If Only You'd Stay

WeStanSally

She/her

If Only You'd Stay

Sally's funeral home, featuring older Estelle.

Content Warning: Sally died (character death), so grief and all that, but it's not that sad. Plus some anxiety and self-annoyance I am projecting on Estelle because we don't know much of her.

Leo's mother died in a fire. Frank's died fighting. And now? Now, Sally Jackson had drowned.

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If she was being honest, Estelle hadn't been prepared for her mom to die. Yes, Sally had breast cancer, but from what the doctors said, she was still expected to have a few more years left to live. Paul and her even moved to Canada to get less expensive health care. And yet, for some unknown reason, the fates seemed determined not to let her live another year. Or at least, it was easier to blame them.

Three weeks ago, Estelle had received a phone call from her dad. It was a Monday, she remembered, which was the first real sign that something was wrong: their weekly calls were scheduled on Fridays, and Fridays only. This helped her cope with the anxiety video calls still gave her sometimes.

The second sign that something wasn't right was Paul's red eyes and the dried tears on his cheeks. The last time she'd seen him cry, they'd found out Sally had cancer. Needless to say, this wasn't heading anywhere good.

Sure enough, Paul had then proceeded to explain how, while hiking near the Saint Lawrence River (which he called by its French name, fleuve Saint-Laurent), her mother had tripped, fallen a few meters down into the water and, heavied down by her winter clothes, frozen by the ice-cold water, weakened by age and cancer, failed to come back up. It took him quite a while, because he kept getting emotional. His daughter didn't know how to comfort him.

Throughout Paul's story, Estelle had simply suppressed a pained smile. She would've cried, should've cried, she knew, but her shock reaction, as she liked to call it, had always been to smile, and so, once she hung up, her eyes were still perfectly dry.

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As much as Estelle did NOT want to go to Sally's funeral home and consequently face the fact that her mother was very much dead, she couldn't wait to see Percy, Paul, Annabeth and everyone else. Percy and Annabeth had moved to Canada with Paul and Sally to stay close to them. The relatively low-priced (but still good) education system probably didn't hurt either.

Estelle, however, chose to stay in New-York for college. That meant an eight hours long bus ride every time she wanted to visit her family. Not that it wasn't worth it, of course.

It was early July and even in Canada, it would be very hot. In the space of a few months, the temperature could easily go from -30℃ to 35℃. Canadians were weird in the systems of measurement they used. ℃ for air temperature, but ℉ for water temperature? But whatever.

It had been three months already since, well, her cremation. (Don't think about it, Estelle. You can't think about it.) Summer vacation had been going on for around a month and a half already, but the girl had yet to see her brother and his family. As much as she loved him and their parents (as well as Annabeth, obviously), arranging the trip to Paul and Sally's small house made her extremely anxious, so she always put it off for as long as possible. No way she'd miss her mom's funeral home, though, so there she was, with her small suitcase and extremely heavy bag (which she still worried didn't have everything in them), on the way to her parents' relatively new home Sally had been the one to find. It would be missing the wonderful smell of her mother's exquisite cooking. But Estelle couldn't let herself think about that.

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"Estelle! Over here!" was what greeted the young woman as soon as she stepped off the bus and onto the muddy ground of the uneven campaign route, triple-checking she had everything with her.

Sam, her niece, was running towards her not like she was on fire, since her smile was as bright as Apollo's sun chariot and it was pouring anyway, but like she was almost at the finish line of the national cross-country. It didn't take long before she was right in front of Estelle, trying to catch her breath while simultaneously telling her aunt (who was young enough to be her cousin, really) all about her new friends, her school, that one teacher that waited eight months before giving exams back (which prompted Estelle to give an anecdote of her own), and so on. Both of them were right in their element.

Percy and Annabeth were there soon as well, of course, but they were observing the scene silently, not wanting to interrupt the girls. Estelle took notice of this and once she felt pausing the conversation wouldn't hurt Sam's feelings, she turned to her brother and hugged him tightly before moving on to Annabeth. Neither were wet from the rain the way Sam and Estelle were, something she immediately attributed to Percy and his son-of-Poseidon powers.

