The Boy Who Didn't Love

36 - the flashbacks

  For the next few days, Sawyer stayed at her house. He cooked for her, drew her baths, and held her close every night. He had wiped away countless tears by now and provided her with silent comfort whenever she needed it.

  He only left her to drop by his apartment for a change of clothes, but he always returned as quickly as traffic would let him.

It was the day of her grandmother's funeral. She had planned and organized everything herself, refusing the help of her father. She claimed that she didn't want to trouble him, knowing how busy he always was with work, but he had a sneaking suspicion that she simply needed something to focus on.

Sawyer stood by her for every step of the way, from the moment she began organizing the funeral, to the moment she was standing in front of her grandmother's open casket in the cemetery chapel. She stared at her grandmother's pale face, still half-expecting she would open her eyes and miraculously wake up from her deep sleep.

Ali blinked back, returning to reality, when a hand gently squeezed her shoulder. She looked up at him and met his dark eyes, which now seemed full of life in comparison to what lifelessness truly was. He handed her the bouquet of the brightest peonies she had ever seen, then stepped back to give her space.

She slowly placed the bouquet inside of the casket, positioning it in between her grandmother's cold hands. She closed her eyes for a moment as she bowed her head, crying silently. After a few minutes, she inhaled shakily and wiped her tears with her sleeve. A familiar hand circled around her waist as she was led back to her seat.

Sawyer held her hand throughout the ceremony, unperturbed when she subconsciously tightened her grip every now and then. He had flashbacks of attending his mother's funeral when he was only ten years old, and he remembered how difficult it was for him to understand the concepts of death and grief. Especially when he hadn't finished learning the concept of maternal love yet.

  He turned to her briefly, eyeing the heartbroken look on her face. For once, he was deeply familiar with the emotions she was experiencing, and he intended to give her what he had lacked—support.

  Once the ceremony ended and the chapel emptied, he remained seated with her in front of the casket. Her eyes were glazed over in thought, replaying the many memories she had shared with her grandmother.

  "Ali," a deep voice called, and she straightened. The man stepped in front of the couple, locking eyes with her.

  "Dad," she whispered as she stood from her seat and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so sorry, Dad."

  "You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm glad you were there for her until her very last breath," he said softly, hugging her tightly. "She always said her biggest fear was dying alone. Thank you for not letting that happen."

He pulled away from her with a sad smile, and she mirrored his expression. His eyes then drifted over to the sociopath, who was watching them carefully.

"You must be Sawyer. I'm glad we could finally meet," her father said as he stretched out his hand. "I'm Andre, Ali's dad."

Sawyer stood from his seat and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"How about we have dinner? I want to catch up with my daughter and get to know you. Is that alright with you two?" Andre asked them, and after exchanging glances, they nodded in agreement. "Good. I'd like to drop by my mom's house afterward. There are a few things I want to take back home with me, some memorabilia."

"Okay. I'm just going to use the restroom real quick before we go," Ali said before leaving the two men alone. They waited at the entrance of the chapel for her in an awkward silence.

Andre glanced over at him and cleared his throat. "I appreciate you being there for my daughter. She's mentioned you a few times on the phone, so I know how much you mean to her."

"She means a lot to me too."

"Good," her father sighed as he looked around aimlessly. "If not for you, I wouldn't have supported her decision to stay here instead of going back with me to the city, and going back to her college there."

Sawyer shifted, slightly taken aback by the news. "She didn't tell me."

"Really? I thought you might've had a hand in the idea."

"No. I've told her before that I would move to the city if she ever wanted to go back. My father owns a few stores there too," Sawyer told him.

Andre shrugged. "She must like it here then. I don't think the city ever felt like a home again after her mother left, whereas this town always did because of her grandmother. But I suppose you've become part of the reason as well now."

  Sawyer stared down at the floor as he considered her father's words. He came to the conclusion that he, too, hadn't felt at home since his mother passed.

Being with Ali, however, had begun to stir that latent feeling once more.