Hushed (13 page)

Thank you. For everything.

He drew away and pulled both lids down on the casket, scooping up the black dress as Evan stepped back from the door. Beady-eyed-man finally came in, and thankfully Evan spoke because he was fairly certain he couldn’t. “Sorry. We’re done now. Thanks for letting us see her.”

Beady-Eyes gave them a bit of a frown, but he forced a smile as he escorted them out. Archer’s head spun. He’d just stolen the dress of a dead woman, ran away from the girl who was supposed to be his best friend, undressed and redressed a corpse. All in the span of a few hours.

Halfway to the car he stumbled. Evan caught him and helped him along the rest of the way.

Wednesday, October 22
^nd

He didn’t remember coming home and sleeping the rest of the day and well into the next morning. Well, he did remember Evan petting his hair, lying beside him. That was about it. He woke in the morning to the smell of bacon. When he crawled out of bed and into the kitchen, Evan had breakfast sitting on the table, waiting for him.

Beyond initial
good morning
s, they didn’t speak. Archer ate his food only because Evan had cooked it and he didn’t want to be impolite. While Evan went home to get changed, Archer took a shower, dressed, and sat out on the steps to wait.

He’d expected the viewing to be upsetting. It
had
been, but not like this. Everything in the air felt heavy all around him. Vivian’s family might know he came back after they’d left. Though whether or not they’d bring it up was a different story. Vivian would be there, and that meant he needed to toughen up and stay strong for her sake.

His mother would be there. He didn’t want to see her.

Evan pulled the car around. It was the third time in a week they would make this trip, and Archer wanted to find a way to apologize. Not that he thought Evan would’ve listened to a word of it. Instead, he tried to lose himself in the steady rumble of the engine, the absent lyrics of the radio.

The parking lot was fuller this time, with a few cars on the side of the road. Evan found a spot and circled around to where Archer got out. “The second you wanna leave, just let me know.”

Archer’s gaze couldn’t meet Evan’s. So infinitely patient, so eager to make things better. Alternating between shy helpfulness and determined insistence. Archer only nodded, and they headed inside.

Vivian stood with her grandparents near the front of the chapel. Most people were sitting, though a few were drifting up front to whisper their condolences to Viv, to say good-bye to Marissa. Her casket was closed now, possibly due to the presence of Vivian’s younger nieces and nephews, who were squirming impatiently in their seats. Kids who hadn’t even known Marissa and were only along for the ride. As a matter of fact, Archer wondered how many of these people were only there out of obligation.

As they headed down the aisle, Vivian caught sight of him and started to smile. The moment her eyes landed on Evan, her expression fell. Evan gracefully excused himself, taking a seat in the front row in order to give Archer a moment alone with Vivian. She threw her arms around him the second he was close enough, and all but ignored Evan’s existence. It was brash and rude, even for her.

Archer hugged her, feeling the dampness of her cheeks against his neck long after she drew away. Grandmother Bea gave him a dark look, no doubt still holding a grudge about their last conversation. Like he cared. There were a hundred more important things to worry about than a cranky old lady.

“How’s it been?” he asked, keeping his voice down. She slipped her arms to link with one of his, leaning into him.

“Grandma’s terrible… She’s already trying to get me to go through Mom’s stuff and throw things out. I mean, I know I have to do it eventually, but…” She looked off, shaking her head.

But Marissa’s not even in the ground yet,
he thought sourly. Vivian had a right to be irritated, just as she had a right to put her foot down. It was her mother, and undoubtedly everything in that house now belonged to Viv.

“They’ll be leaving in the morning,” she whispered. “Will you stay tonight? Please?”

Not on his list of things he hoped Vivian would say. He closed his eyes. “Vivian…”

“What?” Her expression darkened. “Is it because of him? You can’t even stay with me now?”

