Chapter 13
The Eulogy
It shouldn't be this hard.
The loss, yes.
This whole experience, yes.
Writing a bloody eulogy, no.
Gail shuffles restlessly at the desk, trying to settle down with the laptop perched in front of her, casting her in artificial light at this late hour. Dragging the curser away from the blank word document, she notices just how late it is and how long she has been sat there, at a loss, unable to find the words.
It's not that she doesn't want to start, it's the fear she won't be able to stop once her fingers hit the keys and then what? What will she become then? Will the feelings dampen? Will it strengthen? And to summarise the life of the man whom brought so much love, pain and absence, she's not sure the document will be able to hold such content, let alone be shared to the world for everyone to see — not when she can hardly bring herself to be so vulnerable in the first instance.
She double clicks on the chrome browser instead, and googles eulogy. Pages upon pages of what an eulogy is, it's definition, what to include and how long one should be. The breath leaves her with the knowledge this power holds, the responsibility she carries. It's not fair in the slightest.
School work, paperwork, reports and testimonies, a whole host of mundane and matter of fact accounts can never, for a moment, compare to this. Why her mother assigned this to her, she will never know. Why not write one herself, or get Steve or some relative or another to do it? Heck, pay some professional, at least the quality would be there, which is something everyone is looking for, considering his importance to a number of people in all walks of life.
This is just overwhelming.
How can she include moments from his life when.. she felt like she barely knew him? That he barely knew of her. There were moments, and they were father and daughter, but really, on a human, intimate level? The memories are seldom, though rich. And there's only so much she knows about his background.
dad
It takes her a moment to realise her error, and so she erases the word and types again.
bill peck
Carefully, and with a considerable breath, she scrolls down the page, a dull ache in her chest as she absorbs the wealth of data at her fingertips. Most sites centre on his death and delve a little into his background, his occupation, affiliation, rank. Some pictures, some descriptions. It's stuff she already knows, though some details are new.
It's like she's seeing him, and there's one picture she stops on. One where he's in his thirties, looking smart and young and just so full of effervescence. His eyes draw her in, and the spark is enough to make her close the browser altogether.
The pain throbs in her chest again, this time sharper.
She's been looking looking in the photo albums, so why does this hurt more so? Is it because it's not one she's ever seen before? Is it the fact he can exist in timeless space before her, smiling with all the life in him, only to be dead in reality? It's almost cruel how pictures can bring joy and yet just as much sorrow.
He had no glasses on.
No beard.
On some kind of beach, white top and dark brown pants. Looking off into god knows where.
Happy.
Was he happy in the end? Did he have regrets? Did he do everything he wanted to? Did he know his health was this bad? Did he try and do something about it?
No. She'll never know.
The curser moves back to the word document and the stupid i-beam pointer blinks, shaming the amount of time it has taken to get here, and with no progress made. Her eyes downcast before spotting the time.
2:04am.
Her hand rubs at her face, wiping away the sleep, and with it the liquid threatening to overspill. She glances over to the bed, eyes roaming over the backside of Holly settled underneath the sheets. When her eyes close, she finds the tightness eases ever so slightly, and her laboured breaths also slowing.
"No more panic attacks, come on, get it together."
She can't keep relying on Holly.
And maybe last night was a bit of an overshare, considering what she said.
It wasn't planned, not that she regrets saying it because she feels it. It's just not the right time, especially when they had yet to have a true conversation since their last outlet several days ago. Or was it a week? Time is no longer logical, not that it ever was in the grand scheme of things.
Still, too much was said and not enough was received. At least, in words.
It's not like she needs Holly to say it back.
But, it would make this feel a whole lot better if she had.
Gail opens her eyes, staring at her once again. Her actions speak so loudly, but there's a nagging thought at the back of her head — why didn't she say it back? Clearly it wasn't too much, cause Holly stayed and they went to bed and it was tender and everything good in her life at a time where goodness shouldn't exist, but does.
Why didn't she say it back?
Does she not feel the same? Maybe she's not quite there yet, which is fine. There's a lot going on, Gail can be patient—
Why didn't she say it back?
"Ugh, stop."
She turns away and closes the laptop, bathing the whole room once again in darkness. Her body is up before she can make sense of it, and she's out of the door, heading down stairs, but not before spotting her brother's door slightly ajar. She can just make out the two bodies in the bed.
