Unweaving pt. 2

A weak breeze blew, taking some of the stifling heat off Robin’s skin. The relief lasted only a moment and she was again overwhelmed by the hot air. She squinted up at the pale blue sky, unbroken by clouds.

She sat in the front row of the large crowd, glad to be one of the few who had a chair. It wasn’t exactly hard for her to stand, her legs weren’t weak, her head was clear, but still she was amazed her legs were holding her upright. Standing took effort, it took a choice and a resolve, and she didn’t think she had any of that.

All day, from waking up in the dark after a fitful night of sleep to standing here in the cemetery, she wasn’t sure how she did any of it. But she was here, so she must have accomplished it somehow.

Caius’s father sat on her right, the chair the only thing keeping him partially erect. He was folded over himself, his head hovering near his knees. Robin wasn’t sure if he was listening to the minister’s words. His wide eyes stared straight at the ground, unmoving.

A hand brushed across Robin’s back and came to rest around her arm. She looked to her left and into her mother’s blue eyes. Her mother squeezed her tightly and Robin lowered her head onto her mother’s shoulder, tears pressing in her eyes.

For a long moment she let herself feel nothing but the comforting pressure of her mother’s arm. Then a sob started in her chest, a clenching fist that rolled up through her middle and into her throat. She stifled it before it flew out of her mouth and a she exhaled sharply. The effort to keep herself quite forced the tears from her eyes and she turned her head so her face was completely covered in the soft fabric of her mother’s shoulder, reaching her hand out to grasp at her mother and feeling arms engulf her.

She did not attempt to calm herself or regain composer. Still it did not take long for the wave of grief to pass. The sharp pain that stabbed inside her dulled on its own, replaced by the deep emptiness that had lingered inside her from the moment they told her Caius was dead.

All her emotions were swallowed up in that pit, even her grief, and it left her feeling weak, insubstantial. She tried to imagine how Caius’ family felt, how his father and brother would make it through this tragedy so soon after losing a wife and mother. But sympathy and concern got eaten by the emptiness and all she could think of was her own loss, the long days ahead without him.

At the funeral Caius’ coffin had been closed. She wasn’t sure if she was glad for that or if it was some horrible injustice that she hadn’t been able to see him one last time. She felt strange being singled out at the service, being one of the people to receive sympathies and condolences. Caius had been a son and a brother, what was a meager word like boyfriend next to that.

But he’d felt like so much more to her, more than a boyfriend. She’d looked up at the picture next to the coffin and reflected how lacking it was. It made his tight black curls look flat. It showed nothing of the bright gleam in his green eyes when he talked, or the way his soft mouth curled playfully.

She wanted to see those things again, to put her hands through his hair one more time and feel the firmness of his cheek. But she was also afraid, afraid that the boy in the coffin wouldn’t be Caius. That it would be some physical thing, some object with nothing of her closest friend remaining.

Robin did not notice when the minister stopped talking, she only heard people around her standing and shuffling around. She took a few deep breaths of the hot, stuffy air. She wanted it to be cold, for a wind to bite at her skin and let her feel something. Instead she was awash in murky, suffocating heat.

She lifted her face to her mother’s and they held each other’s gaze for a long moment. She knew her own blue eyes must be red and puffy, but her mothers were dry. Still, a heavy weight of sadness pulled at them as she studied her daughter.

Her mother gestured with her eyes, behind Robin, then looked at her daughter again. Robin nodded and squeezed her mother’s hand. She took a deep breath and stood up, her mother standing with her, a supportive hand on her back.

Kyle Griffiths still sat, his head hanging limp between his knees, his hands clasped together tightly. He had Caius’ black curls, but even before his recent hardships, had never shared his youngest son’s sanguine attitude. That light, optimistic nature Caius had gotten from his mother, and when she died last year he had been the only thing bringing any joy to the morose Griffiths home. Now it would just be Kyle and his oldest son, Oliver.

