“Your mother hated me,” she said, on the phone. “It would be disrespectful.”
“She didn’t hate you. I promise. Besides, your father would have hated me, and I still would have gone to his funeral.”
Her breath hisses across the line.
“Fine,” she says.
I’ve pushed every thought of my parents from my mind in order to give Estella what she needs, but when I walk through the doors of the funeral home and see their coffins, side-by-side, I lose it. I excuse myself from an old neighbor who is approaching me with condolences, and walk briskly to the parking lot. There is a low hanging willow to the rear of the property. I stand underneath it and breathe. That’s where she finds me.
She doesn’t say anything, just comes to stand next to me, taking my hand and squeezing it.
“This isn’t happening,” I say. “Tell me it’s not.”
“It’s happening,” she says. “Your parents are dead. But, they loved you. They loved your daughter. You have so many good memories.”
I glance down at her. She saw two parents die and no doubt only one of them provided decent memories. I wonder if she had anyone to hold her hand after Oliver and Via died. I squeeze her hand.
“Let’s go in,” she says. “The service is about to start.”
When we walk into the chapel, every eye is trained on us. Leah is sitting next to my brother. When she sees me with Olivia, it is a mixture of jealousy and rage. She quickly averts her eyes and steams privately. For now.
Doesn’t she know Olivia isn’t mine? What does it even matter that an old friend is comforting me? She’ll just drive home to her husband afterward. I take my seat near the front.
My mother’s favorite roses are — were — English Garden. There are several tasteful arrangements around her casket, as well as next to the blown up picture of her face, which is sitting on a large easel. Both caskets are closed, though Olivia told me that she had her dressed in a black Chanel dress that she chose from my mother’s closet. Steve had always jokingly said he wanted to be buried in his old baseball uniform. She blushed when she told me she took that and a suit to the funeral home, and when she got there she left the suit in the car. I reach out and squeeze her hand. She’s so f**king thoughtful, it’s ridiculous. I wouldn’t have even been able to walk in my mother’s closet, never mind choose an outfit I’d think she’d like. When the service is over, I flank one side of the door, and my brother takes the other. We don’t speak to each other, but do plenty of speaking to the people offering their condolences. It makes me sick. All of it. That they died. That Estella won’t know them. That it’s all my fault.
When the room clears out, we move to the gravesite. It’s so sunny, everyone is hidden behind sunglasses. It feels like a Matrix funeral, I think jokingly. My mother hated the Matrix. When my parents’ boxes are lowered into the ground and covered in dirt, Leah starts the fight.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It might have been seeing me with Olivia, walking so closely our arms were touching. Or maybe every once in a while, someone with that much venom can’t hold it in anymore and just erupts out of their person, burning everyone around them. Whatever the f**k it was, it came.
“Caleb?”
I stop, turn. Leah is standing next to my brother’s car, just a few spaces back. I was walking Olivia to her car before I drove back to the hospital. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be seeing her for a while, and I wanted to thank her for taking care of me. Olivia keeps walking for a few feet and then turns around to see why I’m lagging. The wind blows, flattening her dress against her and causing her hair to whip around her face. We are all spaced evenly apart. Leah and I are in the middle, with Olivia and Seth flanking us.
I feel it coming. I swear to God, confrontation has a taste. I hesitate before answering.
“What is it, Leah?”
Her red hair is up. I always thought that when she wore her hair up, she looked more innocent. I glance at my brother, who is looking at her with just as much curiosity as I am. His thumb is poised over the unlock button on his car keys, his arm extended outward. If we were all freeze framed, we’d look like a scene from a Quentin Tarantino movie. She opens her mouth, and I know it’s not going to be good.
“I don’t want you coming to the hospital. You’re a shitty, irresponsible father. And don’t think Estella will be making any more trips to see you.” She punctuates her sentence with, “I’m taking you to court for full custody.”
My retort is hot on the tip of my tongue, when I feel a slight breeze to my right. I see a flash of black and Olivia moves past me. I watch as she approaches Leah. She moves like an angry river, flowing across the black tar of the parking lot. I look on in frozen astonishment as the angry river lifts her hand and slaps Leah across the face. Leah’s head snaps to the side from the force and when it straightens, I can see a red hand print.
“Fuuuuuck.” I lunge toward them, the same time as Seth. For a moment, my brother and I are united in an effort to stop Leah’s retaliation. Leah is screaming in anger, writhing to get out of Seth’s grip. That’s when I notice that Olivia is calm and still. My hands are on her shoulders so I lean down to speak in her ear.
“What the hell are you doing, Duchess?”
“Let me go,” she says. “I’m not going to do anything.” She’s still staring toward Leah and all I can see of her is the back of her head.
I let her go and she reaches across the space and slaps Leah again. Seth curses loudly. Luckily the parking lot is empty except for us.
“I’m going to sue you, you stupid bitch,” Leah screams.
Seth lets her go and she lunges for Olivia. Before she can get to her, I push Olivia behind my back and block Leah’s path.
“No,” I say. “You don’t touch her.”
Seth starts laughing. Leah spins on him. “You saw that, right? You saw her hit me?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “It’s our word against yours. And I didn’t see anything.”
Leah pulls out her phone and takes a picture of the red mark on her face. I shake my head. Was I really married to this woman? I’m distracted enough for Olivia to get past me and snatch Leah’s phone out of her hand. She throws it on the ground and stomps on it with her heel, cracking the screen. Once … twice … three times — I grab her.