Estelle opened her rainbow umbrella with some difficulty (it was old), something she should've done earlier,holding it with her right hand while she offered her left to Sam. Together, the small group (Like, four is a group, she heard Tao Xu's voice in her head. Three is just.. a trio.) made its way to the Chase-Jackson car, all the while talking about this and that, things that happened since they'd last talked on the phone. However, like an unspoken agreement, no one mentioned Sally. The sky was thundering, anyway (what the Helheim, Zeus!?): the time wasn't right for acknowledging the absence of such a ray of sunshine, Estelle thought.

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"Turn right at the next intersection," she instructed her dad. Why must she be the copilot? What if she gave the wrong direction and they ended up being late to the funeral home? Or worse, what if they got lost and missed the event completely?

Don't think about it, she reminded herself. Stay focused.

She kept relaying what the GPS told her, occasionally staring out the window at the bright sun, trying to ignore the pain in her stomach. She was suddenly very angry, angry at the four winds and everything else that made it so cold the day her mother died. If the water had been warmer and she hadn't been wearing snow boots and a huge winter coat, could she still be alive right then?

Stop it. You're making yourself think that. Your life is great, Percy and Annabeth and everyone else have it so much worse. You're inventing yourself problems just to feel special, a voice in her head said. The one she gave to guilt about her feelings.

Shut up, she answered. My mom died. I'm allowed to feel bad about it. I'm not even of drinking age in the US yet. Though she was in Canada.

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The chatter from room #5 on the second floor, which, according to Percy, was theirs for the day, was much louder than Estelle expected, though she hadn't even realized she was expecting anything. It felt like dozens of people were talking at the same time. Aren't mourning people supposed to be quieter? Paul certainly hadn't talked much since welcoming her in the home he was now the only one to live in.

When she finally reached the wide open door, she realized why it was so loud in there. There were dozens upon dozens of people in the room. Thankfully, Annabeth and Percy, who were in charge of organizing the ceremony since Paul was too emotionally unstable and Estelle flat-out refused, must have known there would be an awful number of guests, because the place was huge as well. It could probably contain her whole apartment and still have some more room. It was incredible how many people came to a simple mortal's funeral home. But Sally wasn't so simple, was she?

There weren't just mortals and demigods (and legacies) in the crowd. Sure, Paul and her were there, and she spotted Percy, Annabeth and Sam somewhere near a table on her right, but tħere were a lot of other people too, as stated earlier. Percy and Annabeth's friends, obviously, for starters. Some probably only came as moral support, but plenty of them knew Sally too. There was Grover, Meg, Nico, Reyna and Thalia, the rest of the Seven (Piper, Hazel, Frank and Leo), Calypso, Will, the Stolls even. Some were new mortal neighbors. Many she didn't even know. Paul and Sally's friends also formed a good part of the crowd.

Then, then there were Gods. Apollo, whom she knew quite well by the time she was eight, was the easiest to spot. She could probably recognize him in any disguise. He just has this air about him... It was probably better not to dwell on it. She'd be there for hours.

Hestia was there too, surprisingly. Estelle loved her; she was probably her favorite goddess out of all of them (but don't tell the others that). However, she couldn't fathom why Hestia would be there. Maybe Sally was just that great. Probably.

Artemis may have been there, among her Hunters, but Estelle was still standing in the doorframe (though Paul had gone to see Percy already), so she couldn't spot her. The room also had this salty scent which told her Poseidon may have made an appearance at some point, but it was impossible to be sure. Percy also smelled like that sometimes.

Estelle was shaken out of her daze when Annabeth's cousin, whom she saw on occasion at Percy and Annabeth's awkwardly cleared his throat. "I, um, well, hi Estelle, er–"

Alex was quick to cut him off. "You're standing in the doorway, sorry," Alex completed. Magnus smiled apologetically.

"Oh, um, yeah! Sorry," Estelle apologized, moving out of the way. They followed her.

Magnus stopped and turned to face her. "I'd say sorry for your loss, but that won't really help, I think." He laughed bitterly. "Welcome to the dead mom club!" the einherji threw his hands in the air. He and Alex looked younger than her now. It felt weird.

She smiled a little. "Yeah. Thanks."

