Heart (28 page)

Everything stopped.

For me.

From Jake.

I took the envelope, feeling its weight in my hands. It was heavy, filled with something soft yet hard. It had my name on the front, written in Jake’s familiar scrawl.

I breathed it in, knowing he had touched it, sealed it.

Time stopped, rewound to a moment when Jake was still alive. Still thinking of me.

“I’m going to my room,” I whispered before rushing out. I closed my bedroom door and sat on my bed, still holding the envelope as though it could detonate at any moment. Part of me worried that the envelope would break my heart with words Jake would never be able to take back, never be able to justify. But I had no choice but to take that risk; I couldn’t leave his final words unread.

I carefully unsealed the envelope and took out folded pieces of paper and something wrapped in tissue. I unwrapped the tissue, preserving the folds so I could recreate it exactly how Jake had left it, to reveal a pebble.
A misshapen pebble?
Taking a deep breath, I opened the pieces of paper to find them filled with his handwriting. I’d never seen so much of it at the same time and there was a beauty to the organic shapes and lines it made across the page. It took a few seconds of deep breathing and closing my eyes to help me calm down enough to read.

I lay down and cried, the pebble a warm piece of Jake in my hand.

The sky was weeping on the morning of Jake’s funeral. I stood, still in my pyjamas, looking out my bedroom window, recalling how much Jake loved this view. Mist rolled over the hills in the distance and the fine drizzle gave everything a dull edge, more Impressionist watercolour than HD. Maybe nature had muted the colour and light in his honour, mourning a friend.

“You okay?” Cass had stayed over, as much for Flynn’s benefit as mine, but she spent the night in my room, like she used to in the pre-Flynn days. When I had cried myself to sleep, she had held my hand, a prolonged version of the way we had always wished each other good night on sleepovers. Knowing she was going to be with me gave me the strength to believe I could survive the day. I had to.

“Honestly, I just want to get the service over and done with. A part of me wishes we didn’t have to go,” I admitted. It was the truth. Today, I was going to have to face up to the reality of what had happened. Jake was gone. Up until the funeral, a small part of me could still pretend. But this was going to make it real. He
was
gone. Forever.

“I know. Today is going to be a crappy day, but I’m here for you. And for Flynn.” She hugged me tight enough to quell the tears threatening to make themselves public. “Forget I asked such a stupid question. Let’s go get some breakfast and then do Jake proud,” she added, pulling at my hand.

Flynn was already sat in the kitchen, eating pancakes Mum was busy making. Dad was also there, chatting with Mum, one eye on the news on the TV in the corner. I was reminded how lucky I was, having a family who loved me and who were all willing to be there, supporting me when I needed it most. But it was also about supporting Flynn; he’d been best friends with Jake since they were little. I couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t hanging around with each other. Looking closely, I could see the tell-tale redness around Flynn’s eyes which told me he had probably needed Cass as much as I had last night. I gave him a hug before sitting next to him.

“You okay, lovely?” Mum asked as I sat down; it was clearly going to be the question of the day.

“Yeah, I’m all right. What time do we need to leave, Dad?” He looked over and gave me the sort of smile he would give me when I was little and fell over and grazed my knee: the one trying to take away my pain with just the magical healing powers of unconditional love.

“About eleven, I reckon. So you’ve got plenty of time to make yourself look beautiful, beautiful.” Mum threw an approving smile in his direction, along with an extra pancake onto his plate.

Back in my room, having managed to eat a pancake and some fruit, I stood in front of my wardrobe, each item of clothing triggering the memory of when I had worn it with Jake. I’d already decided to wear his favourite pink underwear but was struggling with what to wear on top. None of us was going to wear black; it just wasn’t Jake’s style. Still undecided, I picked up the undies and went for a shower.

When I returned, laid out on my bed was the outfit I had worn last New Year’s Eve. The night it all started. The night Jake kissed me, rendering me hopelessly infatuated.

“How did you know?” I whispered, filled with gratitude at the way Cass knew me. It was the perfect thing to wear.