"Gross." She ignores how her heart flutters as she moves away, continuing her efforts to get away from the people closest to her. Once at the bottom of the staircase she makes for the kitchen, only to spot a dark figure coming out of it.
"Hey—"
"Quiet, Gail, people are sleeping."
"Mother, you almost gave me a—" She stops in her tracks, clocking on to the ill fated words ready to tumble from her mouth. Her mother doesn't react with words, not when silence is an effective answer.
"I'm sorry." She's not sure why she's apologising, it doesn't come naturally as she grasps the back of her neck, feeling the tension build up there once more. There's a moment of silence, and she wishes she could see her mother clearly.
"Why are you up?"
"Why are you?"
"We're not playing Uno. I asked you a question, Gail." Only her mother can infuriate her this much. Her grip lessens, only for her hand to drop flaccid by her side, no point sugar coating it.
"I couldn't sleep."
"I gathered that much."
"Then why ask?"
"Why must you treat every conversation we have as if it's an interrogation?"
"Oh, I'm not sure, because you installed this behaviour in me?" The shaking of Elaine's head and despondent exhale is enough to know that Gail went too far, and yet not far enough. She watches her mother walk past her and into the room she has frequented so often as of late.
Hiding away once again from the truth.
"Get some rest, you will need it for tomorrow."
"Right back at ya." The door is half closed when her mother retches it back open, her figure suddenly standing in front of her, imposing as ever.
"Why must you be like this? Like some— some child?"
"Takes one—"
"I birthed you. I held you. I raised you. And I did everything I could to make sure that when the time come, you would be prepared for this world. To be level headed and above the rest. But this, you.. I don't recognise you sometimes, Gail, and that worries me."
"Surprising when you don't know me at all. You don't know anything about me."
"No, I don't."
The stare is no longer focused on her, but instead elsewhere. The creaking of the banister breaks Gail's concentration, and when she looks, she notices someone coming down.
Holly.
"In spite of it all, I love you most extraordinarily."
The whiplash is enough to bring tears to her eyes, not anticipating the admission let alone visibly witnessing her mother respond in kind, with eyes brimming.
"Goodnight Gail."
"Mom."
The door is closed before she can do anything more.
She wants to open it, to say time is not on their side, that anything could happen from this breath to the next, so this moment in—between needs to be capitalised on but, she holds back. She stumbles to the door, resting her hand on it. So much darkness, until a light switches on to bathe her feet from where it escapes under the bottom of the door.
"Gail?"
She rests her head on the door, the hurt too much to bare.
If only she was honest and admitted the reason she could not sleep was because tomorrow was going to be the most ruinous day of her life, and she had yet to write the eulogy?
Maybe her mom knew?
Clearly her mother knows a lot more than she had let on.
"Hey."
The touch brings her back to the now, it's gentle on her elbow. A small caress, but it's enough.
She let's go of the door.
"Let's get you back to bed." If she closed her eyes, she could imagine a different location, a different scenario playing out, one full of peace and butterflies and her, but alas, she is here and she cannot. Not when there is a eulogy to be written.
"I need coffee." She turns to go to the kitchen again, adamant now more than ever to deliver on her mother's request. She may not know why her mother asked her to write the eulogy, but she will damn well write it, even if it means she won't be getting any rest tonight.
"Why?"
Flicking the switch on, she makes the kitchen bright. It hurts her eyes, her head, her heart — but maybe that's a good thing. Opening the cupboard, she turns to Holly, who merely shakes her head in response, and so Gail removes one mug.
She pretends to not see the mug her father drank from every day.
"I have to write."
Holly is about to speak when it dawns on her, her features soften almost instantly.
"I can help you with that."
Gail turns away then placing her attention to the task at hand.
"I.. I would like that, but I need to do it myself." The Nespresso machine comes to life and she goes about making herself the strongest beverage she can think of at this time of day, even though her mind is already awake, and riddled with thoughts.
"Well, I can keep you company while you write."
"You should try and sleep, it's gonna be a long day tomorrow."
"You know that doesn't wash with me, right?"
If only she had the courage to face her, to instead take the advice of her mother and not just regurgitate her words to those she loves in order to make it seem like she has her shit together. She knows better than that.
The mechanical noises become louder now and so she fixates on it, trying to defer her attention elsewhere once more.
"If you're awake, I'm awake." She's grateful the sigh is lost under her breath when the room is occupied with enough sound as is. She finally pushes herself away and looks over her shoulder to see Holly now sitting on the counter opposite, legs dangling and moving freely. She can't help but take notice to how Holly looks, in her vest and shorts.