They talked for a while, but then Alex said he (for he was a guy at the moment, she learned during their conversation) wanted to go greet Annabeth and Percy, so they parted ways and Estelle got to look at the room itself for real this time.

The only furniture in the room consisted of tables and chairs. The chairs were mostly against the wall that was on her left when she came in. Some children were sitting there. Most people were standing in the middle of the room, chatting with a friend, reconnecting with an old acquaintance, hugging a cousin, a friend, a partner...

The tables stood against every wall, circling the room except for the place occupied by the chairs. Each and every table except for the buffet table was littered with small trinkets, pictures, and various other items in memory of her mom. She decided to go round the room and have a look at them like a few others were doing, and maybe stop to talk to some people along the way. Not too many, or she would get tired too quickly, and only people she knew well because it was easier, but some.

Since she had turned right immediately after leaving the door frame, Estelle chose to start her tour there. She greeted Piper, who was busy inspecting the pictures of baby Sally one by one. They were cute, of course, but it was weird to see her mom like that, so she moved on to the next table.

This one was also filled with pictures, but they were all of Sally with Baby PercyTM, so those were fun. Sally looked happy there, even if Percy wasn't the easiest child.

The table on its left was the last one with pictures on it. They were of Paul and Sally, of Percy and of her. The most recent one was of Paul and Sally hiking. The selfie was taken on that day. Estelle was quick to move on.

The fourth table was entirely dedicated to Sally's school accomplishments, the fifth to her books, the two bestsellers in the middle. And on it went, table after table, family members after friends, until she reached the main table, with the funeral urn on it. Estelle wasn't sure how to feel about it.

Percy was staring at the urn.

"Hey," Estelle whispered, moving to stand to his right. Whereas the rest of the room was so loud you couldn't hear a gunshot, that particular corner felt different, like if you spoke too loud you would disturb Sally's soul. "Where's Annabeth?" she asked. Normally, they would be comforting each other. Both were way too used to death.

"She went to check on Sam," her brother answered. She strained to hear him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They were silent for a while until Estelle got too irritated and she couldn't bear it anymore.

"How are you feeling, Percy?" Saying someone's name makes it more personal.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, like a fish. "I just–" He sighed and looked down at his feet. Estelle followed his gaze and was met with the sight of white baskets on a purple carpeted floor. Apart from the carpet, it wasn't anything special. "If I'd been there that day," he continued, "I could have helped her. I could have saved her." Percy looked up enough to lock eyes with Estelle. His were filled with tears, hers were dry as always. "We wouldn't be here today. She'd still be alive." His voice broke on the last word.

"Percy, this is not your fault, you hear me?" Maybe he hadn't, her voice was so soft. "It isn't."

And then she hugged him. She took in his scent: definitely saltwater today. It was familiar and comforting. She may not smell like anything in particular, but she hoped the hug could still help Percy.

She thought it might have, because when he finally pulled away, he was no longer crying and a small smile adorned his face.

"Thanks," he said, although her words probably didn't help that much. Maybe he was talking about the hug. "See you at dad's tonight."

"See you," she answered, and she was alone again.

Her mom's urn wasn't anything special. It certainly wasn't as grand as the woman herself, but maybe that was what made it so appropriate. Sally was a modest person. A too expensive urn wouldn't have suited her. Paul had made a good choice, she must admit.

The brass urn did not have much decoration apart from a greek-ish looking motif at the bottom that seemed to be made with gold. A metal plate in the middle identified the ashes the urn contained as Sally's:

SALLY JACKSON

1970 - 2028

Beloved mother, wife, and friend

"I cannot do all the good that the world needs. But the world needs all the good that I can do." – Jana Stanfield

Estelle just stared and stared until her eyes hurt from looking at the shiny inscription illuminated by the sun through the huge windows. For once, she could feel her eyes well up with unshed tears. One escaped down her cheek.

Oh, mom, she thought. If only you would stay with me.

But she couldn't, could she?

Sally Jackson was, indeed, dead.

Another tear rolled down to her chin, then another and another, until she was full on sobbing in front of her mother's funeral urn. And then it stopped, and she was so, so angry at the fates for deciding that Sally had lived old enough. But she couldn't do anything. She couldn't.

Still, she thought to herself one last time: If only you'd stay.

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