CHAPTER 10
Everything Is Different
SATURDAY, AUGUST 23, 2014 | 10:05 AM
Caleb slams the trunk shut, and a moment later he opens the passenger door of my Honda Civic and sits down beside me. I don't wait for him to buckle his seatbelt before pulling into traffic and driving away from the United Airlines baggage claim. We don't even say hello to each other; he has been gone for a week, but the air between us is still charged with tension.
I shift in my seat and smooth my black dress. "Good thing your plane wasn't any later, or you'd have missed the funeral, too," I say. I glance over my shoulder to check my blind spot and as I merge onto the freeway, I mutter, "As if missing her death wasn't bad enough."
"Beatrice," Caleb groans.
"What?!" I snap. "That was beyond shitty, and you know it. She was our mother, Caleb. You knew she was dying, you could have waited the week to leave for school, and yet, you didn't."
He huffs. "You just don't understand."
"You're right. I don't."
Caleb pouts and stares out the window for the rest of the drive to the funeral home. For the entire forty-five minutes, neither of us says a word. Only the sporadic blare of a car horn and my occasional whispered cursing at the traffic interrupts the charged silence.
I have spent the past three days since my mother's death sitting despondently on my bed, unable to sleep until the wee hours of the morning and finding it practically impossible to wake up until late in the afternoon. I only interrupt my mourning for Uriah's sake: each day I have visited Jacob in the hospital for an hour in the evening, then spent some time with Uriah once visiting hours end. Walking into that hospital after watching my mother die there is one of the hardest things I have ever done, but I cannot abandon my best friend and the people who have cared for me and welcomed me as if I were their own family, despite having met such a short time ago. Through all this, I have learned how meaningless time can really be, and at the same time, how valuable.
Bitterly, I wonder how Caleb has spent the past three days. Has he retreated into himself to mourn our dear mother as I have? Or has he gone about his business, exploring his new surroundings and meeting new people? I don't know, and I will not ask. The answer might only serve as another stab in my already battered heart. He has known of her death for three days, yet he booked a flight that barely made it here in time for her funeral, narrowly missing his final chance to say goodbye.
I'm not sure if I will ever forgive him for it.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 23, 2014 | 1:20 PM
The funeral was a somber affair. I sat in the front row to my father's left, Caleb on his right. I may not get along too well with my dad, but I would rather sit next to him than Caleb right now. To my relief, no one complained when Uriah sat to my other side. Silent tears escaped my eyes and trailed down my cheeks, but Uriah kept his hand firmly wrapped around mine, rubbing his thumb back and forth along the webbing between my thumb and index finger, keeping me grounded, preventing me from coming apart into so many pieces I might never pick them all up and fit them together again.
Hana approaches me at the reception that follows. "I didn't know you were here," I say into her ear as she she embraces me. "You should be with Jacob right now."
Hana shakes her head. "No, I should be here for you right now. And your mother."
"But you have so little time with him," I argue, "I don't want you to regret—"
She pulls back and looks at me. "I won't regret being here for you, Beatrice, I can promise you that. I've taken leave from work, so I have far more time with him than I had before. Natalie was a wonderful woman, and she had become my friend."
I nod, tears welling in my eyes. "You should get back to Jacob, Hana."
"I know," she nods. "I'll see you soon."
When she steps away, Uriah takes her place and pulls me into a hug. "I want to stay here with you, but—"
"Go," I tell him. "Thank you for being here while you could."
"I'll see you tonight," Uriah tells me. He kisses my cheek and quickly hurries after his mother, and I find myself watching him leave, my hand covering the place where I can still feel the ghost of his lips.
"Beatrice," Caleb says, and I turn toward him. I scowl at the smile that is on his face. How can he be smiling right now? "I'd like you to meet my mentor, Jeanine Matthews." I narrow my eyes at Caleb before I reluctantly shake the woman's hand. I recognize the name; this is the woman he worked for at Erudite Tech. She is around my dad's age with perfectly styled blond hair falling in a long bob, past her chin, and she wears a dark blue pencil skirt and jacket. Doesn't she know you're supposed to wear black to a funeral? "And Jeanine," Caleb continues, "I believe you already know my father, Andrew."
