Faster We Burn

has a bit of a problem.” Kayla and I lay side by side on the bed, and the guys had to settle for a couple of chairs.
    “I feel like we should be doing something,” Kayla said, yawning. “Like planning flowers or buying an urn, or something.”
    “One thing at a time,” Adam said, leaning forward in his chair. My phone went off again.
    “I’ve got it,” Stryker said, holding out his hand. “I texted them, and they’re all freaking out. I was shocked when we got here and they hadn’t all driven down.”
    “Just tell them that I’m fine. No driving necessary.”
    His fingers went to work and I moved closer to Kayla and took her hand.
    “What are we going to do about Mom?” I said, asking the question none of us knew how to answer.
    “I don’t know. I need to see what the hell I’m supposed to do. I can leave right now. We just need to get through tonight and tomorrow and then we’ll go from there, I guess.”
    How did we do that? How did we go on with our lives now? My life had been a girl with one sister, a mother and a father. That was all I knew how to be. I didn’t know how to be a girl who had lost her father.
     
    ***
     
    I guess I fell asleep at some point, because when I woke, I looked over to find Kayla asleep next to me, our hands still linked. I looked around, and found Stryker and Adam had cleared a place on the floor and were both asleep on piles of my mom’s handmade afghans, Stryker on a Christmas one and Adam on one for Saint Patrick’s Day.
    The basement was dark and there was no noise from upstairs. Stryker had my phone, so I had no idea what time it was and there were no windows in the basement.
    The moment I moved, Kayla woke up.
    “Hey,” she said, wiping her eyes.
    “Hey, do you know what time it is?”
    “No idea,” she said, sitting up and moving her head to stretch out her neck. “Guess it doesn’t matter.”
    No, it really didn’t.
    “Why can’t I cry more?”
    “Everyone deals with things in their own way,” she said, nudging me with her shoulder.
    “When Zack hurt me, I didn’t really cry for that either. Maybe I’m emotionally broken. Maybe I’m one of those people who doesn’t feel empathy.”
    “Okay, I’m going to stop that crazy thought train right now. You’re not a sociopath.” That was the word for it. Stryker made a noise in his sleep and turned over, but didn’t wake up. Adam was softly snoring.
    “You’re just dealing with it in your own way, and that’s okay.”
    “That’s the thing, Kayla. I’m not dealing with it. I still feel like this is one big sick joke, or that this is somehow not true. Because it can’t be true. It just can’t. Other people lose their fathers when they’re my age. Things like this don’t happen to us. They happen to other people.”
    Kayla was quiet for a long time.
    “It feels that way for me too.”
    Oh.
    Stryker rolled again and his green eyes popped open, frantically searching for something until he found my face.
    “Are you okay?”
    “Go back to sleep,” I said, not answering the question. He got up from the floor and sat back in the chair. He looked like shit, which meant that I probably looked worse.
    “Can I get you anything? I’m up now.” It was a lie because he yawned a moment later.
    “No, I’m fine.”
    “That’s such a load of shit,” Kayla said, laughing a little. “We are so not fine.”
    “I know,” I said, and we both laughed like it was the funniest thing ever. We woke Adam up and he looked at Stryker, who shrugged.
    “Everyone has their own way to deal,” he said.
     
    ***
     
    My mother seemed to have flipped a switch while she was sleeping and the next few days she didn’t stop. If she wasn’t organizing Dad’s service or fielding sympathy calls and cards and flowers and casseroles, she was cleaning or picking out clothes for us to wear to the service or meeting with Dad’s lawyer.
    She was so busy she didn’t even have time to notice that Stryker was still here and that we hadn’t spent a night apart.
    Sex was the furthest thing from both of our minds (or at least from his, I supposed), but that didn’t mean we didn’t sleep in the same room. I was never far from him as Mom fluttered around and relatives came and went and I tried to figure out what my life meant without my dad in it.
    I was definitely still in denial. I still hadn’t really cried since that one time at the hospital.
    Everyone said that it was okay, but seriously, it wasn’t. I also