Page 2 of Tears of Glass

“Al had just died. What were you expecting, cartwheels and pompoms?” I’m being a bitch, yet I just can’t rein it back in.

“Yes. I know my dad had died, Faith. That’s not what was wrong.” He pushes his hand through his hair, his muscles tense as he stares at me. “I don’t know why you won’t talk to me. You won’t talk to Abi, either. I hate not being able to help you. I thought everything was fine. You were happy when you left the other week and I found you with His Lordship in here all kissing and...”

I hold my hand up, my fingers shaking. “Stop. Don’t say another word.”

His words bring back an onslaught of memories and I wince around them. Tears sting and my pulse thuds until it rushes in my ears like the sea on sand. “I don’t want to talk about it. Now finish inking me, we’ve got a funeral to go to.”

He hesitates, the concern right there in his eyes; but I don’t want concern, I don’t want pity. Poor Faith, she’s had her heart smashed. Stupid Faith, all those rules to keep herself safe and she still got hurt.

He leans forward until we are almost nose to nose. “Tell me what he did.”

My head shakes so hard it hurts. “No. Just ink me.”

I lay back down and wait. I know I will win our battle of wills.

He sighs switching the machine back on. I close my eyes and concentrate on Al’s funeral in a few hours. Al, the man who was everything to me: uncle, father, and friend is gone.

I won’t let myself think of Elijah, the man who promised me everything and then broke my heart by agreeing to marry someone else.

My chest stings under the black of my shirt. I welcome the pain, drag it in, holding onto it as something real and alive because on the inside I’m goddamn dead.

Of course, it had to rain today. It’s been dry for months. England has been bathed in the longest, driest summer in history. Today, it has to rain.

Dan’s on the sofa at one side of his dad’s lounge. I’m at the other. People are waiting, talking in hushed tones making polite meaningless small talk to pass the time, and I keep glancing at the door.

The last thing I need is my dad turning up. I saw him for the first time in months a couple of weeks ago. To say it didn’t go well is an understatement.

I hate him. Al was more of a father than that man ever was. I grew up with both of them in my life. Al and Dad were business partners for years—friends for longer—until I dropped the bombshell of all bombshells a few years ago and they had to take sides.

Al took mine.

Dad didn’t.

I lean forward and rub at my face. I didn’t bother with makeup, what would be the point? The tears won’t stop falling. Truth is, I no longer know what I’m crying for. Am I crying for Al, a man lost to cancer too soon? Or am I crying for me and the fact that once again I’m alone, but this time facing the world without my champion by my side?

Ten days ago, everything was perfect.

I mean for fuck’s sake, even Channel 4 were talking to me about the possibility of a TV show.

A TV show... and me...

I should have known then it was all a dream.

The sofa dips next to me and Abi sinks down by my side, her arm sliding around my waist. “How you doing, chick?” I give her a wan smile.

“Fine. I just want it to start. It seems like it’s taking forever. We’ve been waiting and waiting.”

“They’ll be here soon, Faith. The hearse isn’t meant to be here for another few minutes.” My stomach lurches and I’m sure I’m going to be sick.

“I’m not talking about waiting for the hearse. I’m talking about everything.” Lifting my eyes, I glance around the room again. Everyone waiting. Expectant. Poised for action. A large percentage of the group gathered have ink on their skin placed there by Al, me, or Dan. Maybe even my dad.

“Have you thought of what you’re going to do after the funeral, Faith?” Abi gives me her don’t shit with me stare and I cringe internally. She’s been letting me coast. Letting me drink excessive amounts of vodka, cry and wallow. But I know my time is close to running out. The sand on the egg timer is running through quicker and quicker and soon she’s going to shit on me from a great height.

It’s easy for her though. Her life is perfect. Across the room is her husband and I know he’s got one eye constantly trained on her.

“Not yet, Abs, don’t lecture me, please.” I’m not going to lie. I’ve had a few vodkas since my session in Dan’s shop. And some painkillers to kill the sting. It’s sad it hasn’t done anything about the ache on the inside.

“I’m not lecturing you, Faith. But at some point soon, you’re gonna have to tell us what happened. Where’s Eli? I thought you guys were a thing; more than a thing, even?”