Coast
Page 63
Tommy sits between us. My dad next to me, and Ella, Robby and a heavily pregnant Kim, Nat and her fiancé Justin, Blake and Chloe and their families taking up the rest of the pew on the other side of Josh.
Josh’s team had flown back from Hong Kong without attending the event, and going by the look of surprise on Josh’s face, he wasn’t aware of their decision. They sit behind us at the front of the church, along with their families and many others from Josh’s work life.
Members from Grams’s church take up one side of the room, we take up the other. Soon, the church begins to fill, murmured voices and condolences filtering through the air.
I sit with my gaze lowered, with Tommy’s little hand in mine, his finger tracing circles in my palm—another thing Josh does for him when he’s sad.
The service starts, the priest says a few words, and so do her friends and other members of the church. Ella speaks, too, her words covering everything Josh and I feel. And soon, but nowhere near soon enough, it’s all over. I breathe, relieved that I was able to make it through without breaking down. We stand in unison, Josh leading the way, me in one hand, Tommy in the other, and we hold our heads high as we walk down the aisle and toward the church doors. There’s no space in the room left unoccupied. Groups of people stand against the walls, against the corners, anywhere they can to pay their respects to a woman who created a legacy. As we reach the doors, doors ajar from the people trying to pile into the room, I hear a tiny voice call Tommy’s name. We all stop and turn to the sound.
“Nessa,” Tommy shouts, letting go of Josh’s hand. He runs back a few steps and slows just in time to not crash into her. “What are you doing here?”
“We came for Becca,” she says simply, pointing down the row. Members of Say Something—volunteers, kids, parents take up the entire row and the one after it. I cover my mouth with my hand, shocked and confused, and the confusion doubles when I see Pete and the rest of the team from the paper. I turn to Josh, now standing beside me, “How?” I mouth, allowing a single sob to escape. “Why?”
Josh shrugs as he points a couple rows down toward Dawn and Lexy and even Aaron. “They all wanted to be here, Becs. For you.”
I move to Dawn first, allowing her to hug me. She’s been such a huge part of my life for so long and I’d taken that for granted. She’s here. For me. “You’re going to get through this,” she whispers in my ear.
“I know,” I mouth, believing her more than ever before.
I will get through it.
For Grams.
For Josh.
For Tommy.
“You need to look outside,” Dawn says, smiling genuinely at me.
My feet falter, my steps slow as I make my way back to the entrance, Josh doing what he can to keep me upright. It’s all too much. I’m on the verge of falling apart, of shattering in his arms, of becoming nothing more than a thousand pieces he’ll have to work to make whole again.
The crowd at the doors part, allowing Josh and I to walk through.
We freeze when we see it.
Just like time does.
People stand on the steps of the church, litter through to the sidewalk and onto the road, far beyond where my eyes can see.
Hundreds of people stand…
…beneath a sea of red balloons.
Next to me, Josh grabs one from Grams’s crazy friend Mavis and hands it to me, then takes one for himself.
Mavis clears her throat and leans in to whisper, “Your grandmother told me this is how she wanted to be remembered. Up there,”—she points to the sky—“she wanted to give everyone she came across a red balloon.”
“Why?” I mouth, looking up for an answer.
I release the first balloon, then watch as a couple join them, followed by dozens, until the sky is filled with nothing but red.
People clap.
People cheer.
People chant my grandmother’s name.
Mavis laughs, her arms waving in the air as if to work up the crowd. “Your grams was a thousand shades of crazy, Becca,” she shouts. “And we loved every single one.”
* * *
“He finally went down,” Josh says through a sigh, walking into his bedroom while tugging at his tie.
I sit with my legs crossed in the middle of the bed, already changed out of my black dress and into one of his t-shirts. “I can’t believe he’s not exhausted,” I sign.
Josh sits on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched. “I know.” He removes his tie completely and unceremoniously dumps it on the floor. Then he just stares at it. Moments pass before he turns to me. “I’m so beat.”
I scoot on my knees until I’m next to him and start to undo the buttons on his shirtsleeve.
