The Price of Grief

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Lillian”

I jumped back, slamming the bathroom door, without giving myself a second to look at the pitiful expression that fell across her face. My mom was not supposed to be home for another hour, but here she is on the other side of that door, as I am bent down in front of the toilet, with my lunch getting flushed down the drain.

“I feel sick”

Not a complete lie; I was sick with grief. I barely had an appetite for anything anymore. Not even when my mom made my favorite DiGiorno pizza or brought home a tub of ice-cream with a forced smile on her face. And my mother knew that. I opened the door; my face, red from embarrassment, as I scurried to my room, too ashamed to face her.

“You can’t keep doing this-” Those words echoed in my ears. Surely, she must have heard the late nights where I was throwing up the microwave dinner that she graciously heated up for me after getting home from her job to the grim lighting of our small apartment.

It was five in the morning, and she had just gotten off a long shift picking up garbage, which she insisted on doing after her sister said she needed money once again. My mother’s kind eyes never made anyone feel bad for burdening her. I was a burden too.

I laced up my high-top Converse and ran downstairs. My mom was downstairs staring out the window, while drinking her coffee filled with the creamers we had pocketed from various, unnamed diners. She looked as though she was about to say something, but I didn’t give her the chance.

I was already late, as usual, which means I had to take the shortcut that I dreaded. Not because it was swarmed with beggars at bus stops, or sketchy convenience stores, but because it was the exact opposite. White picket fences, wives bidding their husbands farewell with a baby on their hip, landscapers that trimmed the homeowners’ grass before the sun could make its way past the mountains in the distance. Honestly, I would have preferred being asked for spare change than to witness the desperation of the filthy rich that lived on Aspera Lane.

I only knew one person who lived on this street. Hailey Kepner. She had the type of beauty that men would have started wars over. Every boy wanted to be with her, and every girl wanted to be her, the type of girl who you would think only existed in a 90’s Romcom. I hated her for it. The way her long blonde hair comfortably rested on her shoulders, usually accompanied by a different color hairband. Her flawless skin never broke a sweat. The thing I hated most of all was the way she effortlessly carried conversations. She spoke with grace and compassion, and people praised her for it. They practically kissed the ground she walked on.

I didn’t always feel this way.

Hailey’s father owned Kepner Tech, an empire that her family had been running for generations; a pioneer in technology. My father used to be his head of security, so naturally, as girls, Hailey and I spent summers together roaming the halls, learning everything there was to know about one another.

Hailey’s father was always cold, especially to his daughter, but as a businessman, he had to be. My father always respected him for it and would rave about how intelligent and calculated he was.

“A beast in the sales world.” He used to say, with a huge grin on his face.

My father was compassionate, funny, and carefree. He often took Hailey and I to parks, always would find new places to eat and would be there for every recital, every soccer game, every minor accomplishment. Hailey was always faster, a better singer, and had better grades than me. Sometimes I thought my dad was prouder of her, since I barely got away with being painfully average at everything. However, I didn’t mind sharing my dad with Hailey because she was my best friend; my soulmate.

I still remember that day in eighth grade. Hailey and I were laughing away in Drama class, as we usually did, never taking the assignment seriously, as well as ignoring the warning glances of our strict, artsy teacher.

I remember the counselor knocking on the door and pulling aside our teacher as they exchange words and occasionally glanced over at me, and then Hailey. They quietly motioned us over and then separated us into different rooms. I recall the last look of worry and confusion we gave to one another. While also wearing a look that reminded each other that everything will be okay, no matter what.

“Lillian, there was an accident this morning at Kepner Tech. Unfortunately, your father did not make it. Your mother is waiting for you in the front office.”

I stared at her blankly, not noticing the tears that streamed down my stoic face.

There’s a mistake.

I heard the radio that echoed in the back of her office.

“This morning, there was a robbery attempt at Kepner Tech. We have been told that the suspects are contained thanks to the Head of Security, James Toretto. Unfortunately, he did not make it due to the injuries he sustained taking a bullet for CEO Kent Kepner, before downing the suspects. He will forever be remembered as a hero. James was a husband and a father, loved by many. Our prayers are with his loved ones during this time.”

