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I suppose I’m lucky that I’ve been in a painkiller coma since being discharged from the hospital earlier this week. Everything relating to this funeral has been a blur. When Quinn had told me Tanner said he’d cover anything I wanted for the service, I couldn’t be bothered to fight him on it. I vaguely remember being asked so many questions about burial plots and caskets and brunches and churches that I’d snapped and said I’d had enough, that whatever Quinn thought best was fine.

I still don’t want to deal with anything related to burying my precious baby boy in the cold, hard ground forever. Alone. Without me. If the world was a fair place, he’d be here with me… or I would at least be with him. I just don’t understand why we had to be separated when life seems so meaningless without him.

The priest makes his way toward the front of the group, next to the hole that’s been dug for my son’s casket. I’m sadly relieved to see him take his place. It means I can get away from all these people without having to be rude—not that I really give a shit about being rude. This is my son’s funeral for Christ’s sake. I have no desire to speak to anyone, and I don’t want any condolences for a pain and loss that most people will never understand.

I squeeze Quinn’s arm, hoping she’ll get the hint that I want to move closer. Since I can’t move well on my own, I need her help. She wraps her arm around me, and we maneuver me very slowly toward the grave. Thankfully, my broken arm and busted leg are on opposite sides, so I can use one crutch at least. I feel everyone’s eyes on me as I make my way forward, but I refuse to look up, concentrating on limping forward one leg at a time.

The only specific order I’d given Quinn was that I didn’t want a huge production. I wanted everything done at one place. My body can’t handle all the traveling right now, and quite frankly, neither can my emotions. I’m grateful she was able to find that for me. There’s a chapel on the cemetery grounds, and it was big enough for Daniel’s mass. Mass and burial—that’s all I wanted, no get together after. It’s not as though people could sit around telling stories about him, so what would the point be? There is no life to celebrate. Daniel never got a chance at life.

I can’t tear my eyes away from the small baby blue casket. I stare at it, not paying the slightest bit of attention to anything happening around me. I hear the wind whistling, but the winter chill doesn’t register in my already numb body. I see the rain splattering on my shoes, but I don’t feel any wetness. I hear the priest speaking, but I can’t focus on the words. I hear sniffling and crying, but I don’t look to see who’s shedding tears. I hear whispered prayers, but they all sounds miles away, as though I’m in a bubble—a bubble of sorrow. My son is so close yet so far away. Never to come back. I feel a lone tear slide down my face.

I watch the line of people walk by Daniel’s casket, dropping flowers on top of it before exiting the cemetery. I make no move to follow them. I want to be the last one with my child after everyone has left. He’ll know, wherever he is, that his mommy didn’t want to leave him.

How the hell am I supposed to leave? How am I supposed to turn my back on my son, my flesh and blood, and leave him all alone?

“Sweets?” Quinn asks, giving my arm a little squeeze.

“Hmm?” My eyes are still glued to Daniel’s final resting place.

“Ready to walk up?”

I answer with a nod and adjust my crutch, readying myself to move forward. Good leg. Bad leg. Good leg. I repeat in my head until I reach Daniel. Quinn doesn’t rush me as I stand there, staring into the ground. I imagine him in that casket, his sweet little face, all alone. He shouldn’t be alone. He should still be nestled in his warm little home in my belly, not freezing out here.

Why? Why him?

I bring my hand to my lips and kiss my fingers before leaning over as far as I can to place my kiss on the casket. “I love you.” Straightening back up, I say, “I’m sorry.” Sorry that I have to turn and walk away, leaving him here. “It should have been me.”

As Quinn helps me walk away, I look back over my shoulder, not acknowledging the tears trailing down her face. They do nothing to me. My emotions have been shut off, and that’s fine with me. I don’t want to feel anyway. I’d be happy to never feel anything again. There’s no joy left in my world, nothing good left in my life, so what’s the point of feeling at all?

