Page 84 of Inseparable
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Ayden’s mom refuses to let me or Devin into the house to see him, and my depression reaches new lows. An autopsy is performed, and then his body is taken to the local funeral home. She blocks me from there too, and though I want to fight her on it, I can’t summon the strength to do it. Besides, Ayden would hate that, and though he’s not here to chastise me, I don’t want to do anything he would be unhappy about. I’ve done enough to dishonor his memory as it is.
So, the first time I see him is at the funeral. I’m glad she didn’t try to ban me from attending because I would have screamed bloody murder. As it is, she refuses to let Devin speak at the ceremony, and that sticks in my throat. We were Ayden’s best friends, and it’s not right that we’re being shut out, even if I understand the reasons for it. Devin read me the speech he prepared on both our behalf last night and it was perfect. As perfect as anything could be in such difficult circumstances.
Devin holds me close as we approach the casket to say goodbye. I wanted to do this, to see Ayden one final time, but now I’m here, I have to force myself to look. The only other time I’ve seen a dead body was when my grandpa died. He looked weird too—like a warped version of himself.
Ayden is the same.
It looks like him, but at the same time he’s different. I hate the horrible makeup they have on his face and how stretched and papery his skin looks. His beautiful blond hair is styled severely, brushed back off his face in a way he would never have worn it. He’s wearing the suit he wore to prom, and he looks stiff and uncomfortable in it. I’d rather he was wearing jeans and his favorite shirt, with no makeup, and his hair gelled and spiky like he wore it when he was alive. Yes, he would look pale and lifeless, and it would be harder to see, but he’d look more like himself. Like a person who used to live, and breathe, and laugh, and tease, and frown, and act all serious when he should have been carefree. Tentatively, I reach out, touching his cheek. It’s rubbery, and cold, and I snatch my hand away, not wanting to remember him like this. Tears roll down my face as hundreds of happy memories float through my mind. “Why?” I whisper, leaning over him. “Why did you do this? How could you do this?” My heart aches so badly, and I don’t know how I’m going to deal with the continuous pain. “I loved you so much. We both did. That would never have changed.”
Devin grips my waist more firmly. “Don’t torture yourself,” he whispers.
“He promised he’d never leave me,” I cry. “He promised he’d always be there for me. He promised, Devin. Hepromised.” I bury my head in his chest, sobbing profusely. Mom gently takes me in her arms, and we step aside while Devin says his goodbyes.
The wake back at his house passes me by in a blur. I sit in an arm chair, just staring off into space, not hearing any of the murmured condolences, not feeling any of the handshakes, barely sensing the weight of Nancy’s disdain. Tears have dried on my face, leaving watery, mascara-laden streaks across my skin. Devin only leaves my side to get food and drink. When he returns, he holds the cup to my mouth, forcing me to take a few sips. He insists I need to eat, but I push his hand away after a few mouthfuls of food that taste like sandpaper in my mouth.
The next eight days seem to blend together, until I’ve lost track of what day it even is. I can’t get up out of bed. Mom begs me. Mariah begs me. Devin refuses to leave my side. He seems to be handling this far better than me, although that could be a front. He lies beside me, holding me, kissing me, and whispering how much he loves me.
But nothing works.
Nothing eases the sharp ache in my chest. My eyes well up every time I look at the framed photo of the three of us by my bed.
We were thirteen, and Grandpa had taken us out fishing on the lake. Between us, we’d caught a thirty-three-pound walleye. We’re holding the scaly, dead fish across our bodies, grinning wildly, as if we’d just taken gold at the Olympics. Our wide smiles are matching, meeting our eyes, and the moment captured our joy perfectly.
I can’t look at that photo now without tormenting myself.
Without asking how I let this happen.
How we went from best friends forever to three people who hurt and disappointed one another.
Ayden left no note, so no one really knows why he did it.
And no matter how many times Mom and Devin tell me it’s not my fault, I can’t agree.
I look back over the last year in particular, and all I see are the many ways I failed him.
I knew something was troubling him, but I didn’t push enough.
When he landed the marine bombshell on my lap, I wore a “woe is me” hat, never fully thinking about how difficult that decision must’ve been for him.
While our phone calls were short, I didn’t probe enough. I didn’t ask him why—Why did he give up his football dream? Why the marines? Why did he leave me when he promised he wouldn’t? Why didn’t he want to repair things with Devin? When he told me things were tough in Afghanistan, and that the marines weren’t what he expected, I didn’t ask him to explain.
Because I was too Goddamned selfish to think of anyone but myself.
It’s been ten days since Ayden’s funeral, and I wish I died too. It’s Christmas Eve but you won’t find much holiday cheer around here. Devin knocks on my door before stepping inside. His eyes pop wide at the sight of me. I’m freshly showered and wearing clothes—instead of grubby pajamas—for the first time in a week. My bed is made, and my room is tidy. I can see the relief on his face, but it’s short-lived.
I stand up, wanting to get this out before he draws me into his arms, making it harder. “We can’t be together anymore. We’re done, and you have to stop coming over here.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Ange.” He folds his arms, standing his ground. “I know you’re hurting, and I know you blame yourself, but pushing me away won’t change those feelings.” He steps into me, tilting my chin up. “I love you, and I’m going to be here for you whether you want me or not.”
“He’s dead because ofus, Devin, and any notion of ‘us’ died with him. I can’t do this. It’s only adding to the pain.”
He tries to hug me, but I sidestep his arms, crossing to the wall and wrapping my arms around myself. “Don’t make this worse. I can’t be with you. I can’t love you. It’s all ruined now.”
He walks toward me with determination in his eyes. “It’s not. It only feels like that now because it feels like everything died with Ayden that night.” He plants a hand over his chest, and tears prick his eyes. “I’m feeling all those things too, but I’m trying to be strong for you, so if you think I’m not hurting, you’re wrong. I’m in pain, and I miss him so fucking much it’s hard to breathe some days, but he’s gone, and we’re still here, and I’m not going to let you sacrifice what we have out of guilt.”
“You can’t tell me how to feel,” I yell. “Or compel me to do things I don’t want to do. I want to break up with you, not that we were ever really together. I can’t even look at you without guilt crippling me. While we were professing our love in the diner, he was back here killing himself!” I scrub a hand over my face. I’m so tired of this. I just want to retreat into my shell and be left alone. I don’t even have the strength to fight Devin about this, so I play my trump card now. “If you love me, really love me, you’ll do this for me. You’ll leave me because it’s what I want.”