"So good to see you again, Jeanine," Dad says. He shakes her hand now, but unlike me, he wears a warm smile on his face. "Thank you for coming today."
"With all our history, Andrew, of course I wanted to offer my condolences and support," Jeanine says. History? I never heard about any history between my father and Jeanine. "If you need anything, if I can help in any way, don't hesitate to call me."
"What a kind offer," I say dryly. I don't like this woman. I don't know exactly why, but something about her rubs me the wrong way. I don't trust her.
Dad shoots me a warning look, but Jeanine ignores my tone. "Of course, I would always want to be there for an… old friend." She pulls Dad into a hug and I am disgusted at how easily he hugs back. She whispers something in his ear and I see him nod. I shake my head and walk away.
"Beatrice!" I hear, and I tense. Somehow, every time I have heard my name today, it has given me a strange feeling in my stomach. Susan, Megan and Tess suddenly surround me and smother me in a hug.
"I'm so sorry," Megan says.
"We didn't think it would be so soon!" Susan adds.
They pull back. Megan narrows her eyes, staring past me so I glance over my shoulder. "Isn't that Tobias's dad?" she asks just as I spot Mr. Eaton talking to my dad and Jeanine Matthews. Seeing Mr. Eaton reminds me of Tobias, and I'm hit with a fresh wave of grief and anger.
"Yeah," I mutter, looking down at my shoes.
"I can't believe he isn't here," Tess whisper-yells. "You really don't know where he went?"
"No, I don't," I say, my voice flat. "I already told you that. Can we stop talking about him? My family didn't know about us, remember?"
The girls nod, even though it's obvious by the look in their eyes, hungry for gossip, that they don't want to let it go.
Tess smirks at me. "So… who was that boy sitting with you?" she asks with a glint in her eye.
"Uh, that was Uriah," I say uncomfortably. "He's… I met him at the hospital."
"He's cute!" Susan gushes. "So are you two…" she wiggles her eyebrows.
"No! It's not like that," I defend. "We're just friends."
"Sure you are," she laughs. I roll my eyes, why do they have to assume that because he's a boy and I'm a girl, we can't just be friends? Why is this something we are discussing at my mother's funeral, anyway?
I fake a smile. "Well, thanks for coming," I say.
"See you at school Monday," Tess says. I won't see them Monday, I won't be going back to their school, I'll be in school with Uriah. But I don't want to talk to them any more right now so I just wave and walk away.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 23, 2014 | 7:30 PM
I stand in front of my bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection. I look the same as I always have, still just plain Beatrice.
I keep staring, but I don't see myself. I don't feel like the same old Beatrice any more. I close my eyes and I can feel my mother's fingers sliding soothingly over my hair, like they did the last day I spent with her while I cuddled up next to her in her hospital bed, telling her of all my adventures—telling her of pretending to be Tris. My eyes wet with tears, I rock back and forth, trying to push the memory from my mind. I am afraid that if I start to sob, I will never stop until I shrivel up like a raisin.
I open the top drawer of my bathroom vanity and pull out a pair of scissors.
I feel calm as I undo my the long braid in my hair and comb it. I part my hair down the middle and make sure that it is straight and flat. I close the scissors over the hair by my chin.
How can I look the same, be the same, when she's gone and everything is different? I can't.
I cut in as straight a line as I can, using my jaw as a guide. The tricky part is the back, which I can't see very well, so I do the best I can by touch instead of sight. Locks of blond surround me on the floor in a semicircle.
I look in the mirror. Beatrice is gone, and Tris stares back at me.
I think of that last day with Mom, remember how happy she looked—frail, but happy—as I told her about my adventures.
"I was like you when I was young," she had said to me. "I don't regret the life I chose, but sometimes I wonder if I might have been destined for something more. You have always loved to explore and challenge yourself. I remember when Caleb was small, he was always content to sit with puzzles and books. But not you, Beatrice."
I remember her smile, and the faraway look in her eyes.
"You were always so independent and capable," she said. "Even when you were only three or four months old, you were determined to get where you wanted to go, and to do it by yourself. I've never seen a baby roll across a room as fast as you could. You can do whatever you put your mind to. Don't settle, Beatrice."
My mother would have liked Tris and her adventures. I know what I need to do, who I need to be.
I leave the room without looking at my reflection again.