Chapter 19

Tanner

During the service, I can’t take my eyes off of Ashley. It’s like looking at a robot. Not a single emotion plays across her face, and she doesn’t once notice me watching her like a hawk. I watch her every move. Having not seen her in five days, catching sight of her is like finding a single sip of water in the desert. It isn’t enough.

I want to be the one that she’s leaning on, her support system. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t be going through this together. He was our son. My son too. There’s nothing that can be done to change that. Yes, I have Alex and my parents, but they don’t understand how I feel. They don’t understand my pain. I need her too, dammit. Can’t she see that?

When it’s all over, my body instinctively moves in her direction, but Ma stops me.

“Come on, sweetie,” she says, her eyes rimmed with red and small smears of black from her makeup. “You’re not going to be able to get through to her today. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone. She needs time.”

“I need her.” I sigh, refusing to take my eyes off of Ashley as she stands with Quinn next to the grave, lips moving soundlessly.

After a moment, Quinn helps her turn away from the hole in the ground, but before she’s taken a full step, Ashley looks back over her shoulder. I hear her say, “It should have been me.”

My heart cracks in two at those words. It shouldn’t have been either one of them. They both should have been in the warm Miami sunshine with me.

Watching Ashley shut down little by little is harder than I could have imagined. I understood when she shut me out after seeing Daniel’s “Certificate of Life.” I even understood when Quinn came to me to ask me to help plan the services because Ashley had wanted nothing to do with it. But seeing the emptiness in her eyes has me more than worried about her emotional stability. Despite the fact that it’s been raining steadily all day, she hasn’t seems to notice. Instead, she’s soaked though. Quinn has tried a few times to get her under an umbrella, like everyone else at the service, but she’s made no effort to get out of the rain or even wipe the moisture from her face. I’m not sure worried begins to cover how I feel about her well-being at this moment.

I follow my parents over to where our driver stands beside his Town Car, and we say goodbye to my sisters and their families. I tell Alex I’ll see him later and slide into the back seat beside my mom and dad, more than ready to head home. I can’t wait for this day to end. I can’t imagine that anything is harder than burying your own child, but I don’t want to find out if that’s true. Nothing could really make this easier, but I honestly believe that if Ashley and I had been a unit through it all, this nightmare could be slightly more bearable

I must really zone out because I don’t remember dropping off my parents or the subsequent drive to my house. I don’t even realize I’ve arrived home until the driver has come around the side of the car to open my door. Being out of it is fine by me though.

I can’t wait to get out of this suit. On my walk to the door, I consider throwing it in the fire place since I’ll never wear it again. It will forever remind of me of saying goodbye to my son. I probably sound like a psycho teenage girl debating on burning an outfit because it reminds her of an awful ex-boyfriend or a night out, but I don’t care. My eyes will be drawn to it every time I walk into my closet, reminding me of everything I lost that terrible night—not just my son but Ashley too.

Once inside, I walk straight to the den and strip out of my suit, throwing it piece by piece into the fireplace—jacket, pants, shirt, tie. I never want to see any of it again. I turn on the fireplace and sit on the oversized ottoman in the middle of the room in nothing but my boxers and dress shoes, watching my clothes burn. I wish all my pain and sadness could burn away with them, that the weight I’ve been carrying around on my back would dissipate too. I wish I could turn back the hand of times, but I can’t, and none of my troubles are going to burn away with the charred remains of my clothes, so I decide to hit the shower.

I stand under the warm spray of the six built-in shower heads and try to shake away the haunting vision of Ashley at the burial. Hollowed out, broken, dull—words I would’ve never thought to use to describe Ashley, but they’re accurate nonetheless. For the first time since the accident, I’m seriously wondering if there’s any way for her to come back from all the trauma.

She was always the bright light in my darkness. There was always an aura about her that made me want to be near her, but right now that light is so dim. There’s been so much tragedy, and I don’t want to see her light swallowed up by it forever. She may not have died in the accident, but a part of her is gone, and it breaks my heart to see her living as a shell of her former self. It almost makes me glad that she didn’t get the chance to see and hold Daniel. It was almost impossible for me to give him up, and I can only imagine that it would’ve been a million times harder for Ashley.