I fell to my knees. I screamed a primal scream. So loud that teachers ran out of their classroom to assess the situation, students that were late to class froze in place. My mother must have recognized my scream because I watched her fly past the school security, running towards me, scooping me up into her arms and walking out the door, without a word. I didn’t care that I may have been too heavy for her as her knees gave in a couple of times on the way to the car, or that she had just lost her husband. My body felt completely numb, succumbing to my emotions and unfathomable truth.

My father was dead.

The funeral was a blur. A whole bunch of random people went up to me with pity in their eyes as they shook my hand or placed flowers next my father's coffin.

Who are these people. They don’t know him.

My mind was elsewhere for most of the service; my eyes staring at my dirty converse that I dared someone to mention. When suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. Although her voice was almost unrecognizable with fear, I knew it was Hailey. She was a ball of emotions, she talked about the different foods we would try, the stories we would tell, she even mentioned how he would snort when he laughed, letting a smile escape from her flawless face. I could feel Hailey’s stare on the top of my head from the stage, but I refused to look up from my shoes.

After the final prayer, everyone began to huddle out of the church. I looked up at my mom and noticed her mascara was running so I silently wiped it away for her as she looked at me with pained eyes. I realized this was the first time I had ever seen my mom cry. We were the last to leave, as I followed my mom out of the church I heard someone call my name.

“Lillian”

Hailey.

I turned around, still refusing to look at her in the eye.

“Lillian. I am so sorry, I can’t imagine what -”

“No, you can't.” I interrupted, holding back the stream of tears that were desperately searching for an escape.

“I loved him too, Lillian. He was like a father to me, I-”

“He was not your father. He was MINE. Do you really think he died for your father? No. He died for you Hailey. Because unlike your father, mine had a heart and wouldn’t have been able to live with the guilt of knowing he was there when your dad died.” I paused, and continued again,

“All of my memories with my father are shared with you, and I used to love that. But now, whenever I see you, I am just reminded of what I am missing out on because of YOU. He can’t walk me down the aisle, he can’t watch me walk the stage, he can’t even kiss me on the forehead as he heads off to work anymore. All because your pathetic excuse of a father used the best man I know as a human shield.” I was choking on my words so much that I did not even realize the tears and utter betrayal that wiped over Hailey’s face.

All Hailey said was “I’m sorry”, barely loud enough for me to hear, and brushed past me, and out of the church.

That was the last time we talked.

I kept riding my bike, and before I knew it I was in front Hailey’s house, I slowed down, letting myself think of the what ifs. It was the largest house on the block, with brick columns, even its own driveway with a fountain as the center piece. The shrubs were intricately designed and glistening in the morning sun as the sprinklers misted the greenery. It was gaudier than I had remembered.

How pretentious.

This was the first time I had biked past her house since my dad died. I went the whole summer alone, grieving, stalking the socials of Hailey as she ventured to Europe and tropical islands with her new friends that replaced me with ease at the end of last year. Trips she promised to take me on. Trips we would dream about, hand in hand on the swings, or scrapbook, coating the pages in cutouts of places and the outfits we would wear.

How dare she say she loved him like a father but did not grieve him like his daughter.

I was so lost in thought, I didn’t notice Hailey walking out of the house with her hair in perfect curls and one of the outfits from our scrapbook, “High School”. I also did not notice the mailbox in front of me as it slammed into me, making me fly under, and skid a couple feet onto the asphalt. I just laid there, and let out a groan of annoyance and then, pain.

I could hear Hailey’s gasp as she was halfway in her ride, getting in as her chauffer generously opened her door.

Please don’t come over here.

I heard her small, hurried steps in her heels, as she rushed down the driveway, preparing to be a Good Samaritan.

I turned my head away and quickly got up, hoping she wouldn’t recognize me. I couldn’t face her after she betrayed me this summer, not once checking up on me. I couldn’t face her after what I said to her that day.

I could feel the burn on my back from the asphalt, and the blood that was now making my once white shirt stick to my bony back.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” I could hear Lillian calling from the distance, her voice slowly getting closer.

