Seven Days: The Complete Story Read online

  “What the hell happened back there?” Emily is in shock. Actually, I think we’re both in shock.

  “I learnt a valuable lesson about the power of maternal instinct.”

  “You scared the bejesus out of Mr Lawson. I gather that’s who he was. He looks like Nicholas.”

  At that, I begin to tear up but I hold it together by stroking little Nicky’s back. “Didn’t he introduce himself to you?”

  “I guess he thought I recognised him. We spoke on the phone yesterday when we discussed the plans for the funeral.”

  And the taking of my baby. Well, that’s one plan that won’t be coming to fruition. “It’s not going to be some massive over the top thing, is it? Nicholas wasn’t like that.”

  “I don’t think so. For all their money, the Lawson’s seem like private people. They’re not flashy.”

  I can’t count the number of times I said that about Nicholas. “Will there be a coffin? Is he laid out somewhere? I want to see him. I haven’t said goodbye.”

  “I can take you on the way home if you want. And if you don’t want to go in the car tomorrow, Alex has offered to drive us.”

  “Really?”

  “He says he’s sorry. I think he realises he was harsh to judge you the way he did. He knows how much you mean to me and deep down all he wants is to make me happy, though he might not show it sometimes. He’s not bending on the bridesmaid thing though, but I’m working on him.”

  I reach across and place my hand on hers. After everything that’s happened Emily is here for me. We are best friends again.

  We pull up in the parking area of the funeral home. It’s another quiet place in a series of quiet places and I have to stand and breathe for a good two minutes before I have the courage to follow Emily up the front steps. I listen as she speaks in low tones to the funeral director. He glides across the carpeted floor to greet me. “Hello Sadie. I understand you’d like to see Nicholas?”

  I nod. My voice has left me again.

  “Do you want me to look after Nicky for a bit?” Emily asks. “So you can be alone?”

  I nod again and hand the baby to her. She cradles him in her arms and sits in a velvet chair, cooing softly to him. I follow the funeral director. I’m scared. Sure, I’ve seen dead people before— not in a Sixth Sense kind of way— but a real dead person, Mum. This is somehow different though. This is Nicholas.

  The room is dimly lit. It’s cold and, stupidly, I worry that Nicholas might be cold too. I wish I’d bought him a blanket. Then I notice the casket. The lid is leant in a corner of the room, leaving it fully open. I walk toward it, one foot methodically stepping in front of the other, slowly willing myself to look, knowing that this is important for closure. I have to say goodbye. I have to tell him one last time that I love him. I have to make sure he’s wearing that lovely grey suit and a white shirt. He looks so handsome in that suit.

  And then I see Joel.

  He’s sitting in the darkness on the other side of the casket from me. He has his forearms resting on the side of the coffin and his chin leans against them. He’s talking to Nicholas. He’s telling him what a good mate he was, that he’s sorry for the grief he caused.

  Oh fuck.

  I can’t do this.

  I can’t be Joel’s rock and grieve as well.

  Joel looks up. Tears are sliding down his cheeks. He swipes them away and sniffs. His voice catches as he speaks, “Ariel.”

  Somehow my feet manage to carry me to the other side of the coffin and I sit next to Joel. I put my hand on his knee. “I’m here.”

  He straightens. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  And that’s when I take him in my arms. This is not over. It will never be over.

  SEVEN DAYS FOR ETERNITY

  (Seven Days Part 5)

  CHAPTER ONE

  It’s been seven days since Nicholas died. Seven days since I kissed his lips or touched his hair. Seven days since I saw his smile and felt the warmth from his body as he held me to him. And now it’s over. The short time we had together, that felt so right from the moment we met, can never be gotten back. Not with words or apologies, not with the return of Joel. My Nicholas is gone forever.

  Our last day together was definitely not one of our high points as a couple. The yelling and arguing, the accusations are not memories I want to keep in my head. Instead, I’ve been focusing on the good things, the happy times. I’m trying to remember the way Nicholas’ laugh lit up his eyes and the way he held me and told me he loved me. I’m remembering the little things — the touch of his hand, his excitement at my graduation, when he saw the baby move for the first time, his ability to down seven tequilas and still be standing.