Defensiveness trickled into his tone without meaning for it to. “You’re out of line. After the other night, I really don’t think putting ourselves in that situation again is a good idea.” When she gave him a petulant pout, he scowled. “I told you. You’re welcome to sleep at my place and I’ll crash on the couch.” Even that was pushing it. Too bad he’d already opened the invitation, and he couldn’t very well take it back now without her
knowing
something was off.

Vivian opened her mouth to protest. Grandma Beatrice leaned over to whisper in her ear, and Viv’s expression sobered. “They’re about to start.”

What’s about to start?
he wanted to ask as Vivian gripped his hand, unrelenting. Brody’s funeral had been a no-nonsense endeavor. Hardly anyone showed up. But when Archer sat down with Vivian on one side and Evan on the other, he realized everyone seemed to have a story about Marissa.

But they were patchworking the pieces they couldn’t remember. Those patches were lies.

“I remember the hours she would stay up, slaving away over those college essays and going through coffeepot after coffeepot…”

This, coming from her own sister. But Marissa hated coffee; she drank tea, just like Vivian. ‘She loved the ocean,’ another one said. Also false. She was terrified of the ocean—she couldn’t swim, but she loved the dolphins. All details. Perhaps minuscule details, but weren’t the little things the most important? Things that none of these people could possibly know because they’d never really known her.

When some distant Hilton cousin finished speaking and sat down, Archer stood up without thinking. Vivian grabbed for his hand, whispered his name. Evan watched wordlessly. He stepped to the front of the chapel next to Marissa’s casket. Those in the room who didn’t know him stared in confusion, those that did gave him dour looks, daring him to ruin their service.

And Archer was aware, when he stood there in front of forty pairs of eyes, he had no idea what to say. Maybe he didn’t like most of the people in the room, but he wouldn’t ruin Marissa’s memorial. Not for her, not for Vivian.

Evan met his eyes from the front row. He smiled. Reassuring. Calm.

He thought of the ocean. Of dolphins. And he took a breath.

“When my dad died, my mom was too taken with grief to be there as much as I needed her. Vivian was my best friend. Her home was my home. And through her mother, Marissa, I had a mom any kid would be envious to have. She went to all my school functions, helped me with my homework, and made me soup when I got sick.”

His mother sat in one of the back rows. How had he not noticed her sooner? Her dark hair and pale eyes, staring him down.
Don’t worry, Mom. I’m not here to tell them how terrible you were.

“She liked chai with chocolate cake.” His voice wavered. “She made up songs to the tune of her music boxes or when she didn’t know the real lyrics to something on the radio. She donated a weekend every month, helping out at the animal shelter, even though she was allergic to cats.

“There are so many little things that made up Marissa…as a friend, as a woman, as a mother. I wish more of you had gotten to see the things Vivian and I saw.” Archer met Vivian’s gaze. Her face was lined with fresh tears, but she smiled at him, pained and happy all at once. “…She was
our
mother,” he murmured. “And she was too good for the shitty hand life dealt her.”

It wasn’t enough. There were a million things he could’ve said, and none of it would’ve been enough. But his memories, his times with Vivian and Marissa…they didn’t belong to anyone else. These strangers who stayed away and never so much as called to ask
how are you
,
Marissa?
They deserved nothing.

He walked back to his seat, mechanical in his movements. When he sat down, Vivian took one of his hands. Evan took the other.

No one got up to speak after him.

Soon enough, everyone rose from their seats and the pallbearers headed up front. People began filing outside. Vivian and Evan still had hold of his hands, and Viv squeezed tightly, tugging. Frantic. He turned in the direction she was looking and was brought face-to-face with his mother’s smoldering gaze.

His expression started to falter.
Stay calm
. No reason to get worked up. “Hey, Mom.”

“Did you have something to do with it?” Venom dripped from every word.

Archer set his jaw. “Something to do with what?”

“You know what.” She grabbed the front of his shirt, fabric fisting in her hands. “Your little comment in there, Archer.
She was too good for this world.
Is that what you thought?”