Oliver sat next to his father, his face an expressionless mask. He looked so much like his brother. They had the same strong chin with a slight dimple in the middle, the same curving cheeks and green eyes. But Oliver’s features were more bulky, more masculine than his brother’s. Robin has always found it odd how the two boys could be built to look so much the same, yet their expressions were always so different.

Caius couldn’t help but smile, lifting his whole face in bright excitement. But Oliver looked often as he did today, unmoved and unaffected by the world around him, his face a stern, unreadable block.

A slight wind picked up. Robin was grateful that her blond hair was done up tight in a bun, letting the wind whip across her bare neck and carry away some of the heat.

She reached her hand down, putting it lightly on Kyle’s shoulder. He looked up at her, his brown eyes had a longing look, searching for something. She dropped to her knees next to him and reached out to wrap her hand around his clenched fists. She stayed with him like that, her mother standing to the side, as people filed past, some muttering condolences, others trying to speak more formally to him, but giving up when he did not respond.

His eyes shifted from Robin to the ground and back again, avoiding the crowd around him. Oliver received everyone, shaking hands, nodding mechanically, his expression immobile except for his eyes, which met each person in turn.

Robin tried to avoid the eyes of the people around her. It was mostly people from school, Caius’ friends and hers. She didn’t want to see them, didn’t want to think about their life and their happy times together, only to have those memories swallowed into the emptiness inside her. So she kept her head down, watching Kyle.

Robin’s mother and father had done all they could to help the Griffiths with the funeral. Both men had been in a daze since Caius had died and had no extended family to assist with the procedures and formalities.  

She looked up to watch her father. He stood next to the young minister, who looked even more diminutive than his twenty-three years as he stood next to the broad, towering figure of Paul Mayfield. The two men nodded and gestured toward Kyle.

Daniel, Robin’s little brother, left his mother’s side to join their father. He said nothing, just listened as the men talked about procedures and the business of funerals.

Soon cars were pulling away and the cemetery around them emptied. Wind blew tree branches and long black shadows danced over the tombstones. Around them the workers from the funeral home where gathering the folding chairs, polity avoiding the two still occupied by Kyle and his son. One of the workers joined her father and the minister and the three of them talked.

“Kyle,” her mother said, “we can take you when you’re ready.”

Robin sighed deeply. She knew the wake was next. Everything was set up at Caius’ church. There it would be even harder to ignore people; they would all be snacking and chatting, reminiscing about Caius, about his performance on the basketball court or the silly stories he was always writing. They would try to pull her into the conversation, try to help her feel better.

She at Kyle and knew he must be thinking the same, that a room full of well wishers was the last thing he wanted right now.

“I was thinking, maybe,” she looked into Kyle’s weary eyes, “that you guys might like to go straight home.” Robin suggested.

Oliver turned at that, not saying anything but nodding slightly.

“That would be nice, I’m just not sure I can...” Kyle looked down at the ground again.

Oliver stood and held his hand out for his father. Kyle released Robin’s hand and took his son’s, resting heavily on Oliver are as he pulled himself to his feet.

“Ok, we’ll join you in just a sec, we’re just going to get Paul,” her mother said as they walked to join Robin’s father.

Kyle and Oliver walked to the car and her mother leaned in close, whispering harshly in Robin’s ear. “They don’t need any more time alone in that house.”

“It won’t be any better for them at the wake,” Robin countered, “This was almost too much for them,” she swung her arm out, gesturing to the cemetery, “and they didn’t really have to talk to anyone. What would they do at the wake?”

“People would understand, Robin, they would leave them alone.”

“Right, so they would just sit there, not saying anything, not doing anything. They might as well be home where they can be somewhat comfortable. And then maybe, you could take me home after your drop them off,” she added weakly.

They had reached where her father still stood with the minister and the funeral director. Daniel came forward and reached out for his sister’s hand. She took it without thinking, barely looking down at him.

“It should be four weeks. We’ll let you know when it’s shipped. Usually the placing ceremony is much smaller, just family.” The funeral director cast a quick eye to Kyle as he climbed in the car.