  The sun is streaming through the windows of the church where Nicholas was baptised and his parents were married. Its rays are making pretty stained glass patterns that begin on the flagstone floor and continue up the legs of the trolley and across the fine wood of Nicholas’ coffin. They’re keeping my Nicholas warm, I hope. His body was so cold the last time I touched it. They’re making him smile. Nicholas always loved the sun. He was an outdoors guy.

  Behind us, the church is overflowing with people, most of whom I’ve never met but all who seem as shocked as I at his sudden departure. There’s weeping, gentle touches, kind words and offers of assistance should I need it. People are smiling at me in that way you do when you take pity on another person. I hate that smile; it feels condescending, like they’re trying to placate me. They’re scared I’ll flip again, so everyone’s treading on eggshells. I’m not going to lose it though. I’m not going to go on a screaming rant. I’m over that. Instead, I’m compiling a list in my head of ways I can live without Nicholas.

  The list is extremely short.

  I’m existing merely to get through this day so I can make the list a little longer. Maybe.

  To my left, Joel sits mutely. He’s perfectly styled in expensive black shoes, a grey suit, white shirt and black tie. Even his blonde twists of hair have been tamed for the occasion. His eyes are shaded by dark glasses, which he refuses to take off. It’s been a big few days for him. He’s been hitting the bottle hard, I think. And though he still looks utterly melt-your-bones gorgeous I know it’s that front he puts on when he’s hurting. I see the real Joel beneath it. He’s worn that suit because it’s expected but Nicholas wouldn’t have cared if Joel showed up in board shorts. I should have told him to wear jeans. At least he would have been comfortable. Well, as comfortable as you can feel at a funeral.

  Joel’s body is rigid, a complete antithesis of his usual fluidity and when I reach over to touch his hand he feels like ice, almost as if he’s dead too. I’ve tried to make this easier for him but I can feel the hurt bouncing from his skin wanting to stab me. He’s not my Joel; he’s a shell of something he used to be when Nicholas was alive. And I know exactly what he’s thinking. He’s blaming me for Nicholas’ death. He doesn’t need to say a thing for me to realise that. I blame myself every minute of the day.

  The very expensive casket, paid for by Mr. Lawson, is in the aisle to my right. It has a massive wreath of lilies on the top. Nicholas loves lilies. I mean, they wouldn’t be mass planted in front of his house and office if he didn’t. He said his mother called them death lilies and could never understand his choice but Nicholas loves order, form and simplistic beauty. The lily encapsulates this perfectly. I stare at the arrangement. It’s hard to get my head around the fact he’s in the box below them, even though I’ve seen him there and sat with him for an hour this morning before the service, holding his hand. It’s harder to absorb that I’ll never see him again or hold him or kiss him. And baby Nicky having no father is the hardest thing of all.

  I can cope. I’ve done it before… but a baby? How is a baby meant to be without a parent? I’m going to have to be both parents now.

  During the service there’s a slide show montage of photos. It’s filled with Nicholas as a little boy, Nicholas receiving his degree and some awards, Nicho
las and his family. It’s impersonal and I’m fine until the selfie of our unborn baby and us appears on the screen. The tears well in my eyes and I don’t bother with a hanky. I don’t care if they ruin the makeup Emily took so long to apply. I sniff and watch the images pass me by until another comes that stirs up a memory. It’s one I snapped of him on my iPhone. A quickly taken photo from a day when he was on site at Iris. He’s laughing into the lens. He has his hard hat on. It’s Nicholas all over. It’s this photo that makes me fall into a heap because I remember shortly after that he called me a minx and told me to stop distracting him when he was trying to work. My tears are silent yet I feel as if I may die from the pain of them. Only Joel’s arm that comes to rest around my shoulder and his hand resting comfortingly on my skin make me feel less lost. I can blubber into his sleeve and know he feels the way I do, that of all the people in the world, Joel is the one person who gets this grief. He understands because he loved Nicholas too.

