Chapter Seven
Harrison
Caroline sat next to me, barely able to control her emotions as the service went on. I knew that she might have been a tad bit more emotional than I, especially when I saw how she reacted walking down the aisle. That was alright, though. I knew their bond was strong ever since they became friends in kindergarten. Sarah would always come home and tell me about her best friend, Caroline. I thought it would be a good idea to culture that friendship, especially since she didn’t have family around, so I kept her in the same school district with Caroline.
Even when we moved further away, Caroline’s parents allowed me to use their address so that she could stay enrolled at the same school. I didn’t build a strong friendship with her parents because I kept to myself, but her relationship with Sarah flourished. As they grew, Sarah had gotten Caroline into trouble a few times because of how outgoing she was. My daughter was a risk-taker. She would take chances and then apologize later if things got out of hand. That’s the way she lived her life, and it was something that I garnered from her as we both grew.
As the minister went forth with the eulogy, I kept a brazen look on my face. I kept telling myself that my daughter was no longer in the casket and now, she lived in my heart. That was the only way I could cope with the amount of emotion that traveled through the building like strong hurricane winds. From the corner of my eyes, I could see Caroline glance at me from time to time. Every now and then, we would make eye contact, and the emptiness that Sarah left in both of our souls would connect.
It was an awkward warmth that flowed through my veins like heroin, pricking my senses in places that have never been felt until now. She reached across my lap and slipped her hand into mine. I looked down, watching her fingers slowly interlock with mine. It took me a few moments to embrace her show of comfort, but I finally allowed my hand to contract around hers. She was there for support, and right now, we were two crutches helping one person walk through life, leaning on each other for assistance when we felt too weak to carry on.
As the minister finished the service for my daughter, we traveled to the gravesite together. Caroline objected to my offer at first, but after a little encouragement, she decided to come along. The car ride was quiet as we both dealt with our loss in different ways. Tears streamed from her eyes like a river. She reached into her purse for Kleenex, and once I saw that she was out, I grabbed the box that sat next to me in the back seat.
“Here,” I said, extending the box towards her.
She smiled as much as her pain would allow. “Thank you, Mr. Zimmer. I just… I can’t stop crying, and I don’t know if that is a good thing or a bad thing.”
I scooted closer to her. “It’s alright, Caroline. And please, just call me Harrison. ‘Mr. Zimmer’ makes me feel like I am much older than I care to be.”
“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Zim–, um, I mean, Harrison. I just wanted to be respectful.”
“It’s fine. I understand.”
She wiped her eyes, then took a deep breath to calm herself down. “I don’t know how you do it. Like, I’m sitting here bawling like a baby, and I haven’t seen you drop one tear since the funeral started. I wish I could be as strong as you, but I can’t.” She dipped her face into her hands like they were a washbowl. “That was my sister. The only sister I had, and now, she is gone. She is gone.”
I put my arm around her and patted her on her shoulder. “Yeah, I understand. I am breaking apart inside, and I know that one of these days, I will cry and I will cry a lot. Right now, though, it doesn’t seem real to me. Things seem incomplete, and I don’t know. I guess my brain just hasn’t processed the truth yet.”
“Yeah,” she wiped her eyes again as we drew closer to the graveyard. “I had that same issue this morning. I thought if I didn’t show up that everything would just go away. Like, I would wake up from this horrible nightmare with Sarah standing over me, ready to douse me with water like she always did.” She smiled as if recalling the times that my daughter woke her up with a prank.
“Yup, that was my Sarah. Always joking around and whatnot. I’ll miss that. I will miss that a lot.”
We rode in silence for the rest of the journey with my arm around her shoulders. I didn’t feel as though she was my daughter. I felt as though that she was a friend helping me through a tough time. We arrived at the gravesite as the clouds above remained thick, but the rain stopped just as we did. “Well,” I said, “this is the last part of the mountain to climb. The rest is downhill from here. Are you ready?”
She wiped her eyes again and stifled her cries long enough to answer me with a clear voice. “Yes.”
I opened the door for her, and we walked to the burial site. The minister said the last words as we waited, and before long, they lowered her casket into the grave. Caroline tucked her head into my chest and cried out loud as she went further into the ground. I put my hand on the back of her head. “Shhh, it’s going to be alright. It’s going to be alright.”
I hoped it would, but I didn’t want to imagine how I was going to react once the reality sunk into my mind. After the service, I could see her friend waiting for her near the back of the crowd. When I looked back at her, she apologized. “I’m sorry for crying on your shoulder so much, but, I just want to thank you for being there for me. I’m not sure how I would’ve made it if I didn’t have a shoulder to cry on.”
“We all need that from time to time. I’m just sorry that we both had to go through this. I didn’t expect to bury her. I expected her to bury me.” She exhaled. Her breath fluttered into the air like a spirit before it disappeared before my eyes. “I just have to figure out how I am going to clean out her room. I mean, I know how to do it, but…” I looked away from her. “I don’t know.”
“I can help you. I mean, if you need help. Not saying that you do, but… you know… just in case you need that shoulder there. I can be that for you. I feel like I owe you.”
“No, you don’t owe me. You don’t owe me a thing, but I wouldn’t mind the help if you have the time. I don’t know when I am going to do it, but I guess when I build up the courage, I will go ahead and get it done.”
She quickly grabbed her phone out of her purse, “Anytime. Anytime you are ready, just call me. What is your number? I’ll call you now just so you have it.” I gave her my number as her friend waited by himself just beyond where we stood. “Alright. Now, we have each other’s number. Whenever you are ready, just call me. Or, even if you need to talk or something. I don’t know, you don’t seem like the type who would call someone just to talk, but I just wanted you to know that I am here for you, Harrison. Anytime you need me.”
I knew that she was just being friendly because of the situation we found ourselves in together, but I couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. Yes, she was attractive, but there was something else to it, and right then, I couldn’t tell if it was my vulnerability. The fact that she was so close to my daughter that it made me feel like a part of her was still here. Maybe it was none of that at all. Either way, there was a flicker between us, and right now, I couldn’t explain it.
“Alright. I will give you a call once I get ready. You take care of yourself, Caroline.”
“You too, Harrison.”
She scooted in closer for a hug, and as we embraced, I kissed the top of her head. Her embrace tightened as we stood alone near the burial site. A brisk wind blew against our bodies and sent her hair fluttering in the breeze as if it were waving goodbye. As it fluttered, I caught eye contact with her friend. He stood in the back with his arms folded across his chest, and at that moment, I realized we held each other much longer than I anticipated.
I released her, and she had the same dazed look on her face that I imagined mirrored mine. “Um,” she sputtered out, “call me. If you need to.”
“I will.”
I watched her walk away, holding her elbows in each hand, as her friend waited for her to approach him. He put his arm around her, and the both of them walked to his car. I watched them get inside and drive away down the winding path until the exited the graveyard. A few more people spoke their condolences to me as I stood near the grave plot. I was the last one to leave, and even then, I still did not shed a tear.