Indie

TWO DAYS LATER, I don’t know whether to show up at the funeral. Technically, Jem didn’t invite me. But the flower shop was commissioned for the carnation arrangements. I doubt the choice of shop was deliberate on his part— we’re the main contact for the cemetery.

And one of us, either Mae or me, have to travel with the delivery truck to make sure the flowers get to the location in one piece.

Mae knows whose funeral it is. I haven’t been sleeping, and I know I must look horrible, but she probably just pins it all on the situation. She has no clue that Jem ended things with me two nights ago, so she expects me to be at the funeral anyway.

Over the counter, she gives me a concerned look. “You sure you don’t want me to come?”

I shake my head. “I’ll be fine.”

I don’t know how to tell her the full story.

I’m still in shock over it all myself. And a part of me doesn’t want to believe that it’s true. A part of me doesn’t want her to know. Because I know that she’ll immediately rebuke Jem, and I’m not ready to hear anything bad about him. Not right now.

I bid her a temporary farewell, heading out the shop and toward the delivery van.

Dark clouds roll over in the sky as we drive to the venue. I stare down at my outfit as I play with my hands nervously — I’m wearing a black rain jacket, black tights and Docs.

The van driver pulls into the cemetery, and I jump out to check everything’s alright, then spend some time placing the bouquets on their pews.

When everything’s done, a slight drizzle of rain starts, and it’s our cue to leave, but I can’t bring myself to.

I still remember the time Jem took me to visit his mom, and even though I’m not even a fraction close to her as Jem, I still feel the urge to stay, even if it’s just for a short while.

“You can leave without me,” I tell the driver. “I’ll get a cab back.”

He offers me a confused look, but nods anyway, climbing back into the van before reversing out of the cemetery.

It’s a while before the funeral procession starts and they bring out the casket. They’re followed by a line of people, including Jem’s dad and Jo, holding black umbrellas to shield themselves from the soft shatter of rain.

And he’s here.

Jem.

I’m standing under the shelter of a tree in the furthest corner from everyone, just to get a glimpse of how he’s doing. If he’s okay.

His broad shoulders stretch against his suit as he stands next to his sisters, the ink on the backs of his hands peeking through the cuffs of his suit jacket. He’s carrying Gianna in his hands as Kendall holds a giant black umbrella over both Jem and her.

He looks worse than how he looked when he came to me last night. His skin is pale and ashen, dark circles under his eyes.

My chest throbs at the sight. Even like this, he’s handsome. Like a sad Michelangelo painting. I fight the urge to walk over and stand by his side. My fingers are itching to clasp his hand. It’s what I should do, but I can’t.

He made it clear that this was what he wanted.

I don’t understand why he’s doing this — why he’s pushing me away, like I’m only meant to experience the shiny parts of his life and am meant to be sheltered and protected from the other parts.

It hurts. In more ways than one.

His head is ducked, bent downward as he stares straight at his mother’s coffin while it’s lowered to the ground.

His expression is blank. Numb. Emotionless. It breaks my heart.

Gianna turns her face into Jem’s crumpled suit, and he runs his hand over the crown of her head, comforting her.

“Indie?”

I blink. My mind distorts the voice, and for a second I think it’s Jem speaking. That he’s finally going to accept that he needs me, and pull me to his side, and let me be there for him.

But it’s not him.

It’s Kendall.

She’s spotted me, somehow.

Her eyes are puffy with tears as she walks over to me in a black dress, tugging at my jacket sleeve. “What are you doing all the way over here? Where have you been?”

Choosing to ignore her words, I hug her instead. “I’m so sorry, Kendall.”

I hold her in my arms for a while, rubbing up and down her back to slow the tears that fall from her eyes whilst she hugs me. When she breaks away, I step away and attempt to head back.

“Indie,” she says, holding onto my jacket sleeve. “Where are you going? You’re not going to stay?”

My mouth goes dry as I stop, and I’m half convinced to listen to her and stay.

“Kendall,” Jem’s voice sounds behind us.

My heart thuds in my chest. He refuses to look up. To see me. He doesn’t even meet my eye. Like he doesn’t want me to give more than I owe.