  The service seems to be over in an instant. Mr. Lawson speaks, Joel speaks, a priest says meaningless prayers I’m positive Nicholas never wanted and then suddenly the coffin is disappearing down the aisle to be taken to the crematorium. As the attendants wheel it by me, I have this urge to leap on it, to stop Nicholas from going. I want to keep him with me forever but I know I can’t, so I watch with tears falling down my face as Nicholas leaves me for the last time. I whisper a goodbye to him but I know that he’ll never truly leave. Nicky is with me. He has his father’s eyes and his father’s heart.

  After the cremation, we go to the Lawson’s house for the wake. I’m glad that Mr. Lawson wanted to have it here where there was room for the three hundred friends and family Nicholas has suddenly acquired. I couldn’t face being at our house so soon. I haven’t been back since the birth. There are too many memories in that house and I don’t know if I’ll be able to cope when I’m there later. More to the point, I don’t know if I’ll cope with Joel being there. I mean, it’s his house too. He has to live somewhere. I can’t kick him out. I can’t make him stay in a hotel, even though he offered. That’d be plain weird. Besides, I need to keep him near me so I can keep an eye on him. Someone has to care for Joel. He’s more fragile than he appears.

  The wake is a little more upbeat, like the weight of death is lifted. There’s a playlist of Nicholas’ favourite songs made by one of the building team from Iris. Jill and Mr. Lawson have done a great job catering with the foods Nicholas loved to eat. There’s photos scattered about the room and different groups are sharing memories, most of which don’t include either Joel or me. It’s funny how we can be such a major part of his life and yet have had seemingly so little impact on it. I guess my life with Nicholas was only beginning. We don’t have a past.

  And we never will.

  As I stand by the fireplace, people I’ve never met come to me to offer condolences. Strangely, the presence of a baby makes the whole thing a little less awkward. Instead of saying how sorry they are for the fiftieth time today, baby Nicky gives them another topic of conversation. I’m glad of it too. I’m not one for fake platitudes.

  At the end of the queue two ancient aunties appear. They look like twins in their floral dresses and old-fashioned court shoes. They coo over Nicky and say without hesitation that he’s the spit of his father when he was a boy. They tell me stories of one summer when Nicholas and his cousins swung on the clothesline until they bent it in half, sending granny into a rage. They chuckle over the Billy carts he made when he was ten, how he forced his cousins to race down the driveway and crash into the bushes at the bottom so one broke an arm. They speak of elaborate cubbies Nicholas built out of scrap wood from the garden shed, much to his father’s disgust. Nicholas was into everything. He was always creating.

  I am cheered. I like hearing these stories because I never knew much about his childhood. He sounds so normal, the opposite of the way his father wanted him to behave.

  “Can baby Nicky and I come visit you some time?” I ask them. “I want him to know who his father was. I don’t know that much about him as a boy. You two seem to know it all.”

  “We’d love you to come, lassie,” one of the ladies says. “Nicholas was such a scallywag. It’ll be fun to relive the old days again. I might even be able to dig out a few photos for you.”

  “That would be lovely,” I say. “I’m sure Nicky would like to hear the stories about his dad when he’s old enough.”

  “And what about you, child? What are you planning to do now?” Everyone knows my circumstance. They know I was living with Nicholas in his and Joel’s house. I guess they’re speculating about where I’ll go or if I’ll stay.

  “I’m not sure what I’m doing,” I say. “I’ve been staying with my friend Emily and her fiancée since I got out of the hospital but I feel like I’m imposing, especially with the wedding being so close. I’ll have to go home soon.”

  If I knew exactly where my home was.

  We chat for a while longer and then, at last, the crowd begins to thin. I see Joel out on the terrace, leaning on the railing and I wonder if I should go to him. We haven’t spoken properly. He’s been so preoccupied and I’ve been avoiding him because I’m a little afraid of what we might say to each other. I don’t know why. I suck in a breath and head in his direction.

