Chapter Forty-Two – [Memory, Summer Break before Senior Year, August] – This, Too, Will Pass
Why did it have to be so hot? A sweltering August was making all his mom's flowerbeds perish slowly, overcome by the unbreathable air, their heads drooping low. Lyn was watching them, peering through the window, while inhaling yet another glass of iced tea.
The AC had broken down two days ago. His mom was on a short pleasure trip with the widower, and Lyn didn't have the kind of money necessary to get a repairman to look at it. Calling her to ask for help didn't feel right. The widower might overhear her, and Lyn had had enough in his life of people who treated his mom and him like beggars. Not that the widower seemed to be that kind of person, but Lyn had learned to be cautious when people showed kindness a long time ago. It wasn't always genuine.
He might have to consider sleeping outside tonight… but he didn't want to risk scandalizing the neighbors by dragging his mattress into the backyard. The houses were way too close to each other here.
He could call Brad. Or Alexander. Lyn snorted. He was so hot and so bored that he was even keen on the idea of willingly engaging in a theoretical debate with his annoying friend only so he didn't have to feel like he was melting and turning into a puddle on the kitchen floor.
He placed his phone on the table and went to the fridge again. If he stuck his head in there, would he escape the heat?
The cheerful ringtone announcing a call from Brad interrupted his heat-induced delirium. Well, he welcomed the distraction.
"Hey, man," he answered right away, his current woes already forgotten. "What's up?"
"Lyn, my man," Brad replied in the same cheerful tone. "I was thinking of kidnapping you for a week or so. A trip to the wild side."
"I wouldn't mind that. When are we leaving?"
Brad snickered. "I love how you didn't even ask for details."
"Do I have to?" Lyn laughed, too. "Hang on. I'm getting another call."
Lyn stared at the screen, slightly confused. While he did have his mom's friend Arya's contact, she almost never called him. Could it be that she couldn't reach his mom?
"Hi, Arya," he said, without hiding his confusion.
"Lyn, baby." She stopped abruptly. "It's about your mom."
The sweat on his back turned into ice in a split second. He could hear the words, but they were swimming toward him like helpless small fish against a strong current. And he was being pulled under, deep in the water. Arya's sobs were merely an afterthought.
He sat down automatically. He replied to each of Arya's questions automatically. He was underwater.
When he switched back to Brad's call, his hands felt as if they were made of lead. He stopped his friend's chatter before it reached him.
"My mom died."
***
People around him shifted in their seats, fanning themselves with whatever they could, despite the coolness inside the church. Lyn didn't feel the heat at all. Random whispers reached him from time to time but slid past him like slippery eels.
He stared blankly ahead. Was his mom in there? Hidden or trapped underneath that heavy lid? Everything had burned so fast that identifying the victims had been a nightmare. It was only because Arya knew his mom was on that plane that he had someone to bury now.
But what was he burying? Melted parts of the deluxe upholstery that had burned along with the people inside? Maybe there were parts of the crew and even some of the widower inside the closed casket. Whatever all those parts were, down to the smallest atom, Lyn couldn't conceive of the fact that his mom was in there as well. He hadn't seen her dead, so she didn't seem to have died. Only gone, somewhere she would never return from.
He had tried to cry, but on the inside, he was completely frozen. A numbness had enveloped him, and a random thought advised him that maybe it was for the best. Men don't cry, and all that.
Arya appeared to be the only person in the room who understood the importance of sitting still while paying respect to the departed. She wasn't cooling herself off with a fan or using a handkerchief to pat her face.
Who were all these people? Lyn had looked around momentarily, but their faces blended into a sea of eyes turned toward him.
He tore his eyes away from the casket and looked at Arya's profile. She was holding her head high, clutching a black purse on her lap. Only her eyes were shining unnaturally, contrasting with her otherwise perfect appearance.
She must have felt his gaze on her because she turned her head. Her discreet, heartfelt smile broke his heart.
"My mom was very beautiful, too," he whispered.