“I could see you were stuck, and I thought back to that night. You looked so gorgeous. And Jake clearly thought so, too.” She grinned as she made her way into the bathroom and left me to remember how much that evening had changed my life. And, even though there had been so much heartache over the last year, I wouldn’t change the events of that night.

If I could turn back the clock, I would still smile at him, silently willing him to show me he wanted more than someone to chat to whilst Flynn and Cass were upstairs. I would still get up on my tiptoes, trying to prolong the kiss he gave me as the clock struck midnight. Because, despite all of the pain, Jake had brought so much joy, so much love to my life. I was a different person because of him. Thanks to him.

In return for all he had given me, I was determined to be strong, to not fall apart.

Starting with the funeral.

By the time Cass returned, I had pulled my hair into a side braid, hoping to beat the damp air. I kept my makeup simple and made sure my mascara was waterproof, just in case. Zipping my knee high boots, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and gasped. I stood and appraised myself. Although I looked like me, I also didn’t. My skin was paler than usual, making my heart-mark more prominent. There were faint hollows under my cheekbones and my usually skin-tight jeans felt comfortably loose. No wonder Mum had been so worried.

I looked myself in the eye and promised I would pull myself together. This was not what Jake would have wanted. This was not what
I
wanted.

“Come on, let’s make him proud,” I said to Cass as we left my room, braced for the challenge of the next few hours.

The rain had passed by the time Cass, Flynn and I stood outside the crematorium doors, Mum and Dad behind us. The crowd of people awaiting the arrival of the hearse was a diverse group which represented the person Jake was. There were several clusters of young people, some of whom Flynn knew and had chatted briefly with, along with a couple of girls I knew Jake had gone out with in the past. There were a few teachers from school, two of whom had spoken words to me I’d barely been able to register. I also recognised Bill Edwards, Jake’s boss, who smiled weakly across at me. I wondered how many were expecting me to break down, making me even more resolved to stay strong.

That resolve wavered when the hearse pulled up the drive, the oak coffin a stark reminder of why we were there. What really pissed me off, though, was the JAKE made of yellow chrysanthemums which filled the side window. Cut flowers?
Really
? How much did Jake’s family not know him?

“Don’t say anything. They’re just doing what people do. The same as everyone else in this situation.” Flynn’s whispered words calmed my anger at how completely inappropriate the flowers were. Almost as inappropriate as the white jeans Jake’s mum had poured herself into for the occasion. But nowhere near as inappropriate as the fact that her boyfriend, who hated Jake, was there, arm draped over her shoulder. I felt a wave of sympathy for Grace and Josh, desperately trying to look grown-up, but their despairing faces making them look like children who couldn’t fathom that the world could be this cruel. My heart almost broke when Josh took a tissue from his pocket and wiped the tears from Grace’s face, all too aware that he would now feel the burden of being the man of the family. The tell-tale burning at the back of my eyes made me look away and grasp Cass’s hand.

We all stood still as the undertakers carefully pulled the coffin from the hearse and placed it on a chrome trolley. Jake’s family lined up behind it, Josh and Grace now holding hands. As the procession made its way into the crematorium, Dad led us to the second pew, placing me directly behind Grace. Sandwiched between Cass and Mum, I was protected. Or so I thought.

The room itself was beautifully sparse. Three of the walls were whitewashed, but the wall in front of us was made of glass and overlooked hills and fields. That
was
appropriate. I focussed on the view instead of looking at the coffin, now placed on a stand in front of the congregation. I wasn’t even really aware of the words being spoken by the minister, words which had been cobbled together from bits of information given to him by people who had actually known Jake. I was aware of a pause, followed by the hiss of a music system ready to play.

Angels
by Robbie Williams? The anger I had felt at the flowers surfaced again. I didn’t have an issue with the song as such, just not for Jake’s funeral. How did it represent him? He hated that type of poppy crap. Flynn leaned across Cass and squeezed my knee, sensing my discomfort, yet again stopping his sister losing it at his best friend’s funeral.