Chapter Text
“My father was a great man,” Elizabeth said to the gathered crowd. “I know that everyone says that about the recently deceased, but — for once — I’m not exaggerating. He dedicated his life to helping other people, from his EMT work to the way he raised me and my brother. Every single ounce of his time and energy went into other people, and he was loved dearly for that. I’m sure that’s why a lot of you are here today...” She continued on for a few more minutes, managing to hold it together until the end of the eulogy. It was an odd feeling, speaking semi-objectively about someone who had impacted her life so much. Eliza wasn’t saying anything new. Everyone in attendance already knew what kind of person her father was. It was simply a formality. A nice way of getting everyone on the same page before they all went home and grieved separately.
At the end of the ceremony, Eliza accepted all of the kind words and cautious handshakes graciously. She didn’t want to be here. Granted, no one wanted to be here, but it was a social requirement to show up to a funeral. Especially if you were the child of the deceased. As a child of the deceased, everyone wanted to talk to you, for better or for worse. While she didn’t normally mind attention, Eliza could feel the stares of some of the more judgmental attendees. She had tried to tone it down out of respect for the dead — she really had. She had even worn a black dress without any patterns on it. True, her black tights were sparkly, and her hair was bright green, but she had been focusing more on staying together mentally than re-dying her hair back to its natural brown hue.
She had forced herself not to cry in front of everyone, although the fuzziness brought on by the pure exhaustion of the past week probably helped dull her emotions. Losing her father was one battle, but having to plan the funeral was a completely different challenge. Who knew so many people cared about what Dad’s casket looked like? He had mentioned while he was alive that he honestly wouldn’t have cared if they threw his naked corpse into a landfill.
The funeral director did not find that joke nearly as entertaining as Eliza and her dad had.
What Eliza really wanted to do now was turn off her feelings. She didn’t want to sit with these emotions any longer than she needed to. The funeral planning was almost a blessing in disguise; it allowed her to look at her father’s death with a clinical edge. Instead of worrying over the fact that he might’ve been scared before he died, she could busy herself with choosing wraps over finger sandwiches. Instead of thinking about the fact that she’d never see his big smile again, she could focus on red tie versus blue tie (not that it really mattered; it was a closed casket). Distraction was the key, she found, to sanity. Whether it was the good kind (knitting, learning another language, helping a neighbor with yard work) or the not-so-good kind (hooking up with an ex, impulse buying, three too many glasses of scotch at night), it helped with the grief. Eliza was guilty of all of these. It probably wasn’t the most healthy coping mechanism, but hiding her sadness felt better than dealing with it.
So she honestly didn’t understand how Cal could just sit there, quietly studying the casket, and not lose his mind. The black-clad funeral-goers had mostly cleared out, and Eliza had managed to break away from a group of tearful older women. She sat down next to her brother in the first pew of the Anglican church Eliza had decided to use. “Hey,” she said quietly, studying him.
He’d changed a lot since her last visit, and she couldn’t tell if it was because of time or grief. She decided on both. His dark brown hair was a little longer than the buzz he’d previously sported. He had obviously tried to comb it for the formal occasion, but it wasn’t long enough to actually do anything with. Cal still had all of his piercings in, despite their dad’s playful predictions that he’d get tired of them and just end up with ears that looked like Swiss cheese. And he looked... older. He’d always been mature for his age, and a lot of people assumed he was already in university, despite his height. But something had shifted in him, and an undefinable flicker in his black eyes was different. He looked tired, but to Eliza’s surprise, he didn’t look defeated. Eliza hoped she exuded the same kind of confidence he did, but she wasn’t stupid enough to think that that was the case.
“Hey, yourself,” he responded, glancing at her with a sad smile.
She took his hand, gently running her thumb along his knuckles. It was a good feeling, a comforting feeling, for both of them. Solid. Tangible. A physical way to show that they were there for each other. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and one trickled down her cheek before she could stop it. She took a shaky breath and let out a wheezy, heartbreaking laugh before swiping the tear away. “I’m kicking myself for not wearing polka dots. I feel like I’m in someone else’s skin.”
“I noticed you were a lot more muted,” he responded, leaning his head against her shoulder. Normally, she would’ve teased him about how all of his ear piercings were going to draw blood, but for once in her life, she didn’t feel like joking all that much.
“Felt like it was appropriate.”
“Dad wouldn’t’ve cared.”
She smiled sadly, squeezing his hand and forcing a playful lilt to her voice. “Maybe I just wanted to match you, Poe.”
He didn’t respond; he just intertwined their fingers. Eliza closed her eyes and leaned her head against his. This wasn’t fair to him. Cal needed someone. She had entered university six years ago, leaving her brother with their father. Sure, they saw each other during the holidays, but that wasn’t the same as experiencing life with him. Now, they were reunited under the worst possible circumstances. It wasn’t good that he was alone. Sure, he had told her about his friends who had been helping him. A girl named Lydia had lost her mom a few years ago, and it comforted Eliza to know that Cal had friends who understood him and would talk with him. But he needed family.
She felt so stupid for not noticing earlier. For not being there. Their dad had been dead for a week, and all she had done was plan the funeral and sleep with her ex and down too many bottles of wine. The woman took another shaky breath. She needed family, too. Eliza kissed the freckle above Callum’s left eyebrow and squeezed his hand again.
They needed each other.