Archer stared down at her. They looked similar, everyone said. But looking into her wild eyes he realized there had never been a moment in their lives where they’d been alike. Never a moment where she was not a complete stranger to him, no matter how hard he tried. His heart ached for every moment he had grown up wishing they’d shared. Fake stories he told his classmates and teachers, just to give the appearance he had a normal, loving mother.

“I know you’re upset, Mom.” He withdrew his hands from his friends’ so he could place them on his mother’s shoulders. Squeezing just a touch too hard. “But you don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I hurt Marissa?”

His mother stared up at him, this stranger-woman he’d never known. Archer halfway expected her to scream, to slap him and draw the attention of everyone at the funeral. Instead, she put her arms around him, pulled him into an embrace that startled him into immobility. Her hand touched to his head, drawing it to her shoulder.

Then her fingers buried themselves into his hair, and twisted.

From a distance, it would have looked like nothing more than a mother hugging her son, but he could feel pain seeping through his scalp, into his temples, making his eyes burn.

“I know it was you,” she hissed against his ear. “Did you kill her just like you killed your father? You’re a
monster,
Archer
.
Everything around you rots and dies.”

Archer pinched his eyes shut, frozen to the spot. He couldn’t shove her away. Not without making a scene. Her voice slithered into his bones, constricting, the venom of her words making it hard to breathe.

And suddenly he was gone to someplace years ago, on a hot summer afternoon where paramedics wheeled his father’s dead body through the house while his mother stood across the room in stunned silence. There was a moment, a second, where her eyes met his. That brief flash of suspicion, wondering if Archer had something to do with it. The way her expression contorted, from confusion to understanding to horror, was emblazoned in his mind.

Long after they were left alone in the house, she continued to watch him. All she ever said was,
“What did you do, Archer?”

It was the same look she gave him when he stood in front of the chapel, giving his speech about Marissa. It was the same loathing in her voice now.

He wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but Evan pushed himself between him and Mom while Vivian tried to be discreet about pulling her back. As though the two of them realized how urgent it was that his mother not draw attention.

Beatrice and Nancy called out from nearby, beckoning for her to hurry and join them. Just like that, she whipped around and left as though she couldn’t get away fast enough. Her voice echoed in his head long after they were out of sight.

‘Monster. You monster.’

But he wasn’t. He’d never hurt Marissa. Just as he’d never hurt Vivian. Why couldn’t she see that?

Viv touched his face, gingerly smoothing his hair back. “Archer—Archer, look at me. Are you okay?”

He stared at her. The pad of her thumb brushed against his cheek. “Yeah.” It was his voice, but it came out so meek he hardly recognized it. “I just…want to go home.”

“It won’t be much longer.” Vivian looked off at the rest of her family, who’d disappeared through the gates leading out to the cemetery where Marissa would be laid to rest. More prayers would be said. People would mingle and talk amongst themselves. And at that exact moment, Archer thought his opinion of
much longer
differed from Viv’s. He couldn’t be anywhere near his mother.

“No.” He leaned back, away from her touch. “I need to go now. I can’t—not with her there.”

Vivian let her hands drop. “Well…what about waiting in the car? Then we can head back.”

So she’d either condemn him to suffering through the stares of her family and his mother, or she’d leave him alone in the car for an hour or two? Any chances she had of him deciding to go home with her were down the drain.

“I’m going home, Vivian,” he snapped. “
My
home.”

He turned away before he could see her face fall. Before she could act like he’d hit her. She didn’t call his name and she didn’t follow, but when Archer and Evan got into the car he saw her still standing there, watching him go. He refused to feel guilty. Maybe she could learn what it was like to always be left behind.

He wrung his hands together in his lap, fighting against the trembling. Evan said nothing until they were on the freeway.

“Look…about what your mom said—”

“Don’t.” Archer swallowed past a dry throat. “We just…don’t get along. Marissa was one of her only friends.”

Evan nodded slowly. “Why didn’t you go with Vivian?”

Archer looked out the passenger-side window. Evan drove like he usually did, carefully and cautiously. Not recklessly and impatiently like Vivian. “I didn’t want to see my mother.”