Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“Are you okay?” Helen asked after a few minutes silence. It was a loaded question that covered more than the funeral. She’d been asking the same one several times a day since my little striptease in the park.
I nodded, smiled. A simple smile was easier than explaining all the reasons why I felt worthless. People were eager to believe them too. Smiles. It made them feel better, I supposed.
Helen smiled back, proving my point. “Are you ready to go home?”
I took one last look at my mum’s coffin lying low in the ground. I wanted to remember the image. I didn’t plan on returning. “Yeah,” I said, squeezing her fingers a little tighter.
Turning our backs on the plot, we padded across the cemetery. It was truly beautiful here. Yellow sun skating across the grass. Flowers in every colour. Trees reaching over the headstones in a large hug.
Please don’t be sad, babe, your wounds will heal
Memories no one can steal
Time, it don’t work, babe, I couldn’t breathe
Please don’t be sad, I love you
“You okay?”
“Mmhmm,” I answered, leaving my thoughts behind. “Just thinking. Singing.”
“Lyrics?” A delighted grin tugged at Helen’s lips.
“Maybe.”
“That’s great. Maybe the new tablets are working.”
“Yeah.” I don’t think I’d ever told so many lies in the space of a week before. The day after my irresponsible bender, the doctor had prescribed me a new type of antidepressant. I couldn’t remember why, or what the supposed advantages were. I had this thing where, sometimes, I couldn’t concentrate when unfamiliar people talked to me. It’d start off fine then, suddenly, the voice in my own head became louder and I’d start listening to that instead. I’d tell myself to shut up, focus, but I couldn’t. I’d nod and make agreeable noises but by the end of it, I’d have no idea what we’d just talked about. It was even worse during telephone calls when I didn’t have a face to centre on. Then, distractions were too much. I could only handle a phone call in complete, uninterrupted silence.
That’s why I had someone sit in with me for the important stuff. Drew and Helen knew more about the meds I’d been given this time than I did. I’d heard bits and pieces, knew Drew had put the new doc in touch with my doctor back in the States. I’d heard them discussing my history, like I wasn’t even there, and I’d also noted the concern in the new doc’s eyes when I’d refused to sign up to his talking therapy bullshit.
“He said they could take a month to see any difference at all, so this is great,” Helen said.
“Yeah.” I said that a lot lately.
I saw Ezra climb out of the car as we approached. I gave him a wave, focused on the car, willing my feet to hurry so I could get the hell out of this situation and make it a memory as soon as possible. I’d almost made it, just passed through the exit gates of the cemetery, when I heard a voice that felt like I’d just received a cane to the back of my knees.
“Hugo?”
Helen turned before I did. I just stood there. Paralysed. Throat swollen.
“Hugo, can we talk? Just for a moment.” Footsteps clicked against the pavement, growing louder, closer.
I felt sick.
“Mr Hayes?” Helen questioned, as if she couldn’t quite recognise him. Or maybe she couldn’t believe he’d had the gall to show up here.
My dad didn’t say anything for a moment. I wondered why, and then I wanted to punch myself for giving a shit. “I’m…sorry,” he said eventually, laughing nervously. “Do we know each other?”
“I’m Helen. Hugo’s friend. You knew me when Hugo and I were kids.”
“Ah, of course. I remember.” He didn’t. Even I could read that in his voice.
Helen, whose hand was still entwined with mine, started running her thumb over my knuckles. “Hugo?”
My breaths came fast. Angrily. I turned around…and nearly collapsed. My father, I’d expected. The two boys either side of him… “Who are they?”
My dad inhaled and it seemed to take a long time. “Hugo, this is Oscar,” he tipped his chin toward the boy on his left, “And this is Jacob,” he finished, patting the head of the kid on his right. “Boys…this is your brother - Hugo.”
The boys, no older than ten, looked up at me with nervous smiles. “Hello, Hugo,” they said in unison. When my dad dropped his arms by his sides, each boy grabbed a hand…and he let them. He stood there, right in front of me, holding their tiny fucking hands.
“They my replacements, huh?” I scoffed, combed the hair off my forehead with my fingers, suddenly too hot.
“It’s not like that,” he tried to protest. He was a fucking liar. “I can explain everything.”
“Is he a good daddy?” I asked, gaze flipping between each kid. They had my blue eyes, both of them, and the one on the left had been cursed with the same cowlick that drove my hair stylist insane.