  I pause beside him and look out into the garden. I sneak my hand in the direction of his, too scared to take his yet hoping he’ll reach for mine. Joel has his eyes trained somewhere in the distance. He’s ignoring my hand. I wish he’d look at me. I want him to tell me everything’s going to be okay, that we can get through this together. I want him to make some wise crack to break this awkward black ice between us.

  I give up waiting and nudge his side. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “It’s heavy in there.”

  “Yeah. Lotta people.”

  And that’s the extent of the conversation for the next three minutes. It appears that the roses trailing the arbor are more interesting to Joel. And he’s not ‘a plant man.’

  Then the baby begins to snuffle. I feel him wriggling against me and I cluck and soothe him. It’s enough to gain Joel’s attention.

  “Can I see him?”

  I turn toward Joel and gently pull the swaddling aside. The baby is nestled into my chest, his eyes closed, sucking his thumb. He’s wearing a little blue romper Emily bought because the clothes we originally got are too big for a premmie and even the one he’s got on is a little baggy for him. His blue striped beanie almost covers his eyes. The nurses assured me he’d fill out quickly though. I think they’re right. He already feels heavier now he’s getting the hang of feeding without the tube.

  “This is Nicholas Joel Lawson.” I smile up at Joel. “Nicky, meet your old uncle Joel.”

  “Hey, enough with the ‘old’.”

  “I could have said playboy.”

  “Slight improvement.” He looks down at the baby. “You named the kid after me?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve got a thing for Joel Madden.”

  A sort of chuckling snort escapes Joel’s lips and for a second he’s my old Joel, the one I love. He strokes the baby’s cheek. “Hey there, little fella. You gotta watch your mum. She’s a bit of a wise arse.”

  “Don’t swear in front of the baby,” I chastise.

  A tender smile bends Joel’s lips. He’s so gentle, so loving as he continues to stroke the baby’s head with his finger. It’s a different side of my wild boisterous Joel. “He’s adorable, Sadie. He looks like you.”

  Together, we watch the baby for a bit more, both of us with these goofy maternal-proud type of smiles. Then I say, “Do you want a hold?” I know that sounds like a weird think to ask, given boys usually run a mile from the word baby, let alone want to hold a real one, but it seems like something Joel might want to do. This baby could be his connection to Nicholas.

  “Um. Yeah. Okay.” He looks nervous.

  Understandable. Baby Nicky is very teeny.

>   “It’s okay. You won’t break him.” I take the baby from his pouch and hand him to Joel. Joel’s big hands are like a cradle enveloping Nicky’s body. He holds him awkwardly to begin with, then lifts him to snuggle him into his chest, rocking him gently.

  “You’re a natural.”

  “Hmm, debatable. Don’t think I’ve ever held a baby.”

  “First time for everything.”

  The baby opens his eyes and looks up at Joel. He removes his thumb from his mouth.

  “He’s a cutie, alright.” Joel smiles at me. It’s nice to see him smile.

  “I know. Just like his daddy. He has that intenseness Nicholas had about the eyes.”

  Joel stiffens. “Okay, you can have him back now. I don’t want to ruin my rep being seen getting gooey over a kid.”

  Shit. I’ve hurt him. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have mentioned the dead person in the room. Not even if it’s true.

  I take the baby and settle him into his pouch. “Bit late for that. Besides, girls love men and babies. It’s like a guy with a puppy. Instant chick magnet.”

  “Are you proposing to rent the baby out to me so I can pick up girls?”

  I grin. “I never thought of that. It could be a great money-spinner. You’ll have to learn how to look after him first, though.”

  Joel picks up his wine glass from the railing and takes a swig before replacing it. “What are we gonna do without him, Ariel?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble. “I’ve been trying to figure that out for the last week. I have literally no clue.”

  “Are you coming home tonight? I’m lonely.”

  “You’ve only been there a day or so.”

  “It’s weird there by myself.”

  “Imagine how weird it was for Nicholas and I without you.”

  And this is the crux of the matter. I don’t want to go home because it’s less weird for Joel. I want to be there because Joel wants me. And not as a replacement for his best friend, but because he needs me and loves me for me.

  “I don’t think I can,” I say. “Not yet.”