With my head still turned, I put up a thumbs up and attempted to bike again, but my Converse laces were now tied up into the chain of my bike.

Great.

“Wait...Lillian?” I ignored her. “Lillian, I know that's you. I don’t know anyone else who where's Converse anymore.” She let out a kind laugh. I wanted to laugh, too. Her laugh warmed my soul, and I still yearned for her friendship, even after everything.

But what I said on the day of the funeral was not completely wrong. She did remind me of him. Not because of the shared memories, I began to realize, but because of her undeniable good heart. The way she snorted when she laughed, and how she always wanted to try new things. I hated her because I am nothing like my father was. I am dry and cold, and I can’t remember the last time I laughed, or even smiled.

I finally turned around, a dirty, bloody mess. Hailey was as beautiful as ever.

I had so many things to say. An apology, I wanted to tell her that I was hurting, I wanted to tell her I needed help. But my pride got the better of me and all I could make out was,

“I’m fine.”

Hailey took a good look at me and rolled her eyes.

“Come inside Lillian, you look awful.”

I looked awful; she was right. It was the first day of high school, and I had tangled, unbound hair, and the plainest outfit I could have put on. I used to care about these things but now, everything else was so much bigger than that.

I silently followed her, like she was my siren song, I soaked in the familiar smell of vanilla and her rose water shampoo as I walked up the ridiculous number of steps, every step feeling steeper than the last.

I already knew my way around the vast hallways of her house. Not a house, her mansion. All the memories of chasing each other around or stealing her mother’s feather robe and pretending like we were princesses running through a castle towards our long-awaited prince charming.

I followed her up to her room, that was practically the whole second floor making sure not to touch anything. Her room was exactly as I remember it. White furniture, with tasteful pink accents, her massive closet that usually had clothes scattered about and her massive bathroom with counters cluttered with beauty products. It was safe to say that her room was as big as my mom and I’s apartment. We had to downsize after my father passed. We didn't need all of that space anyway.

She stayed silent as she handed me a towel, knowing I knew where her bathroom was.

“I’m sorry to make you late.” I spoke.

“I wanted to be fashionably late anyway.” She quipped, smiling at me, but with sadness in her eyes.

I cleaned up, enjoying the bougee shower pressure and luxury soap. She still had the bag I brought for when I would come over right under her sink. Once I dried off, I stepped outside, stopping as I saw the outfit she laid out for me on her bed. It was the outfit from the scrapbook we had made, mapping out our first year of high school. A teal blouse with a jean skirt my mom would not have let me leave the house in, paired with brand new white converse.

She still got this for me after everything I said to her. Things I said because I knew it would push her away.

I was fixing to say something, but she beat me to it.

“I grieved your father, Lilly. But I grieved you more. I loved James very much, but you have been the truest love I have ever known. You were my best friend, and I have been living with the guilt of not being there for you, and I am so sorry. Instead of talking to you, I ignored it because I lost you and your dad at the same time. It was too much for me, so I distracted myself from new people and new places. I wanted you to be there every second. I just didn’t think you wanted to see me” She stopped, fighting back tears.

“No.” I interrupted. “I’m sorry Hailey. I should have never said anything about that. I should have never carried this much resentment in my heart, and I was always too prideful to make amends. Hailey- these past few months...” My voice cut out and I just began to cry.

“I know, Lils, I know.” She said as she combed through my hair. I knew she was crying, too.

I felt so safe at that moment, knowing I was reunited with my best friend. My sister. This was the conversation I had needed this whole time to pay the price of my grief.

Once I got home from school, Hailey helped me bring up my broken bike and I found my mom in the kitchen washing the dishes. I realize she had taken off work, and she looked at me with worry. I realized I had not seen her faulter once as she mourned her husband, and she deserved to. I went up to her and just hugged her. I could tell she had wanted this for a long time. I could feel her look up and lock eyes with Hailey, and they smiled.

“You’re going to be okay, Lilly.”

In that moment, with the two people I loved most, I finally felt like that could be true.