“They are talking about the gravestone,” her mother whispered to Robin, unnecessarily.

Paul looked over to his wife and children then reached his hand out to the director, “Thank you so much,” his massive hand wrapped around the man’s smaller one, “I’ll be in touch about the details.”

“I’ll see you at the church,” the young minister said to her father.

“We are taking Oliver and his dad home,” Robin said, “They were getting pretty overwhelmed.”

“Well, do you really think that’s best?” Her father asked.

“People will be expecting them at the wake.” Her mother added.

The conversation became too much for Robin, talking about formalities and other people’s expectations. The heat beat down on her, making her head feel like it was packed with hot coals. She felt blood rush from her head as she swayed to the side. Her mother steadied her and worry flooded her face.

“Maybe it would be best if we skip the wake,” she said to her husband, “I think this day has been long enough.”

“If you think it’s ok Ellen, then you should go ahead. Maybe I’ll hitch a ride with Minster Wolcott to the wake and make apologies.”

Robin didn’t really listen to anything more, not even looking back up at her father as they turned to leave. Her stomach was upset and her head still felt unbalanced.

On the drive to the Griffiths house her mother had tried to say a few small pleasantries, about how peaceful the cemetery had looked, about how lucky they were it hadn’t rained. But after a few blocks of only receiving grunts and nods in response, she gave up.

Robin wished it had rained. Rain would have felt right, and at least it would have been cooler.

They pulled up the Griffiths’ driveway and part of Robin wanted to get out and walk the men into their house. She thought about making sure there was something planned for dinner and that Oliver took his medication. She knew Caius had usually done those types of chores.

But the emptiness pulled inside her, taking away her will, her empathy. All she could do was watch the men walk slowly to their door, not talking to each other, barely looking at each other.

Maybe her mother had been right, maybe some time at the wake surrounded by friends would have done them good.

She felt guilty. Had she used Kyle and Oliver as a way to avoid going to wake herself? Somehow that guilt didn’t fall into the pit inside of her, it floated around her mind, making her upset stomach even worse as they drove through the winding streets of their neighborhood.

She’d walked the road between her house and Caius’ countless times. Though, recently he had walked the distance more often. He wanted to get out, to be free of the oppressive sadness that hung over his family.

After his mother had died, Robin was the only person Caius could really turn to. His own grief and loss just added to the burden his father was carrying, so instead of sharing it with his family, he’d turned to his best friend.

They would sit in her bedroom, sometimes talking, more often not. He would cry and bury his head in her lap. She would run her hands through his hair and hold him close. Sometimes he would write, scribbling his small, cramped handwriting on to page after page in his notebooks. Robin never asked to see those stories as she did his others. She knew they were something he wrote just for himself, something he would have a hard time sharing, even with her.

Her mother pulled into their drive. Robin got out of the car the moment it came to a stop and walked quickly to the front door.

“Robin, will you be alright?” her mother asked, “I think I might make sure your father doesn’t need any help.”

“I’ll be fine mom.”

“I’ll stay here.” Daniel said, holding the front door open for Robin.

Her mother walked across the yard and put her hands on Robin’s shoulders. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you.”

Robin put her hands on top of her mother’s, squeezing them lightly. “It’ll be ok. I’m just going to take a shower and maybe a quick nap.”

“Alright honey.” Her eyes said that she didn’t really want to leave, but that she would respect her daughter’s wishes.

Daniel held the door open for his sister and followed her up the stairs. Robin walked into her room, with the intent of stripping off her black dress and climbing in the shower, but instead she found herself on the bed, still clothed, her arms wrapped around her blanket.

She wasn’t sure how long she laid there. She must have dozed because soon she was being roused by a disturbance on the bed. She opened her eyes to see Daniel climbing into the bed with her. He had changed into a jeans and green tee-shirt.

He pulled the blanket out of her arms and crawled up next to her. She reached out and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. He folded his hands so they pillowed under his head. She gave him a strong hug and inside her chest a small warmth blossomed. It stayed there, not falling into the emptiness as she fell back asleep.