Jem’s stormy gaze travels from his sister to her hand on my jacket. “Let her go.”

Kendall’s eyes cloud over as it dawns on her. She knows he’s the one pushing me away. But I know there’s little she can do. Her brother’s stubborn. And he believes he’s protecting me.

The touch I know so well, the scent of him mixed with the scent of the rain. His grey eyes are filled with pain as he looks down at me. His gaze scours my face, lowering to my lips like he wants to lean down and kiss me.

Instead, he just nudges me toward the gates of the cemetery.

“Get home before the rain gets heavy,” he says, his voice low.

I freeze. Something inside me rips at the seams. Numb, I wave at Gianna and place a small kiss on Poppy’s cheek and smile at Kendall. And then I turn and leave.

Because that’s what he wants.

***

A WEEK PASSES. Jem sticks to his word and stays away. I send him an array of texts asking if he’s okay, but it’s radio silence. Against my better judgement, I even try calling him a few times, but he never picks up.

Fine. If he wants space, I’ll give him space.

At first, I’m understanding.

He has to process the death of the person that he changed his whole life for. The person who raised him. Who understood him. Pain creeps into the crevices of my body when I think of Jem and his mother in that hospital room. How he got her flowers. Cut his hair for her. Dropped out of college for her.

I’m also clinging onto my last shred of hope that he’ll come back to me. That he didn’t mean anything he said. He’ll admit that he was wrong, that it was all just one big mistake.

But he never does.

Then I’m angry.

Am I that easy to leave?

Why is he doing this to me?

To us?

I want to hate him.

I want to regret ever walking out of my apartment that night with Ben & Jerry’s and catching him with my marshmallows in the elevator. I want to regret every single moment we shared, if only to dull the ache in my chest.

But someone I can’t find it in myself to.

It hurts so much.

The only heartbreak I’ve ever known was Kade, but I find myself wishing I’d experienced more — because even a hundred Kades don’t match up to the pain I feel from Jem’s absence.

I find myself looking through our old texts. He always knew when I was sick and tired of school and needed a break. Sending me pictures of him working in the garage with his friends. Or the growing purple wildflower he kept for me. Tears leak from the corner of my eyes.

It felt good having someone on my side for once. Someone who showed up and didn’t cancel plans. Someone that my opinion mattered to. But he’s gone. And all I have left of him is the heating in my room.

And I hate that he fixed it.

I want to feel cold. I want it to seep right to the bone, so I can focus on that, instead of the constant weight on my chest.

I hear the sound of Scarlett letting Mae inside the apartment. Mae enters my room and doesn’t say anything. She just gets under the covers and spoons me — and I almost laugh at her being the big spoon despite being so tiny.

Without me having to ask, she rubs at my back. It does make me feel a little better, surprisingly. My view clears and an uncomfortable Scarlett looks back at me. I huff a laugh as warmth spreads through my chest.

Padding over to my bed, Scarlett sits on the edge.

“Hey, Scar,” I mumble, mustering a smile.

If anyone helps me get through the week, it’s Scarlett. She’s been surprisingly nice to me the past week — waking me up on time, walking to campus to me, and checking if I’ve eaten. She doesn’t call me a baby when I curl up into a ball on the couch and cry.

She’s really awkward with tears, though. She’s always been that way — staying far away from Mae and I when we watch those cheesy rom coms because one of us always starts bursts out in tears by the end of it.

It became obvious to her and Mae that something was wrong, and they eventually figured it out that Jem.

Scarlett looks at Mae and I squished together on my bed and rolls her eyes. Then she wordlessly sneaks under the covers, so that I’m sandwiched between them,

At this point, we’re almost tipping over on the bed because there’s no space for the three of us.

“I love you guys,” I sniffle.

Scarlett flushes.

“It’s going to be okay,” Mae says.

“This is why I like girls more,” Scarlett mumbles.

“Scar,” Mae chides.

“What?” Scarlett says. “He’s such a dick.”

“Scar,” Mae presses. She turns to me. “He’ll come back, Indie. He’s just confused. People deal with grief differently.” She places her lips on my temple in a small kiss. “Just give him some time.”

I nod against her chest, but his words echo in my mind.

I never say or do anything I don’t mean, Indigo.