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“I can take that. But it’s not the same now. My life has changed.”
“Did you think bringing your sister along to soften me up would play in your favour?” she accuses.
“I thought I would need to explain why I’m finally in a place to offer Anna what she deserves.”
“She deserves better than you. You broke her. You hurt her time and time again. And I curse the day you first took her away.” Her words aren’t a surprise.
“She does deserve better than me. I’ve never believed any differently. But I know that Anna and I are meant to be together. I’ve always believed that, whether or not I’ve acted that way. I love her. And love isn’t always straightforward. Things are different now. Having Sophie means that I can’t fall back into old habits.” I look up at Becca, but she looks confused. “I’m Sophie’s legal guardian. Her parents died, and so I’m all she has. I have her to look out for now.”
“I know it shouldn’t have taken this to see how destructive I’ve been, but I can’t change the past. All I can do is hope for the future I know we once wanted together.”
“You were children when you thought that,” she snaps again, and I can feel the anger she still holds for me.
“Do you think Anna believes that? That what we had was simply a crush young people fall in and out of?”
Becca stares at me and crosses her arms in defiance. “You strangled her with your so-called love. And you’ve never let go.”
“I loved her the only way I knew how. It was obsessive and all-consuming and too much for us, maybe. But now, I hope, it will be different.”
She shakes her head.
“More.” Sophie holds up the now-empty pack of vegetable crisps for me.
“Soon.” I smile at her. “Becca, I thought bringing Sophie would help you to understand that I won’t screw up again. I can’t. She might not be my child, but I love her all the same.” I offer my hand to Sophie, and she takes it, squeezing my two fingers in her tiny hand as she slides off the sofa. “I didn’t know responsibility until her, and she is how I know I’m ready to love Anna the way she deserves and make a life together.”
Becca doesn’t say anything else but watches as I take the bag and swing Sophie up into my arms. There’s nothing else I can say. This might have backfired, but I needed Becca on my side. However, I’m not sure if she would even open the door to me again.
I nod, say goodbye, head for the door and leave.
“How do you think I did?” I ask Sophie, but she just starts to grizzle. “I know. Me too. Me too. Let’s get through tomorrow, and then we have to keep our fingers crossed.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was easy to find out the details of the service. It was at a church around the corner from where Jeremy lived, although I never knew any of them to go to church, not even at Christmas. There was only one funeral on Tuesday, so I mustered the courage to attend.
I didn’t want to go for Jeremy. I wanted to go for myself. Maybe to get closure or just to prove to myself that he was gone. It had been a long time since I’d thought about his dad and what he did to me, and my feelings slid into the haze of those dark months that turned so much of our world off-kilter.
Bringing myself to step inside the church was too much, so I waited outside and stood back, hidden by the trees in the graveyard.
There’s a quiet here, a peace, that seems to seep into my bones. Finally, I watch as they carry the wooden coffin out and down into the graveyard, with a few dozen people following, gathering around the open grave. Jeremy is at the back as if rounding everyone up, but I don’t see his mum or little sister. Although, a funeral is no place for someone so young as her.
My own grandparents died when I was much younger. Mum told me about them, but I didn’t go to their funeral. So, this was the first one I’d ever attended.
Watching as they lowered him into the ground made me shudder. Even for someone I hated, the thought of being left underground, even though they were dead, chilled my blood.
Jeremy said he hadn’t spoken with his dad in years. It’s hard to imagine he didn’t want to reach out, and I wonder if his dad ever tried to make it up to him or try to repair their relationship. Then I think about my own dad, who’s never been in contact with me since the day he ran off.
My feet shift on the mulch-covered ground, my small heels pressing deep into the soft earth.
The man, standing stoic and motionless, watching over the burial of his father, is a long way from the angry boy who beat him on the floor of their kitchen — the boy who was consumed by rage.
There was more to what happened that night. There were words left unsaid, confessions of guilt and anger and pain, but they never came. We buried it and got lost in our messy version of love instead of dealing with what happened and coming to terms with it.
I coped in my way. And he coped in his.
And from that moment, we were on separate paths.
People pay their respects and leave, one by one, but Jeremy remains. He doesn’t leave the graveside, just stands there, watching it, as if he’s not ready to say goodbye. As time draws on, I grow anxious to offer him comfort. It’s right there under my skin like it was on that night he stood up to his father for me, that urge to make him feel better.