"You look cute like that."
"I'm always cute."
"Big headed much." She leans back against the counter in an attempt to appear unbothered, but really, she wants to reach out so much right now. To slip in-between her legs and pull her close and just kiss her, to feel her pressed against her. It's been so long since they slept together, since all they do is sleep together. Sharing a few kisses here and there, always light, never firm.
Maybe she needs to change that.
The coffee machine has other ideas, and reluctantly she swirls back around to sort her drink out with a bitter taste already residing in her mouth.
Why didn't she say it back?
"How you take your coffee like that is beyond me."
"What? It's not supposed to be nice."
"Tell that to every coffee lover out there."
"Gladly." Once she finishes cleaning up, she turns back around, making sure to be agile with the steaming liquid in her grasp. She brings the mug up to her lips, tasting the execution and finding it absolutely awful — just how she likes it. Holly snorts quietly, murmuring something under her breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"No no, you have the floor." She gestures with her drink, before deciding to put it back down onto the counter. It may be too hot for her to hold right now, though she won't admit that. Especially to Holly, who is refraining from laughing. She can tell by the way her eyes crease, and the mirth lingering in them. The smirk gives her away as well.
"I wouldn't say that, considering." Her eyes roam the floor in quick succession, making a show to swing her feet in amusement. Gail folds her arms in mild embarrassment, but again, she won't ever confess to that.
"Figure of speech, thought somebody of your intelligence would be able to ascertain that."
"Wow, one sip and you're already making strides in your vocabulary. I'm proud of you." Her head instinctively shakes in disbelief, teeth quick to bite her lip to prevent the flow of words that want to break free. Instead she walks over to Holly, who swiftly stills on the countertop, bewitched by the movement. She takes care to place one hand down onto the surface, slowly followed by the other, closing Holly in.
"Nobody warned me that 2am Holly would be so snarky."
There's a conscious effort to kill this building arousal, it's evident in how Holly inhales softly under her breath and casts her eyes away, taking care to evade being caught. Even when it's too late, having glimpsed how dilated her eyes have become — much like her own, no doubt.
She wants Holly to not shield away. She wants her to look right back in her direction, to be here now in this moment, and submit. To embrace the energy coursing between them, to give and receive. To just be as they were before all this happened, before everything changed them and her world altered forever.
To be close with no barriers, a wide open chasm and dive right in.
No more fear, no more doubt.
There's a battle waging in Holly. Her eyes waver, daring to look back briefly before breathing through the thrum.
Gail tilts her head, following her, stepping closer until she's pressed against the cold surface, legs resting by her hips. She instinctively licks her lips at the touch, even though it's barely there. If only Holly just returned her stare, and just tightened her legs around her.
Doesn't she want that anymore?
And it's like she can sense her thoughts, because something snaps. She moves her head back, and she's right there, her face curious and open and full of longing and something else entirely that weighs heavy on her. There is also hesitation.
She feels her left leg start to trail up her side, gentle in it's ministrations.
Breathing one another's air, hot on each other's lips. Noses bump and glasses askew slightly based on the angle, but still, it's everything Gail wants and needs and desires so very badly. To feel Holly come undone like she is right now. Her eyes dip down, and she's so ready. She spots how her hands curl by her sides, bracing herself for the impact.
"Did somebody say coffee at 2am cause I am parched. Oh damn! Sorry."
And just like that, her brother ruins the mood.
She doesn't look away first, doesn't even shy away, no. She watches Holly fluster and straighten up, her hands uncoiling, and if she didn't know any better, she'd say there was relief awash her face.
Why didn't she say it back?
The blubbering mess behind her doesn't register, not when Holly eventually looks back and clearly reads something and goes to reach out, but Gail finally releases her stance. She picks up her mug from across the counter, which is now much cooler, choosing to not stick around as she makes her way out of the kitchen, bypassing a mumbling mess of a brother.
"Sis, I'm—"
"Not listening."
"Gail, hey, wait up."
Why couldn't he remain in bed? Why must his coffee brain alert him? She should have known, he is an addict, no matter the hour. And in all fairness, she's not really focused on him, not when she saw Holly's face flood with relief. Did she not want to be with her physically anymore? Is she just a friend helping out a friend? No, she's knows that's not it.
"Don't ignore me."
