Page 66 of Malaise
“It would have been.” I let go and settle back in my seat, yet Carver takes hold of my hand—not as keen apparently to break our connection. “I know I’ll have to face it eventually, just not today.”
“You know,” he says, flexing his free hand on the bottom of the steering wheel. “I’ve been thinking that perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to call your parents today. Just to make sure they understand that despite everything, you’re going to the funeral. They might want to arrive together, or something.” He shrugs. “It can’t hurt.”
He’s not wrong; it can’t. “Is it silly that the thought of calling them makes me feel sick?”
He shakes his head, giving my hand a squeeze. “Not at all. Just means you’re nervous, and that you must still care.”
“Caring and wanting to fix our problems are two different things, though.” I stare out the windscreen at a sheet of newspaper that blows along the alleyway.
“I didn’t say you had to try and make things right between you all straight away. Those kinds of things take time. I more meant to come to a truce for the sake of the day.”
I nod, still looking away.
“Just be the bigger person, Meg. Be the adult if they can’t, and call about the funeral.” He opens his door and lets go of my hand, slipping out from beside me. “You can do it now while we walk through to the shop.”
I turn and watch him as he steps out into the sunshine, intimidating as always in his dark jeans and T-shirt. Intimidating, that is, to everyone but me. I used to look at him the same when I didn’t know him, as some huge mystery of a guy you wouldn’t want to cross in a dark alley. But knowing what I do now, having an insider’s view of how considerate and selfless he is, I can’t look at him without feeling anything but pride. Pride in him for being who he is despite the shit hand he’s been dealt in life, and pride at the fact he’s mine. I get to keep him. At least, if he doesn’t go to jail.
Apprehension stabs at my chest as I get out of the car to join him. I use my right hand to scroll through to Mum and Dad’s number while Carver links his fingers through my left. We walk side by side as I bring the phone to my ear and anxiously wait out the rings. If my heart were to beat any faster, I think Carver would be carrying me limp and unconscious back to the car.
“Hello, Meg.” Damn caller ID.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Unless you’re ringing to tell me you’ve told that criminal to get lost, and you’re ready to join a convent, I don’t think I want to hear it.”
I glance up at Carver, and he meets my gaze with clear concern. “I wanted to ring and say I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Why the hell wouldn’t you?”
“We-well,” I stutter. “I… it’s just with everything, you know, that’s been happening—”
“Regardless, Meg, I would expect you to be at your brother’s funeral.” There’s no softness to his tone, no understanding. It’s almost as though he’s telling me off for being so naïve as to bring it up.
“I just wanted you to know in case you wanted us to show up together, is all,” I whisper.
Carver tugs on my hand to get me to stop, and I curl into his chest, his arm around my shoulders as Dad wraps up our short and terse conversation.
“Last thing I need is people asking questions, so for once you’re finally right about something, Meg—I do want us to show up together. The ceremony starts at three. I expect you at home by two-thirty at the latest so we can arrive as a family.” He sighs. “And Meg… you bring that jailbird with you and mark my words, you will not be allowed in to say farewell to Den. That thug so much as drops you off outside the house, and you can kiss any future relationship with your mother and me goodbye. It’s your choice.”
I barely choke out a, “Fine,” before I lose control of my damned tears for what feels like the hundredth time this week. Fuck the ability to cry.
I disconnect and keep the phone grasped tight in my hand, the bite of the metal shell as it digs into my palm a welcome respite from the ache in my heart. I thought I was over this: the rejection, the failed expectations, and the injustice of it all. Why? Why the fuck did my family have to be the one who fell apart so spectacularly?
Worst summer of my life, for sure.
“Take it he was the same as usual?” Carver murmurs, his hand knitted in my hair as he holds me tight.
“Yeah,” I sob. “Told me you have to stay away or he’d ban me from the funeral, which is fine, I mean, I know it’s not fine, but it’s expected, you know? It’s just… why does he have to be such an arsehole about it all?”
“Because he can’t control you anymore. You’re growing up and making your own choices, and I bet that scares the shit out of him.”
“Why? Did he expect me to do as he said my whole life?”
“No.” He releases his hold on me and wipes the tears from under my eyes. “But I bet he didn’t expect this transition to all happen so fast, especially after losing your brother.”
I sigh as he brings his thumb back to wipe under my eyes again. “I guess you could be right. We’ve all got our reasons for how we react to these kinds of things. I just wish we didn’t have to become strangers to each other while we work through it, that’s all.”
“You know what else?”
I shrug. “What?”
“We need to get you waterproof mascara as well.”
I chuckle and let him wipe away the smears of black with his thumbs as best he can before we stroll the last metres to the shops. Carver walks with a smile on his face, his hand in mine, and as I look up to him I realise that even in the darkest hour, I seem to have found my star to guide me.