It's the perfect early summer day. Birds are fluttering from branch to branch, the sun is bright and warm, there's a slight breeze that brushes Stacie's hair away from her face every once in a while. It couldn't be any more perfect for a fourteen-year-old who just got released from school for the summer. The only reason why it isn't, is amplified by the fact that the only person Stacie really wants to see and talk to is being lowered into the ground in front of her.
They had been ready for it, of course. Cancer does that; prepares the family for a long, drawn-out death that eventually feels more like a relief than a curse. Her father isn't in any more pain, and for that she's grateful. She's grateful, even, that she actually had a chance to say goodbye to him. That doesn't mean she's grateful for the aching hole in her chest that was once filled by her father's love. And she is sure she could never be ready to live a life without her father in it.
Stacie holds her tears in, determined to stay strong for her mother and her little sister. She can tell, just by a glance out of the corner of her eye, that her mother is starting to fall apart. Determined to stay strong and together for her, Stacie squeezes her mother's hand in comfort.
Andie is another story. She doesn't understand what is happening. She's too young to realize that she will never see her father again. She is only old enough to be able to tell that everyone around her is sad, so she should be too. And Stacie tries to comfort the inconsolable three-year-old, she does. But with every squirm and every shriek that escapes the child's mouth she can feel her frustration building. It isn't enough that she's hurting and her mom is hurting, it almost seems to Stacie like Andie is trying to make everyone more miserable than they already are. And Stacie can understand, of course. She'd like to be anywhere else, anytime else, than here. She doesn't want to watch as they lower her dad – the person who was always on her side – into the ground. But she has to. It's expected, and it's her last chance to see him in the sunlight.
The wind blows again, ruffling the black dress around Stacie's knobby knees. The wind blows with it a butterfly, which of course, catches Andie's attention with its bright orange colors.
Stacie flinches as Andie lets loose a particularly loud shriek, followed by an enthusiastic, "Flutter!"
Stacie only has time to grit her teeth and tighten her hold before a soft hand is placed on her right arm. She looks over, her brows furrowed in grief and frustration and so many other feelings that she doesn't quite understand, to meet Beca's navy gaze.
"I'll take her," she says quietly.
Stacie takes a moment to study her friend, seeing the tears brimming in her eyes. Jacob Conrad was not only a father to Stacie, but one to Beca as well, and she realizes when Beca's eyes flit to the coffin, and by the slight tremble in her lower lip, that Beca is going to cry. And Stacie knows that her best friend doesn't want to fall apart in front of everyone.
"Okay," Stacie says, hating the thickness in her voice. "Thank you."
Beca says nothing, only smiling tightly before lifting the three-year-old in her arms and walking away from the other mourners. As Beca turns, Stacie catches a glimpse of Chloe's familiar writing on Beca's wrist, a simple I love you.
It makes Stacie wistful for her own soulmate. She wishes she has what Beca and Chloe obviously have. Their bond solidified so much during Beca's parents' divorce, and Chloe was always so eager to learn anything about Beca's life that not only does she speak to Beca, but she occasionally writes to Stacie, too.
Stacie wants to glance down at her arms, looking for any sort of sign from her soulmate when she remembers that today is the day that they wanted to remain mark free. Which isn't a problem, actually. It would be inappropriate for Stacie to show up to her father's funeral with messages scrawled across her skin. So she doesn't mind the silence from her soulmate.
Except, she kind of does.
She doesn't know why, but when she was about 6, the drawings and what little communication she got almost ceased completely. It confuses Stacie to no end, as Chloe and Beca have always been close, despite living on opposite ends of the country. They write silly notes on an almost daily basis, and more often than not, Beca has a doodle somewhere on her body. It's only on the very rare occasion that Stacie gets any acknowledgement from her soulmate, and even than it's nothing personal; a colorful drawing somewhere not visible in normal clothes on her birthday or a major holiday.
It's as if Stacie's soulmate is determined to stay away from Stacie, and for that she just can't understand. Why would someone want to stay away from their soulmate? Why wouldn't you want to learn everything you could about the person that completes you? Why won't they just talk, or give some sort of sign that they care?
