You complete and utter idiot.
What the hell were you thinking?
‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled shamefully, the mocking jeering voices in his head growing louder in their laughter. He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her. He needed to leave. He needed to get out of here.
‘Fin, look at me,’ Eleanor pleaded, as he stood and began to pace up and down the room. ‘It’s OK, I know you’re upset and emotional and you di—’
‘The car will be here soon.’ He turned away from her, grinding his teeth so hard that his entire jaw seared with pain. ‘I’ll wait outside.’
‘Fin!’
He heard her call after him, but it was too late. He slammed the door and walked away without a second glance.
*
It wasn’t a big funeral. In fact, barely a handful of people showed up to pay their respects to his mother. Her life, remembered by a group of humans whose number he could count on two hands. How small had her world been? How much had she truly lived? The questions taunted him throughout the entire service, drowning out the impersonal words recited by the priest, screaming over the tuneless hymns that were sung without any trace of enthusiasm, silencing the tears that were streaming down his face. The only other thing he was aware of was Eleanor’s presence next to him the entire time. He’d replayed the memory of their kiss over and over, his shame growing with each rerun. Her surprise had now mutated into disgust, her face contorting into an almost offended repulsion.
‘Fin?’ Angela’s voice stirred him from his thoughts as they stood outside the church. ‘Are you coming back with us? I’ve got food laid out at mine. I’m sure you could do with a cup of tea. We all could.’ Her eyes were red raw and her face older somehow. Could grief leave its mark so quickly?
‘I don’t think I can,’ he muttered. ‘I need some space. I’m going to head back to the flat.’
He felt her hand gripping his tightly. ‘You don’t have to do this alone. You know that, don’t you?’ The words were said with such force that Fin felt them land directly on his heart with tiny little thuds.
‘Thank you. I really do appreciate it. But I’ll be fine.’ Heturned to leave before she could make any further attempt at persuading him to stay.
As he made his way out of the churchyard, he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the path ahead. He couldn’t stand to look at the graves any longer. Why his mum had wanted to be buried he’d never know. The thought of her lying in the cold earth, dissolving slowly into the ground, made his skin crawl. No. Much better to be cremated, he thought. Burnt and scattered somewhere. Easier. Simple. Plus, why have a grave if there was no one there to visit it?
‘Fin, hold on a second!’
He glanced quickly over his shoulder to see Eleanor running towards him.
Leave me alone.
Please just leave me alone.
‘Wait!’ she shouted, her footsteps getting louder as she closed the gap between them. Fin tried to pick up his pace but she was by his side in seconds. ‘At least let me drive you home?’
‘Thanks.’ He carried on walking. ‘But you don’t have to do that.’
‘Fin,’ she begged. ‘Don’t do this, please.’
‘I’m not doing anything. I just want to be by myself.’ He quickened his strides, hoping that she would give up and go.
‘Hold on!’ She pulled at his arm. ‘I’m scared if you go home alone you’ll do something stupid.’
He stopped abruptly, still unable to meet her gaze.
‘Promise me you won’t do anything stupid,’ she pleaded, reaching for his hand. Memories of their younger selves swam shamefully in his mind. After all this time, she still didn’t trust him. How stupid he was for thinking anything could have been different between them.
‘I promise.’ He snatched his fingers away from hers. ‘I’ll be fine.’
He could feel her eyes burning into the back of him as he continued to walk away.
*
By the time he got back to the flat, the numbness had begun to wear off. Sharp stabs of guilt pricked his skin whilst undulating currents of loss rippled through his chest. He couldn’t bear the enormity of his feelings. He needed more numbness and he needed it now.
Fin headed to the little cupboard in the corner of the kitchen and opened the door. He’d discovered Rob’s alcohol stash a few days after arriving at the flat. At the beginning of his recovery, he would have probably poured them down the drain and replaced them when he left. How foolish to think he was past that.
