PART TWENTY-FOUR | THE FUNERAL

I'll plant flowers beside your tomb. Let the rain water, let the soil nourish. Someday they'll bloom beautifully, accompanying you on a lonely night.

I picture myself standing in an aircraft. I have a vague idea of where I am heading. Maybe I don't even buy the flight ticket.

The aircraft is packed. All the seats are occupied with strangers. I keep wandering on the narrow hallway. I should be worrying about my seat in a normal circumstance, but I am pretty calm now. My eyes dart to a familiar man sitting near the window.

It is Dad. He wears a black shirt Mom ironed yesterday. I don't know how I am sure enough it was ironed yesterday. I call him from where I stand. He doesn't respond, as if he doesn't hear my voice.

Dad is focusing on the laptop in front of him. He loves working so much, maybe more than he loves me. That is why he chooses to travel instead of hanging out with me in the house.

I feel the aircraft is suddenly moving. There is no safety demonstration from the flight attendants. It just moves. I keep standing on my feet, staring at Dad. A rush of weird feelings attacks me. I feel sad, really sad. And I don't know why.

The aircraft starts shaking. Turbulence. Someone said it was normal during a flight. The aircraft passes through a cloud, they said. But it is not that kind of turbulence, it is a huge one. Someone said that we might not feel the aircraft was going down. But I feel it. I feel the aircraft is about to crash in a minute. A catastrophic crash.

Everything around me starts floating like in airspace. And I too feel weightless, probably, everyone in the aircraft feels the same way. Dad is not working on his laptop anymore. No. His laptop is thrown from his grip. On a normal occasion, I would be very happy that he is not too absorbed with his work. It's different now.

The aircraft banks sharply. It knocks Dad unconscious. I want to run toward him, shaking his shoulder. But I couldn't. I keep floating in my place. A big red suitcase, coming from nowhere, hits his head violently. I scream. But I couldn't even hear my own voice. I keep trying to scream, calling Dad. All I could hear is an explosion.

My eyes shot open. Chest rises and falls quickly. Sweat trickles down to my neck. It is just a dream. A nightmare.

*

People would associate the funeral with black. To me, it is more like a greyish color. As the sky hovering above us is grey, the tone of the air is grey, and my dad's grave is grey. I couldn't see Dad's face for the last time. Or kiss his temple.

His corpse was sent from Tanzania the next morning after Mom received the news. Fortunately, they could recognize his corpse. He arrived in the middle of the night on an airtight box. Mom screamed hysterically. She couldn't believe her beloved husband was leaving her without saying a proper goodbye. Oscar hugged her tight, whispering sweet things to her ear. But I could see tears were welling upon his eyes.

The accident was aired on several international news programs. Making us shut off our television for the rest of the day. Neighbors come to our house to show sympathy. The Yoshida family helped us the most. Miko was always by my side. She didn't let me sleep alone in my bedroom.

Julia and Candice came over in the afternoon. Showing me support by bringing a lot of sweet foods I loved. It was dreading time, waiting for my dad's dead body to arrive. They were helping me pass a hard time.

"TJ," Julia said. "Jeremy is on the porch."

I shook my head. "I couldn't meet him now, Juls. I am a mess." As much as I wanted to hug him so badly, I couldn't let him see me in my current state. Swollen eyes, pale face, and a croaky voice.

Julia talked to Jeremy for me. She came back to my room with a bouquet of sunflowers. There was no card or long-written letter. I looked out to my window, seeing him leaving my house with his black Mustang.

My mouth remains shut as a member of the clergy starts the ceremony on Dad's gravesite. Throat aching from a constant cry in my bedroom. I feel Emily's hand on mine, squeezing it lightly. She wears black sunglasses. Today, it is not for a disguise, but, to cover her beautiful swollen eyes. A combination of sleep-deprived and crying on the plane. Our appearance has always matched, even in our father's funeral.

I squeeze her hand back. The clergyman is saying something but I couldn't hear anything. His mouth moves, but there is no word I could comprehend. Perhaps, I am not that religious, or is it because the pain in my chest affects my hearing.

I shift my gaze from the clergyman to the people gathering around my Dad's grave. They're obediently wearing a black dress and a black suit. Honestly, I find it cool to wear a dress code without anyone asking them to. I love the simplicity.

I sense someone is staring at me on my left. There standing Jeremy with a white shirt beneath his black sweater. He looks astonishing as always, even at the funeral. Jeremy catches my eyes and smiles at me. It is a relief to see him smiling again. The last time we met, he was very distracted. I force myself to curve my lips into a smile. It ends up forming a thin line instead of a proper smile. At least, I try.

The ceremony is finished. I take a handful of soil, tossing it to the coffin, saying the last farewell to Dad. People start to move, my family holds a small gathering to have a meal with friends and family at my house. After that, everyone would be moving on with their life. And we have to.

I see Jeremy on the porch without his crutch. His ankle is already recovered from the surgery, I guess. He hugs Mom and says, "Diane said sorry she couldn't come." Then he pats Oscar's shoulder and nods to Emily. His eyes land on mine. He sweeps his lower lip with his tongue. "Hey," he greets.

"Hi," I reply. "Thanks for the sunflowers yesterday."

