Page 48 of Lost
Zack had seen the boy cry for his mother, but it was nothing compared to this.
Lysander’s knees gave out from beneath him and he sank to the floor. At first Zack thought the boy had passed out, but he was upright as he began to sob uncontrollably, his shoulders shaking. Georgia went to him immediately, pulling him into her arms and telling him again and again that everything was going to be all right, that everything would be okay.
This had been a wrong decision. He should not have allowed his son to see this. Having absolute, without a doubt confirmation that Dakota was dead was like a kick in the gut to him, and he hadn’t even known the girl. So what must it be like for Lysander? As if losing his mother hadn’t been bad enough, now he had lost his sister. His twin. This would absolutely destroy him.
And it shamed Zack immensely to admit that he didn’t know what to do.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
People often said that twins had some sort of psychic link that connected them, no matter the distance. Lysander didn’t believe it — not because he didn’t want to, but because he had never experienced it for himself. Maybe it was different for identical twins, but he doubted it. Such a thing was foolish.
But he had always believed that should anything happen to his twin, he would know. He had always believed that should Dakotadie, he would feel it.
But he’d felt nothing.
No ache in his heart; no empty space in his chest. At least, that had been the case until he’d seen her lying there, cold and lifeless. Then it was like somebody had punched him, shattering whatever it was that had been holding him together since his mother had passed. He had felt it then — that feeling that somebody had reached in and ripped his heart out. Though there hadn’t been any more tears since the moment he’d seen her, his eyes still ached and never wanted to stay open for long.
He couldn’t think straight. He could barely function at all. He knew Zack and Georgia were both growing worried, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he could do was lie on Dakota’s old bed with her iPod clenched tightly in his hands, waiting for her to burst through the door and tell him to get the hell out of her room. But she never did. He knew she never would.
He sank deeper into his despair.
Despite Mrs. Corte offering to make them reservations at a local hotel, Zack and Georgia chose to remain in the house with Lysander. At first he had wanted to argue, wanted them to leave so he could be alone in this space he’d shared with his mother and sister, but he hadn’t had the strength to push them away. He was thankful that they had at least chosen to sleep in the living room, leaving his mother’s room exactly as it had been the day that she’d died.
The day of the funeral was the worst.
Zack and Georgia were both dressed appropriately. Lysander had wondered where their outfits had come from, but the answer had come soon enough: Zack’s band and their wives were in Columbus to show their support. His heart had shattered more at the sight of them. He appreciated that even though they hadn’t known Dakota in life, they were willing to drop everything to attend her funeral. He was sorry that she had never managed to meet them in person, but one of her goals had been accomplished at least: they knew of her. They would always remember her name.
It was almost half-past nine before Zack managed to coax Lysander out of his sister’s room that morning. It was time to go.
The ceremony was being held at the same place as his mother’s, a quaint little funeral home on South Ludington Street. It was a beautiful, two-storey sandstone building that, under any other circumstances, Lysander would have enjoyed the sight off. But knowing what waited inside made him uncomfortable. He would have given anything not to have to be here again. He did not want to be showered with sympathies; he didn’t want to face his lifeless sister again. He took a deep breath and braced himself.
When he stepped inside, a plethora of familiar faces greeted him. There was Zack’s band and their wives, all dressed in mourning black and gathered on one side of the room. They each fell silent as Zack, Georgia and Lysander entered, and Lysander dreaded the moment when he would reach them. But they were gentle when he did. Instead of the typical “I’m sorry about your loss” or “I’m here if you need anything” lines he’d been dreading, he got “It’s good to see you again, kid” and “It hasn’t been the same without you around.”
Without him needing to say anything, they already knew what he didn’t want to hear. He stood by his father’s side, tuned out of the conversations that the man and his wife so easily fell into, and tried to ignore the way that Zack kept shooting him worried looks. As if he suspected Lysander might break down at any moment.
Lysander would have liked to. It would have been nice to cry, to release all of the pain he was feeling, but his tears did not want to fall. He had tried to force them at night while the adults slept, repeating over and over in his headDakota is dead, Dakota is dead,but it hadn’t done him any good. All it had achieved was making him feel sick. He knew he was still in his own personal state of denial, just as he had been after his mother. But he wanted to snap out of it. Anything was better than this pain, even if it meant accepting the truth.
Not that he wanted to do that, either.
He looked around the room at all the other faces. There were some of his old school teachers and several of his former classmates; there were his old neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Todd. There was Jennifer Kore, the woman who had babysat them when they were still too young to fend for themselves. And there was Michael Handman, Dakota’s old piano teacher. Of course they would all be here. Their community was a small one and everybody had known Dakota. Everybody had loved her.
And then he saw them.
He’d missed them first because there had been others standing in the way, but he couldn’t have missed them now. There was Phillip Leena, dark hair as flat and dull as ever. There were Mason Abel and Amanda Ridgeback, hand-in-hand and her with her head on his shoulder. There was Dakota’s best friend, Katrina Reed, and there was Kieran with his arm wrapped around her for comfort. They all looked the same as ever, despite their tired eyes and black attire. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, and it was as if an invisible bubble surrounded them, keeping out the rest of the world. He hadn’t realised just how much he had missed them all until they were right there, but he felt it now. His chest ached. He should have been in that bubble. Dakota should have, too.
As if he could feel Lysander’s eyes on him, Kieran looked up and met his gaze from across the room.
And that was all it took.
Lysander’s feet were carrying him toward the group before he’d even realised he was moving. He weaved his way through clusters of people, ignoring those who tried to stop him to offer their condolences, and made his way to his best friend almost desperately. Kieran was moving too, coming toward him quickly — two magnets being pulled together.
And then they were joined, embracing like brothers. For the longest time they didn’t say anything — they didn’t need to. They simply stood there, Kieran practically holding Lysander up, as the world around them blurred. Nothing short of having his sister back was going to make things better for Lysander, but having his best friend with him was a good start. He could breathe again.
“Man,” Kieran said as they pulled apart, “it issogood to see you.”
“You, too,” Lysander said in earnest. “You have no idea...”
“Ly!”