And normally Stacie doesn't question her soulmate's actions. It isn't really her place and she's sure that she will understand when she meets her. Except Stacie really needs the support and the love from her other half, today of all days, and like always, they're absent.
She breathes in deeply, trying to rid her chest of the ache, when her breath catches on the lump in her throat. And she's trying to hold on, she is. Her father's casket has just been lowered to the ground and all that's left is the wake at their house before this horrid day is over. But she can't anymore. And as she chokes, she can feel the ache in her chest splinter and out gushes all the sadness, depression, longing, grief, wistfulness, and all of the many other emotions swirling within her into a rough, pain-filled sob.
So caught up in her own pain, Stacie doesn't immediately register her mother's arms encircling her as the others make their way back to their cars.
"Shh, baby," her mother coos to her, running a hand gently up and down her back. "It's okay, let it out."
And she does, letting the sobs take over her body. She lowers her head to her mother's shoulder and lets herself be held. It takes a while, but eventually her tears stop flowing and she's able to form a shaky grasp on herself. She takes a few deep breathes when she can and pulls back from her mom, wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks.
She says nothing to her mom. She doesn't need to; her mom knows it all anyway.
"A few more hours, baby, and you can lie down and rest. This day will be over and behind us and we can begin healing." Stacie nods, not trusting her voice and follows her mother back down to their car where Beca and Andie are waiting quietly.
The wake is a different kind of horrible, and Stacie opts to not say anything. She's tired of condolences; she doesn't want to hear any more stories about how great of a man her father was. She knows. All she wants now is quiet and some time to be alone and start adjusting to life without her father.
Eventually everyone leaves, minus Beca, and Stacie retires to her room. As soon as she shuts the door, she walks to her bed and collapses face down. The day's events have exhausted her and it's not long until she's asleep.
"Psst, Stace." The whisper accompanied by a weight on her chest makes Stacie surface from her sleep slowly. As she opens her eyes, she can tell she's been asleep for a couple of hours, the sun now much lower in the sky, painting the walls of her bedroom in the golden sun of the late afternoon. Her eyes feel wet again, and their sting accompanied by the ache in her throat make Stacie wish that whomever woke her up had just let her sleep.
"Stacie," the voice whispers again, this time accented by a poke of a little finger to her nose. Stacie rolls her eyes down and is met with the face of a proudly grinning Andie.
She groans slightly and clears her throat, asking in a rough voice, "What, And?"
The three-year-old bounces herself on Stacie's chest, pushing out air and making her chest hurt more than it already does. At least this time it's a physical pain instead of a figurative pain.
"I drawed you a picture," Andie says proudly, sitting up and looking down at Stacie.
Stacie can't help but smile at her sister's adorableness. "Oh yeah?" She asks, receiving a happy nod in return. "Let's see it then."
Andie scrambles off of Stacie's chest and grabs her hands, lifting them up so she can see the flowers drawn on her arms. "They're here."
Stacie immediately freezes when she sees the messy scribbles. She can tell that Andie used a great deal of concentration to try to get the flowers as pretty as possible. But more than that, it's still June 27th, and Stacie knows her soulmate wouldn't be happy.
"Oh no," she whispers, heart rate starting to pick up in panic. Maybe, hopefully, whatever her soulmate had going on was finished already. Maybe she didn't mind the childish drawings on her arms. Stacie felt a roll of panic-induced nausea and jolted into a sitting position. It was unlikely. One simple thing was asked of her and she couldn't even do that.
"What did you do, Andie?" Her voice, now stronger but still quiet is hard. Andie's eyes widen in shock, not used to seeing Stacie so upset.
"I-I-I," she stutters, tears quickly welling up and overflowing. "I wanted to make you something pretty so y-you'd be happy."
"Then why couldn't you use a piece of paper?!" Stacie snaps, clenching her teeth.
Whatever reply Andie came up with is incomprehensible through her loud sobs. Stacie, at this point roiling in anger stands up, lifting her sister up off of her bed and putting her by the door. "Get out, Andie."