“It’s going to be strange,” he mumbles, his free hand stroking my leg, “coming home and not racing up her porch steps, excited to see her.” He rubs his eyes, not to rid the tears, but to fight the exhaustion. Inhaling deeply, he stands up and starts stripping out of his clothes until he’s standing in his boxers. I watch, because there’s too much beauty in his presence to look away. I seriously could watch him forever. But I don’t have forever. I have the next two days until I go back home and back to the internship, back to double sessions with Dawn three days a week. And Josh goes back to work, all while the world continues to spin with one less wonder in its population.
I move to the top of the bed, lean against the headboard, and pat my lap, returning the smile he offers me before he lies down, his head where I wanted it, his eyes on me.
I stroke his hair with one hand and type on the phone with the other.
“Did you pay for all those people to come from St. Louis?”
Josh shakes his head slowly. “Does it matter?”
He did pay, but he’s also right. It doesn’t matter at all.
“Will you tell me about her?” I ask.
His brow creases. “About your Grams?”
I nod, still stroking his hair. “I feel like I don’t know her… not like I should. And by the time I realized that and wanted to ask, it was too late. She’d didn’t really know herself anymore.”
He stares blankly at the ceiling. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything, really,” I have Cordy say. “Like, what did she do for work?”
His head lifts a little, as if surprised by my question. “She was a nurse,” he says after a beat.
“Really?” I mouth.
“You didn’t know that?”
I shake my head, trying to imagine Grams in a life before my time. “Tell me more.”
Josh’s lips curl at the corners. “You know what…” he says, sitting up. “I can do one better.”
After slipping on a pair of shorts and handing me a pair, Josh checks in on Tommy, and then leads me down his apartment stairs and toward his garage. He starts moving boxes around, and I do the same, though I have no idea what I’m looking for. “So I was in here the other day and remembered what you said—about handing out the clothes and shoes at the shelter.” He drops one on the floor and turns to me, his hands on his hips.
“Sorry. We got a little carried away,” I sign.
He shakes his head. “No, I was actually thinking that we should do that. My mom—she runs the charity side of the business—the Henry Warden Foundation—maybe we could make it a thing, you know? We could do something under Chaz’s name. Maybe get some sponsors involved.”
Josh’s team had flown back from Hong Kong without attending the event, and going by the look of surprise on Josh’s face, he wasn’t aware of their decision. They sit behind us at the front of the church, along with their families and many others from Josh’s work life.
Members from Grams’s church take up one side of the room, we take up the other. Soon, the church begins to fill, murmured voices and condolences filtering through the air.
I sit with my gaze lowered, with Tommy’s little hand in mine, his finger tracing circles in my palm—another thing Josh does for him when he’s sad.
The service starts, the priest says a few words, and so do her friends and other members of the church. Ella speaks, too, her words covering everything Josh and I feel. And soon, but nowhere near soon enough, it’s all over. I breathe, relieved that I was able to make it through without breaking down. We stand in unison, Josh leading the way, me in one hand, Tommy in the other, and we hold our heads high as we walk down the aisle and toward the church doors. There’s no space in the room left unoccupied. Groups of people stand against the walls, against the corners, anywhere they can to pay their respects to a woman who created a legacy. As we reach the doors, doors ajar from the people trying to pile into the room, I hear a tiny voice call Tommy’s name. We all stop and turn to the sound.
“Nessa,” Tommy shouts, letting go of Josh’s hand. He runs back a few steps and slows just in time to not crash into her. “What are you doing here?”
“We came for Becca,” she says simply, pointing down the row. Members of Say Something—volunteers, kids, parents take up the entire row and the one after it. I cover my mouth with my hand, shocked and confused, and the confusion doubles when I see Pete and the rest of the team from the paper. I turn to Josh, now standing beside me, “How?” I mouth, allowing a single sob to escape. “Why?”
Josh shrugs as he points a couple rows down toward Dawn and Lexy and even Aaron. “They all wanted to be here, Becs. For you.”
I move to Dawn first, allowing her to hug me. She’s been such a huge part of my life for so long and I’d taken that for granted. She’s here. For me. “You’re going to get through this,” she whispers in my ear.
