Chapter 4
Their father's funeral was first, and well-attended by cops and well-wishers alike. Everyone had liked the cheerful officer who told ridiculous stories. The people from Dad's team had taken care of everything, banding together to pay for most of the funeral costs. Lieutenant Anbu had even convinced the Chief to assign some officers from another precinct to their office for the day, so everyone who had worked with Dad could take the day off to attend. Even so, it wasn't an official officer's funeral, with the uniforms and salutes and speeches from city officials, because their father hadn't been on duty when he was attacked. When he died.
Mako wasn't sure exactly what had happened; no one wanted to tell the children how, exactly, their father had been killed. But it was all over the radio and newspapers.
"Metalbending Officer Slain in Mugging Gone Wrong" screamed one headline. "Firebender slays Off-Duty Officer, Non-bending Wife in Critical Condition" announced another.
After the first day, the articles about their parents were moved further back in the papers, the headlines smaller, though no less painful. "Wife of Slain Officer Remains in Coma." "Operation Ash Captures Cop-Killing Bender. Too Little, Too Late?"
Mako wanted to read everything, listen to every special report. It hurt, but he wanted to know. But he couldn't. He had to watch Bolin, and Bolin burst into tears every time someone mentioned the mugging, or Dad. So Mako kept the radio off, or turned to one of the jazzy music stations. He hid the newspapers. He made sandwiches. For a while, they kept going to school, but everyone knew what had happened, and even the teachers couldn't look them in the eye. Especially after school, when the other kids their age had to stay to wait for their parents. Mako would grab Bolin's hand and they would trudge through the school's green gates, knowing their friends, and everyone else in the schoolyard, were watching them leave. One day, without discussing it, they just stopped going.
They spent most of their time in the hospital anyhow, waiting for their mother to wake up.
She never did.
Her funeral was three weeks after Dad's, in the same temple, with the same priest. A few of the officers attended, but they told Mako that the others couldn't afford to take more time off so soon. Mom had a lot of friends though, and they all came. Even the old man who ran the grocery down the street came, his wrinkled felt cap clutched in his gnarled hands. They all brought flowers.
Mom loved flowers, and they all knew it. White lilies and roses and all sorts of other blossoms Mako couldn't identify filled the temple. They hung from wreaths, cascaded over the casket, overflowed from baskets. It was beautiful, but their rich, too-sweet perfumes overpowered the smell of the incense, and made Mako feel like he was drowning in petals.
Some days later, some people started coming by to see them. A woman and a monk. The woman called herself a grief counselor. She came by once a week, always Tuesday afternoons, and stayed for exactly half an hour each time. She talked too much. She told them she was there if they needed someone to explain things, or if they wanted to talk about their feelings. She asked if they were going to school, if they had any other family, what they planned to do. She said if they didn't have family, the city had "institutional support" for kids like them. There was the Agni Center, and Pebble House, where she thought they would fit in well. Bolin threw a tantrum at the last part. Mako told her they had an aunt coming, but she lived on the other side of the Earth Kingdom, so it was going to take a while.
The monk didn't call himself anything. He brought tea, sometimes dumplings. Sometimes, he hugged Bolin and let the boy cry into his shoulder. Mako didn't cry then, but he appreciated the gesture.
There were a lot of bills. Hospital bills, mostly. But also ones for food, for rent, for electricity. They ran out of money the first month, and the landlord kicked them out six weeks later. Mako didn't tell the woman anything on her last visit. He didn't tell the monk, either, but he did thank him. It was only proper.
They took almost nothing with them when they left. There wasn't much left to take. Bolin clutched a small pin that had been their mother's, a green stone carved as a monkey holding a peach, set in gold. It had been a birthday present from their father. Mako wore their dad's soft red scarf. He remembered watching their mother knit it by firelight last year, her secret project in the evenings after their father had gone to bed. Most firebenders had trouble staying up so late, but Mako liked it. Their mother had always joked that it was the only advantage Mako had inherited from their father's side of the family. Their father always responded that Bolin slept enough for both brothers. Had always responded.
They stood on the steps of their home for the last time. It was early, just past dawn, and Bolin was blinking sleepily, not really awake yet. Mako shouldered his schoolbag, swollen not with books but with a blanket and clothes. With his other hand, he reached down to grab Bolin's.
"No matter what happens now, we're going to stick together just like this okay, Bolin?"
His little brother nodded up at him.
"Always."