"Do you like it?" He asks. I nod. Jeremy grabs my hand and brings it to his lips. He pecks it gently. "I'm sorry for your loss, Tara-Jane."

I hug him. I couldn't help it any longer. His mint scent somehow relaxes me as usual. He wraps his arms around me, giving me a safe space. Protecting me from sadness. "Can we get out from here?" I speak to his chest.

He kisses the peak of my temple and says, "Sure, Tara-Jane. Everything you want."

We walk side by side to his car. "What did you eat this morning?" He asks. My eyes flicker to his.

"I didn't eat," I answer. My hand reaches for the seatbelt behind me. It gets stuck. I try to pull harder but it doesn't budge. Jeremy leans in, helping me with the seatbelt.

"Sorry, the car is old," he says.

I let out a tiny chuckle. "So, you're back," I say.

"What?"

"You're back to your old self. I didn't know you two days ago," I explain. I stare at him intensely, not breaking eye contact.

He blinks. "I'm a douchebag. Sorry, Tara-Jane," he says.

I shrug. "I thought I'd lose two people in my life," I say. Looking at my intertwined hands.

His head snaps to my direction. "No. I... I thought it was clear that I didn't want you to go that time," he says.

I look up at his eyes. "I didn't know. You didn't say anything. You seemed didn't want my companion," I say.

He shuts his eyes. Bringing his hands to cover his face. "It's clearly a misunderstanding between us," he says with a sad look on his eyes. The circle under his eyes is visible now. I just realize that.

"How many hours did you sleep?" I ask.

"I didn't sleep," he answers. "And I couldn't eat as well. I thought you were mad at me."

"We're such a mess," I state.

Jeremy starts the engine, we are leaving my house behind.

*

I feel my temple aching. Opening my eyes, I am in the car, but the driver seat is empty. I stroke the side of my temple, hoping the throbbing pain would go away. A wave sound slips from the half-open window catching my attention.

Jeremy sits on the bonnet of his car, smoking a cigarette. From my seat, he looks like a painting with a beautiful blue sky as the background. It is magical to see where the sky meets the sea. Endless. I stare at him for a while. Such a beautiful creature God has made.

Then as if he knows I am watching him, he looks at me. Jeremy smiles and pats the empty spot beside him. I get out of the car, closing the door slowly.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Embracing solitude," he answers with a grin. "Have a good sleep?"

I nod. "I'm sorry. You must be tired too," I say. Climbing on the bonnet, I sit next to him. The wind ruffles my hair, making it horribly messy. It feels really cold, even my coat doesn't provide more warmth.

"Oh," I groan when the wind keeps messing with my hair. Jeremy chuckles and extends his hand to remove the hair from my face. I take out the band inside my pocket to tie my hair.

"Give it to me," Jeremy says.

Confused, I give the band to him. It has a tiny ribbon on it. Seeing the band on his large hand is a peculiar sight. He scoots closer. I couldn't see his face but I imagine a serious expression painted on his face. His hands start to touch my hair, gathering the strands to tie it together. "Your hair is so soft like silk," he says.

I chuckle at his remark. "It sounds like an ad," I say. My head yanks a little from his pull, making a hiss escapes from my mouth. "Please, be gentle."

"I'm sorry it's not that easy, actually," he says with humor in his voice. I laugh but get a scold from him.

"It's difficult if you keep movin'," he says. "Okay, it's done. Perfect." His voice sounds content. Then he plants a kiss on the nape of my neck, where a glimpse of skin is visible. His warm breath tickles me.

I turn around to face him. Placing my hand on his chest, I ask, "How do you feel, Jer?"

"About what?"

"Football. Your ankle," I answer.

He lets out a nervous chuckle. "I don't know, Tara-Jane," he says. He looks like he has a lot in his mind. "It's weird. I used to play football."

I feel the rise and drop of his chest beneath my hand. "I believe that everything will be alright, Jer."

"Yeah," he says. "Eventually."

"Whatever happens, please, don't turn your back on me," I say. "Don't give up on me."

He looks at me in the eye. "No, Tara-Jane. I won't."

I tear my gaze, looking out to the sea. I suck my bottom lip to prevent it from quivering. "You'll be graduating soon and traveling to other continents. It must be different without you here," I say.

"Hey," he says. "Don't worry about that. I'll find a way to stay connected with you."

"I think you should use your phone again," I say.

"Yeah?" He looks at his cigarette on his hand. "I'll figure it out."

We keep silent for a moment. Then he asks, "Are you cold?"

"A bit," I answer.

"Here," he says while giving me his cigarette. "It keeps you warm."

"I have a better idea," I say. Leaning to capture his lips. My teeth purposely graze on his bottom lip. A moan slips from his mouth as I bite it gently. His hand sneaks under my shirt, thumbs stroking the line of my bra. Jeremy deepens the kiss until I lean back to the bonnet, making the alarm blaring uproariously.

"Fuck this car," he groans. But then we laugh along with the blaring alarm.

***
The song was written by Paul McCartney for Julian Lennon who felt really sad about his parent's divorce. Somehow, it sends shivers every time I listen to the song. This chapter is dedicated to you who is feeling sad. Refrain, don't carry the word upon your shoulder.
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