Distinction: The Distraction Trilogy #3 (25 page)

“Fuck,” I hiss and sit on the side of my bed. “Idiot.” I want to punch myself.

Why can’t I just tell her? Just say it. Tell her that I used to be hideous. Tell her that I…

“ISAAC!” Elle screams. I’m on my feet and tripping down the stairs before I can think to move. The fear in her voice has me propelling forward to find her, uncaring of my own safety.

“Elle?” I find her in the living room, a phone to her ear. “What is it?”

Her swollen eyes find me and tears spill down her cheeks. “It’s your mum.”

My heart stops. I feel sick. “Is she…?”

The look on her face says it all. My body locks in place.

“Isaac, I’m so sorry.” She reaches for me but I don’t feel her hands touch my face. Her lips move but I hear no sound.

I don’t feel myself move for my keys. I know my hands are trembling. I know my body is trembling.

If I’d just stayed. If I’d stayed behind with my dad.

“Let me drive,” Elle says, sniffling.

“I can fucking drive,” I tell her, but even I’m not so sure about that.

We get to the nursing home and my chest constricts when I see the ambulance outside. Is her body already in there?

Body
…

The word echoes through my mind over and over again.

Body…

I climb out of the car and inhale desperately. Is this a panic attack? Everything is blurred. I have tunnel vision.

The sympathetic stares of the nurses as I push through to my mum’s room don’t register. The tears of some don’t affect me. Elle gripping hold of my wrist as she trails behind me only makes me faster. I anger that she’s slowing me down, even if it’s only a fraction, so I tug my hand free, needing to be just that, free.

“Dad?” I call, pushing past a doctor as everybody begins to filter back to their jobs.

“She’s gone,” my dad says, standing by the side of the door. “Just like that…”

“How?”

The paramedics pack away their things. I take note of the nurse covering my mother up and know that they failed to revive her. I was secretly hoping that they would as I was on the way.

“Oh god,” Elle says and my dad opens an arm to her. She steps into him and cries. I don’t feel anything.

“What happens now?” I ask, my throat hoarse. There’s a lump stuck that I just can’t shift.

The fact that I’m standing two feet from my mother’s empty shell hasn’t yet registered.

I missed it.

We knew she was dying. We knew and I didn’t get to be with her when it happened.

“Isaac,” Elle’s small hand touches my bicep. “Are you listening?” I hadn’t realised the doctor had answered but clearly he has.

“Don’t,” I snap and pull my arm free. “I need to go.”

“Isaac,” she grabs my arm again but I tug away violently. I should be there for my dad but right now I’m not even holding it together enough for me. “I don’t know what to do.” She whispers pitifully as the room empties.

“You’ve done enough. Just go!” I snarl, unable to stop the vicious words from spilling out. “If I hadn’t been so busy chasing you, I would have been here with her!”

“I’m sorry.” A sob leaves her but it does nothing to me.

I’m numb. Am I in shock?

No… I can’t be numb because I’m angry. I’m angry at her. I’m angry at Mum. I’m angry at me. I can’t cope.

She’s gone
.

“What can I do?” Elle says softly and steps towards me. “Do you want some water?”

“I want you to go.” I can’t look at her right now. I gave up my last moments with my own mother to be with her and she rejected me. “You don’t even want to be a part of this family. Why are you still here?”

“You’re upset…”

“I want you gone so I can spend a moment alone with
my
parents.”

“Isa…”

“Just
fucking
go!” I yell and grab her shoulders. “I don’t want you here.”

She gasps when I turn her and push her towards the door.

“Isaac!” My dad grabs my arm and reaches for her as if to comfort her, which only makes me angrier. He’s the one who needs comforting, not her. His wife just died. “Elle.”

I turn away from them both but soon her the door close after her. My hand gently pushes my mum’s hair from her face and my lips touch her soft forehead.

I’m suddenly yanked up. My dad has me by the collar of my shirt and my back is hitting the wall. His swollen, angry, red eyes come to mine. “Any hope you had, any chance you had, just died in that girl's eyes.” My jaw clenches. “You are an arsehole. I didn’t raise you this way. I didn’t raise you to treat a woman that way.”

“You don’t…”

“She would be ashamed.” He points to my mother’s dead body.

Body…

It echoes again. Repeatedly.

“I’m ashamed.” He murmurs.

“You’re upset.” I grip his wrist with one hand as his knuckles press against my throat.

“I am. My wife just died and you just kicked yours to the curb for no fucking reason.” He bellows, his fingers digging in deeper. I turn my head to the side so I can avoid his steely gaze. “Do you know what I’d give to have her back? Even for a moment?”

“I can’t…” I tell him and pull his hands away. “I can’t do this.”

“You’re a selfish bastard. A cruel one.”

“I don’t care what you think.”

“No, but when the dust settles and things get better, that girl won’t be coming back to you. And Isaac… if she doesn’t, neither will I.”

“I wasted mum’s last moments…”

“No,” he yells and steps into my space once more. “Don’t you dare…
dare
blame your mother for
your
feelings.”

The door opens after I stagger up the driveway.

“Elle?” My mum steps out of the house, concern in her eyes. “Elle, what’s wrong?”