“I know,” I mouth, believing her more than ever before.
I will get through it.
For Grams.
For Josh.
For Tommy.
“You need to look outside,” Dawn says, smiling genuinely at me.
My feet falter, my steps slow as I make my way back to the entrance, Josh doing what he can to keep me upright. It’s all too much. I’m on the verge of falling apart, of shattering in his arms, of becoming nothing more than a thousand pieces he’ll have to work to make whole again.
The crowd at the doors part, allowing Josh and I to walk through.
We freeze when we see it.
Just like time does.
People stand on the steps of the church, litter through to the sidewalk and onto the road, far beyond where my eyes can see.
Hundreds of people stand…
…beneath a sea of red balloons.
Next to me, Josh grabs one from Grams’s crazy friend Mavis and hands it to me, then takes one for himself.
Mavis clears her throat and leans in to whisper, “Your grandmother told me this is how she wanted to be remembered. Up there,”—she points to the sky—“she wanted to give everyone she came across a red balloon.”
“Why?” I mouth, looking up for an answer.
I release the first balloon, then watch as a couple join them, followed by dozens, until the sky is filled with nothing but red.
People clap.
People cheer.
People chant my grandmother’s name.
Mavis laughs, her arms waving in the air as if to work up the crowd. “Your grams was a thousand shades of crazy, Becca,” she shouts. “And we loved every single one.”
* * *
“He finally went down,” Josh says through a sigh, walking into his bedroom while tugging at his tie.
I sit with my legs crossed in the middle of the bed, already changed out of my black dress and into one of his t-shirts. “I can’t believe he’s not exhausted,” I sign.
Josh sits on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched. “I know.” He removes his tie completely and unceremoniously dumps it on the floor. Then he just stares at it. Moments pass before he turns to me. “I’m so beat.”
I scoot on my knees until I’m next to him and start to undo the buttons on his shirtsleeve.
“It’s going to be strange,” he mumbles, his free hand stroking my leg, “coming home and not racing up her porch steps, excited to see her.” He rubs his eyes, not to rid the tears, but to fight the exhaustion. Inhaling deeply, he stands up and starts stripping out of his clothes until he’s standing in his boxers. I watch, because there’s too much beauty in his presence to look away. I seriously could watch him forever. But I don’t have forever. I have the next two days until I go back home and back to the internship, back to double sessions with Dawn three days a week. And Josh goes back to work, all while the world continues to spin with one less wonder in its population.
I move to the top of the bed, lean against the headboard, and pat my lap, returning the smile he offers me before he lies down, his head where I wanted it, his eyes on me.
I stroke his hair with one hand and type on the phone with the other.
“Did you pay for all those people to come from St. Louis?”
Josh shakes his head slowly. “Does it matter?”
He did pay, but he’s also right. It doesn’t matter at all.
“Will you tell me about her?” I ask.
His brow creases. “About your Grams?”
I nod, still stroking his hair. “I feel like I don’t know her… not like I should. And by the time I realized that and wanted to ask, it was too late. She’d didn’t really know herself anymore.”
He stares blankly at the ceiling. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything, really,” I have Cordy say. “Like, what did she do for work?”
His head lifts a little, as if surprised by my question. “She was a nurse,” he says after a beat.
“Really?” I mouth.
“You didn’t know that?”
I shake my head, trying to imagine Grams in a life before my time. “Tell me more.”
Josh’s lips curl at the corners. “You know what…” he says, sitting up. “I can do one better.”
After slipping on a pair of shorts and handing me a pair, Josh checks in on Tommy, and then leads me down his apartment stairs and toward his garage. He starts moving boxes around, and I do the same, though I have no idea what I’m looking for. “So I was in here the other day and remembered what you said—about handing out the clothes and shoes at the shelter.” He drops one on the floor and turns to me, his hands on his hips.
“Sorry. We got a little carried away,” I sign.
He shakes his head. “No, I was actually thinking that we should do that. My mom—she runs the charity side of the business—the Henry Warden Foundation—maybe we could make it a thing, you know? We could do something under Chaz’s name. Maybe get some sponsors involved.”