Arya took his hand and squeezed it hard. Her glove felt so smooth against his skin. "That she was, baby. That she was."
***
"You guys didn't have to come."
Lyn couldn't bring himself to look at Brad and Alexander. It felt so strange, so out of place, to see them dressed in black, looking so serious and suddenly older than their age. He wanted to keep things separated, not to let them mingle so haphazardly that they made a mess out of everything.
"Are you freaking kidding me, man? We're here for you, goddamn it," Brad whispered, leaning forward, his handsome face reflecting a string of conflicting emotions. He held his arms at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them. Lyn suspected that he wanted to give him a hug. That would be so like Brad.
"Language, Bradley," Alexander warned in the same low voice. "We're still on holy ground."
The burial service was over. Lyn had offered his thanks to everyone who had come to see Blanche Calloway on her last road. Only his friends lingered. And Arya, but she was waiting for him in the car.
"Yeah, sorry," Brad whispered back.
"Bradley is right, however," Alexander added. "We had to come."
"Please, don't say you're sorry. I've heard enough of that today," Lyn said.
"We won't," Alexander assured him.
"You guys should leave, too," Lyn said. His eyes kept sliding past his friends, resting on their solemn faces only briefly. "I mean, there's nothing left to do here." The words kept getting stuck in his throat.
"Like hell," Brad murmured. "Sorry," he added quickly. "But me and Alexander here, we don't want to leave. We're here to take you away."
"Take me away?" Lyn looked up, not understanding.
"Yeah. We need to like throw rocks or something. His Majesty spotted a lake nearby. It looks like a great place for that."
Lyn clutched his chest for a moment. The sensation was so weird he didn't recognize it at first. He stopped it right in time. He was about to laugh.
"Throw rocks?" he asked.
"Yeah," Brad replied like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Even Alexander vetted the idea. And you know how he is."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear the last part. Otherwise, it's true," Alexander reinforced Brad's words.
Lyn looked at the black car where Arya was still waiting for him.
"I'll have to let my mom's friend know."
"The smoking hot one?" Brad asked. "Sorry, I'm really nervous. I haven't been to many of… these."
"Neither have I," Lyn replied, the words rolling off his tongue more naturally now. His chest was slowly de-shrinking, returning to its normal size.
Alexander's hand on his shoulder grounded him. It was surprising to have him, not Brad, touch him first. Lyn's eyes met his friend's. Their usual cold fire was gone. But at least there wasn't any trace of pity in them. Alexander looked determined.
"Come on, Lynton," he said, his voice softened by emotion. "As absurd as Bradley's ideas might be at times, there's hardly anyone around with a heart bigger than his. And since you're hearing me speak of abstract things such as the heart, an internal organ, being a stand-in for personality, you must know that we're serious. Let's get the hell out of here."
"Alexander, language," Brad said with a low snicker. "Like, what the hell, man?"
"Okay," Lyn said, nodding to reinforce his decision. The funeral was over. And he'd go with his friends to make rocks skip across the surface of a lake. Nothing seemed absurd anymore; not even death.
He rushed to the car. Arya rolled down the window. Guilt overcame him as he grabbed the edge of the glass with one hand.
"My friends--" he started, feeling doubt creeping in.
"Go with them," Arya said, nodding in understanding. She put her hand over his briefly. "Don't worry, baby. This, too, will pass. We'll see ourselves through."
Was this really the right moment? His shoulders shook as he fought to keep it in. Arya reached inside her purse and handed him a pack of tissues. He took one and attempted to give the rest back to her.
"Keep it," she said. "I believe I have half the local supply at home, and the other half in my purse. Go now. Best friends are for life. Don't forget that, okay, Lyn?"
He nodded, slowly pulling himself away. She encouraged him again, with a smile and a short nod. He started running as soon as he turned on his heel. His friends were waiting, Brad with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, Alexander standing a little rigid in his perfectly tailored suit, slightly apart from one another, creating a space between them meant just for him.
It felt good, and not only the brush of the air cooling his face.
It felt good knowing that he had someone to run to. And he always would have.
TBC