When the three-year-old does nothing but collapse into a ball of sobbing snot, Stacie snaps. "Andie! Get out of my room! Now!" Never before has she spoken to her sister like this. It won't be the first time, Stacie is sure, but she knows that when she calms down there'll be hell to pay.
Beca comes running in, eyes wide and worried. "What's going on?" She asks, looking at the child sobbing on the floor then back to Stacie.
In response, Stacie lifts up her arms. Her fists are clenched in anger and she looks like she could throw a punch at any minute, but Beca understands. It takes her a minute to fully comprehend the situation, but when she does her eyes go wide and she quickly picks Andie up and passes her to Stacie's mother, who rushed in behind Beca when she heard the yelling and sobbing break out.
"Go wash it off, Stacie," Beca urges, shutting the door and quieting the sobbing from outside.
Stacie storms into her adjoining bathroom, still fuming. She catches a look at herself in the mirror over her sink. Her hair is mussed from sleep, her skin blotchy from the tears, but it's her eyes that catch her attention. They're filled with rage and anguish and she doesn't recognize them at all. They're cold and dull, reflecting more as a deep gray than the usual sea-green that they are.
She closes her eyes, turning away from the mirror and starts stripping her clothes to take a shower. When she opens them, she sees small neat script on her thighs and pauses her actions. She scrunches her brow in confusion, then worry over what it must be before sitting on the cold tile floor and reading the message. She reads it once, then twice, then a third, but she's not really taking the message in.
It's the last part of the message that stands out:
I hope you're proud of yourself. Do not talk to me, do not try to find me, do not mark yourself further than necessary. I have no desire to ever know you or see you. I no longer have a soulmate.
And just like that, all of Stacie's anger and fight leave her. She's nothing more than a shell of herself sitting on the bathroom floor. How could her soulmate just do that? Get rid of her so quickly? They didn't even wait for an explanation or an apology. How could her soulmate think that she would intentionally do this, Stacie looks at her arms blankly before returning her attention to the message.
She's still sitting against the tub when Beca knocks on her door awhile later. She hasn't moved or taken her eyes off of the message. She hasn't bothered to wash the drawing from her arms. She can't think to do anything than stare at the message scrawled on her thighs. What can she do? Her soulmate just dumped her without even knowing her or giving her a chance.
"Stace?" Beca knocks again, "You've been in there a really long time and I haven't heard any water running. You okay?"
Stacie can't even answer her. No, she's not okay. She had to say her final goodbye to her father this morning and by the early evening she had to say it to her soulmate, too. The day isn't even finished yet and Stacie dreads what else could happen and go wrong.
Not getting any sort of reply, Beca opens the door and peeks her head in the crack. She frowns when she sees Stacie sitting on the floor in nothing but her underwear, staring blankly at the black lines on her thighs. Stepping into the bathroom and not bothering to close the door behind her, Beca sits down next to Stacie.
"What is that?"
Stacie doesn't answer besides a small shake of her head, her eyes still staring blankly. Beca takes Stacie's hand and leans forward to read the message. By the time she finishes reading, her mouth is open in shock and her expression is one of outrage.
"How could they do this?" Beca's voice rings through the bathroom, bringing Stacie back to herself a little bit.
Stacie shakes her head and curls in on herself, squeezing Beca's hand tighter instead of letting it go completely. "I don't know," she replies.
"Where's a pen?" Beca asks, looking around and starting to stand up. Stacie grips her hand tighter and pulls her back down.
"Don't." In that single word is all the pain that Stacie has been trying to contain.
As soon as Beca hears it, she sits back on the floor and gathers Stacie into her arms. They sit there together, holding one another until Stacie's mom knocks on Stacie's bedroom door, announcing dinner.
"Are you hungry?" Beca asks without moving from her position.
Stacie shakes her head. "I'm just tired." She pulls away from Beca and starts to stand, stretching out her kinked muscles and trying to regain the feeling in her feet. "I'm just going to wash this off and go to bed."
Beca nods and stands as well. She gives Stacie another hug before leaving her to shower. "I'll be here when you're ready," she says.
Stacie nods and gives her a ghost of a smile. "I know. You always are."