“She’s dead,” I sob and fall into her arms. “She died… I… I can’t…”

My dad comes into view and my back stiffens.

“Why is he here?” I ask her. The last I heard, he wasn’t living at home. “Why are you here?”

“This is my home.” He states.

I growl and pull away. “I can’t be near you. Not now.”

“Come inside,” mum suggests softly and wraps her arm around my waist. She holds me up and leads me inside, all the while whispering comforting things in my ear. Her hand strokes my back soothingly but my tense body is too tight and overcome with sobs for me to feel the warmth of it.

“I’m so sorry, Elle.” My dad says and I know he means for more than just the fact Judith has died. I just can’t register it now. Memories of Crystal and the time she died flood my brain. “I’m sorry, baby girl.”

Twice now… twice I’ve looked upon the body of somebody I love after death has taken them from me. It’s unfair. Judith was such a great person, a great teacher. So fucking unfair.

Eloise
:
I need you.

Damon
:
What’s wrong?

Eloise
:
She’s dead.

Just typing this into a message fucking guts me. I can’t breathe. I can’t focus.

Damon
:
The earliest flight home is on Thursday.

Eloise
:
Don’t leave your trip for me!

Damon
:
I was going to come home anyway. I’ll call you in a minute.

He’s so full of shit.

******

I haven’t spoken to Isaac since I left the nursing home three days ago and my contact with John has been limited.

I don’t know what to say. My fear overrides my feet and won’t allow me to go and see them face to face. To help, I have been sorting out Judith’s affairs. Fortunately she and John prepared her funeral back when she first discovered her illness so all I’ve needed to do is set it in motion. The wake is another thing entirely. I’ll have to call John to pick up his address book. I can’t really do this without it. He helped me by making the calls to confirm his wife's death and to file for a death certificate, but beyond that he’s locked himself away, leaving it all to me.

My mum has been helping me, thankfully, and my dad has been trying to, but things are tense between he and I. When he left for London yesterday I was glad. I’m not ready to make friends with him any more than I’m ready to address his never ending apologies.

It’s strange, preparing a funeral. John should really be doing this as part of the grieving process but he hasn’t. He didn’t even make an announcement and he isn’t answering his phone when my mum calls.

Hayley has been to check on him but she tells me that even though he’s home, he’s absent. He said that he appreciates us dealing with the funeral and then closed the door in her face.

I’m worried but I want to give them time.

They just need time.

Fuck them needing time.

And with my mind set to ‘fucking determined’ I stomp out of my mum’s house, climb into my car and drive to John’s.

Do I want to see Isaac right now? Hell no. But Judith would be upset with me if I just left him to wallow. I’m the only woman they have in their lives to help them get their shit together. Lord knows that they probably need it!

The door is unlocked when I arrive, which is concerning. I don’t bother knocking just in case they try to lock me out.

Every fibre of me tells me to walk away before I get hurt even more. I should probably leave.

“Hello?” Comes a raspy voice that I know belongs to John. He steps into the hall from the room that was once his wife’s. To say he looks terrible would be an understatement. His gaunt face and sallow skin hiding behind four day old stubble is breaking my fucking heart. His blue eyes seem lifeless.

“John.” My hand goes to my mouth as tears fill my eyes, blurring my vision enough to see just his outline coming towards me. I feel his warm embrace and sag into him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” He releases me and turns to wipe his own eyes. “If I’d known you were coming I’d have spruced up a bit.”

Smiling weakly, I nod towards the stairs. “Go shower. I’m going to clean up.”

“He isn’t here, you know?”

I stop in my tracks and turn to my ex father in law. “Then where is he?”

“He went back to Boston that same day. Or at least I assume that’s where he’s gone. I haven’t heard from him since.”

My mouth goes dry and my fingers ache from clenching them too hard into tight fists. “You’re fucking kidding me? He left you here… alone?”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“It’s not about that, John. You’re family. You need each other.”

He shrugs and blows out a long breath. “Tea?”

“No, you go and have a shower. I’ll clean, make lunch and start making calls. I need Judith’s phone book.”

He winces. “I should be doing this shouldn’t I?”

“Yes.”

He winces again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Just go.”

“Shower. I’m going, I’m going.”

I’m glad to see that even considering the circumstances, he still has some of his spirit. This must be so hard for him but in a way, I suppose now that she’s at rest, it can also be a small relief. He never once complained about her mind deteriorating. He was so good to her to the end, but he won’t have to witness it anymore. She’s finally in a better place, looking over us all with all of her memories in order.

I think.

I hope.

Who the fuck knows?

Eloise
:
You are a selfish bastard.

I send this to Isaac before I can talk myself out of it. Then I get to work cleaning the house and making lunch, which John only picks at as we scroll through his contacts.

I suppose figuring out how to tell everyone the funeral time doesn’t make good lunch conversation.

Eloise
:
You should be here with your dad figuring this stuff out, not me.

I send this to him, but again, as I’m calling random people whom I’ve never met, I don’t get a response.

By the end of the day I’m wiped. So fucking wiped. I crash on Isaac’s bed without even removing my shoes first.

I hate to admit that his lingering scent and familiar items sooth my weary soul.