After I fail at attempting to wash all my sins away during my hour-long shower, I throw on some sweats and head downstairs, thinking that maybe some time in my gym can help me work through my feelings. I convince myself it’s a better choice than drinking, until I find Alex sitting at my kitchen table with a beer in his hand and an open one waiting for me next to him.

“How long have you been here?” I ask, sliding into the chair across from him and grabbing my beer. So drinking it is.

“About half an hour. I was getting ready to check to make sure you didn’t drown in that massive oasis you’ve got up there,” he answers with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s been a long day,” I offer in explanation of my lengthy shower.

Alex’s phone chirps and lights up on the table. After checking the message, he looks up at me and says, “Quinn.”

“How’s she doing?” I ask. “It was kind of hard to talk to her today.”

“As well as can be expected. She’s got a lot on her plate with helping Ash. You know how bad things are between Ash and her family, so that puts everything on Quinn. She’s the only family Ash has right now, since Ash doesn’t want her mom anywhere near this whole thing.” I’m not surprised Ashley doesn’t want her mom involved. She was almost intolerable at the hospital. “She actually just asked me if I would swing by,” Alex says.

“Okay, go then. She could probably use someone,” I say sincerely. Quinn will definitely need someone to help, and there’s no way Ashley will let that person be me.

“Wanna come?” he says, taking another sip of beer before going back to his phone. “I don’t think you should be alone either. You don’t need to suffer in silence.” He glances up from his phone with a concerned look on his face. He knows me too well.

Being alone is exactly my plan.

“It’s not a good idea for Ash and me to be in the same room. She doesn’t need anything else to set her off right now,” I say as I stand to toss my empty beer bottle in the trash. Damn, I downed it fast.

“Already checked with Quinn. Ashley took a bunch of meds, and she’s out for the night. No reason we all can’t spend tonight together. You both need me, and I want to be there for the two of you.”

“Okay,” I say only to make the situation easier on him. I don’t want him to have to choose between being here for me and being there for Quinn.

Besides, Quinn wouldn’t lie. If she says Ash is out for the night, then she’s out for the night.

The drive over to Quinn and Ashley’s goes by more quickly than usual. I guess it must always seem that way when you don’t really want to reach your destination. There are so many memories waiting for me within the walls of that condo, and most of my recent ones are bad—telling Ashley I didn’t believe her and ruining everything, asking her for forgiveness and having the door slammed in my face… Add to that all the wonderful memories I have there, and nothing great can possibly be in store for me there.

“Hey, baby,” Alex says enveloping Quinn in a hug when she opens the door.

Quinn’s hair is in a messy pile on top of her head, she has on no makeup, and she’s wearing sweats. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Quinn in attire this casual. She’s usually so put together, even while sitting vigil at a hospital bedside. This day has clearly taken a toll on her.

She wraps her arms around Alex’s midsection and burrows into his chest as if the answers to all her problems are buried in there. He guides her backward a step inside and squeezes her harder, allowing me in and giving me room to close the door. When she lifts her face from the crook of Alex’s neck, her eyes land on me, and she smiles sadly.

“How are you holding up, Tanner? I’m sure today was really rough for you.”

“It was. I’m dealing,” I don’t really want to focus on me. “How’s Ashley?” I ask as we all make our way into the living room and sit down on the couch.

“A freaking mess.” She sighs. “Or at least I’m assuming she is. She’s not really talking much, and when she does, it’s just one word answers.”

“She looked like a zombie, an emotionless pod person,” I say. “It’s really sad to see her so lifeless.”

“I know. I was waiting for the breakdown, but it never came,” she says, curling her legs beneath her. “She just stares out into space. She’s not eating or drinking. I had to force her to shower today. Do you have any idea how hard it is for her to shower lately even when she wants to? Forget about me having to force her! I just don’t know what to do. I know it’s only been three weeks, but I’m worried, guys.”