Page 103 of Breadwinner
“Nothing. I didn’t consent to the transplant. I couldn’t wrap my head around giving a part of myself to someone who never gave a shit about me. I didn’t tell any of my family, and, as far as they know, Dad died waiting for a match.”
“Do you regret your decision?”
Sarah tilted her chin down, looking at her, and Nell could see the truth in her eyes.
“No. I did what I needed to do to create peace for myself. I had already grieved the loss of my dad years before. I carried that ache of knowing he would never be the parent I needed him to be. And by the time I got that call, I had already worked through the sadness, the anger, and the letting go. But after he died, there was a new wave of unexpected grief—grief for the person he never became. It’s reckoning with the sadness that you’ll never get closure that hurts the most—that things were left unfinished.”
The faint ticking from the grandfather clock in the corner filled the room. Nell swallowed hard. “Unfinished is a perfect word for how I feel right now, but also maybe a little relieved? Is that wrong?”
Sarah’s hand paused, coming to cup her cheek gently. “No. It’s not. It’s okay to be glad they’re gone.”
“I feel cheated,” Nell said, after a moment. “For the last twenty-seven years of my life, I’ve held on to this hope that one day my father would realize what he did to me was wrong. It’sstupid, I know, but a small part of me wanted to believe that he was capable of seeing my bigness. But now that he’s gone, that hope is gone, too. I thought losing him would hurt more, but it’s the loss of that hope that stings.” She took a deep breath in, the weight of Sarah’s hand against her cheek comforting, “I don’t think I want to go to the funeral.”
“That’s perfectly okay.” Sarah tucked her hair behind her ear as she closed her eyes.
“Will you sit with me a little longer?” Nell asked quietly, knowing Sarah’s answer already.
“I’ll sit with you for as long as you want me to.”
The next morning, Nell was woken by the soft buzzing of her phone on the nightstand. She blinked, groggy still from the abrupt wake-up. Pale light filtered through the windows, the sun beginning to rise.
She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Sarah, who was snoring faintly beside her.
Her phone began to buzz again in her hand. She answered it. “Nell Stanhope,” she whispered, as she made her way down the hall.
When she emerged from her office an hour later, Sarah and Nate were seated at the counter, talking over coffee.
“Change of plans today. We’re going to Thaddeus’s funeral after all.”
Both Sarah and Nate looked at Nell, confused but not pushing back.
“Okay, then. Funeral time it is. Think he’ll mind if I wear an obnoxious tie?” Nate asked.
“Do whatever you feel like you need to do to honor his memory,” she answered, motioning to Sarah to follow her.
They went back upstairs and into Nell’s closet. Nell pulled out a black Veronica Beard dress for herself. It was simple, but she knew she looked absolutely untouchable in it.
“I know a funeral isn’t exactly the most fun, but it would mean a lot to me if you came,” she said absently, sifting through the hangers, looking for the suit she had in mind for Sarah. She found it, pulled it from the rack, and handed it to her.
“Of course. Wherever you need me, I’m there.”
“Today, I need you by my side.”
The church where the funeral was being held was one she’d been in a hundred times before. The arched stone facade decorated with ornate stained glass had been a staple of her childhood. People in black and navy lingered in the courtyard before ducking through large wooden doors. Her heels clicked on stone pavers as she moved toward the building’s entrance, flanked on either side by Nate and Sarah.
She had timed it perfectly so their arrival would coincide with the beginning of the funeral. She didn’t want to do any more mingling than necessary. Nell followed Nate as he led them to the line of people waiting to pay their respects to her father.
When it was their turn, Nate approached first, glancing into the casket. “Best you’ve ever looked, Thad. Rest in chaos.” He performed the sign of the cross before moving forward. She and Sarah stepped forward next, Sarah’s hand placed gently on her lower back.
Seeing her father like this was eerie. It was the closest she had physically been to him since that night in her childhood bedroom when he had thrown a suitcase at her, telling her to pack her things and leave. Heavy makeup had been applied, giving his appearance a waxy look as it attempted to mimic a peaceful state of slumber.
She leaned forward so her words could only be heard by him and Sarah. “Hey, Dad,” she whispered. “I would say you look good, but I make it a rule not to give compliments that aren’t true.” She paused, the sentiment she wanted to leave with himon the tip of her tongue, but something stopped her. She looked at Sarah.
“Now’s your chance to say whatever it is you need to say to get your closure,” she encouraged.
Sarah was right. This was her last chance.
“You were wrong, Dad. Wrong to think you could stamp me out of existence for being a strong, queer woman. Wrong to think that exiling me the way you did would make me disappear. I got my stubbornness from you, and I hate to break it to you, Thad, but I’m a dandelion. I can grow even in the most hostile of environments. I hope you enjoyed watching me bloom.”