The Table

Jackson walks back through towards me. Turning on the kettle, he grabs two cups.

“She doesn’t want to do anything. She said it is up to the team to plan his funeral.”

As I thought, she does not care about him at all, not even now in his death.

“I want to help with the funeral.”

Maybe helping will help me. I don’t even know if it will but surely it is worth a try? Jackson hands me the cup of tea. Walking to the sofa, we sit, his arm around me.

“I don’t want you to be strong for me, Alena. Yes, I am hurting, a lot, but seeing you broken is what is keeping me going. I can’t be weak when you need me.”

I don’t even know what to say anymore. I just want to hide away.

“Whatever you want, Alena. Whatever you need to get you through this, I will do.”

I don’t even know what I want or need right now.

“Marcus mentioned a plan for that night, something for me. What exactly was it?” Maybe knowing this will help. Maybe it won’t but I won’t know until I ask.

“Well, I heard you talking to hi