She makes it back into her room, not sure how to address Holly now the moment is over. Obviously she can't continue to be evasive. Yet when she sits down at the desk, her mug next to her laptop, she wants nothing more than to hide when realisation of what lies ahead crashes over her.
Holly comes to a halt by the door, clearly having sprinted up the staircase. Not that she's out of breath or anything, not with her stupid workouts and great shape. She can't exactly resent her for that, even though she is slightly out of breath herself. She takes a sip of drink to hide this fact, facing away from her.
Placing the drink back down, she opens up the laptop, ready to face this head on.
The laptop slams shut.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to have a conversation with my girlfriend who's trying to avoid me." Gail returns her gaze with a grunt, arms quick to fold in defence mode.
"Hypocrite much."
"What do you mean?" She looks incredulous, hurt and it's almost enough to get her to talk, to open up once more but she can't stop replaying the look on her face from before. She could see the way she held back from touching her.
The way she has yet to return her adoration.
"Nothing." She goes to open the laptop again but Holly is fast, putting her hand on the laptop to keep it closed. She shifts forward until her upper body hovers, closing her in. It's not how she envisioned this panning out.
She prepares herself for the onslaught.
"Please, talk to me." The demand is committed and too intense for her to breathe, and so she looks down needing a reprieve, because all she wants to do is just put her arms around her and draw her in and never, ever let go. To remain here, with her, and grow with her, and love her. To witness growth and age and change with her. To share all there is left with her.
Because nothing is guaranteed, nothing is forever, no matter how badly she wants it to be.
Not when she saw forever torn from her mother.
Not when Holly places limitations on them.
"How can I, when you won't talk to me?"
"I just don't want to push you, Gail. Things are delicate."
"You're right, things are delicate," She braves the wave of anxiety, and lifts her gaze to stare at her, "I lost my dad; I didn't lose you, but it feels like I am. And I'm not sure what's worse, feeling the loss suddenly or ever so slowly."
"No, no, Gail—"
"Why didn't you— I just, nevermind. I can't do this right now. I have to work on the eulogy. And you should sleep."
"How can you expect me to go to bed when you've dropped that on me, on us? I'm not dead, I'm not leaving—"
"I really can't get into this right now."
"Well tough shit, it's happening now, because I lo—"
"Stop, please. Don't do this now."
"This is what I'm talking about, Gail. Things are so fragile, and I'm trying so hard to make sure I do everything right and not cross any boundaries and respect what you say and do, even when you're not sure—"
"I can't do this." She stands up then, moving the chair back so she can create some space between them. Her presence becoming not too dissimilar to suffocation. Holly realising this takes a step back, her hands immediately raised in the air to yield.
"This is what I wanted to avoid. Please, don't misinterpret my words or my actions. I know deep down you understand why I'm doing this." Even now, with this happening, Gail wants nothing more than to cross the distance and repair the damage done. To make things OK again, whatever that may look like now.
Only she doesn't know how long things will remain strained like this for, this limbo between them. Suppose there's no end date on grief; but damn is she sick and tired of the baby gloves.
"I do, but it hurts all the same. And it really, really sucks because I'm not always existing as someone who is fatherless and lost. I feel other things too."
"I know. I'm trying my best here. You need to know though, we will make it through this. You're not losing me, I'm not losing you. I'm here and we're gonna make it through this, together. It won't always be this way." She's so earnest and brave and she wants to believe her so desperately, even when her thoughts dampen the hope. Questions linger on her tongue, like why don't you touch me and why oh why won't you say you love me back? But she knows. She does know, deep down. Noble intentions, pure heart.
Holly is a keeper.
Even her mother recognises as much.
"It just takes time."
"I fucking hate time, it's never on our side." Gail can see how Holly deflates at this, obviously itching to be closer, to say more words. She blinks a few times, the exhaustion getting to her.
"Please go to sleep."
"Not until you do." Gail sighs at this, moving forward to rest her chin on Holly's shoulder. Her arms wrap around her midsection, pulling her closer still.
"Please hold me." Her weight then settles against hers, finally. Gail can feel her exhale, arms wrapping around her shoulders and bringing her in further, until they are no longer separate but one. It's all she wanted tonight, whether it lead to more or not. She just wanted to be here, in her embrace.
"You're saying please an awful lot." She lowers her head, nudging forward into her shoulder, appreciating Holly's tactic to defuse the remaining tension in her body. She really does love this woman, no matter how infuriating she can be.
"Shut up."