CHAPTER 136: November

POV: Avalon Pierce

November arrived cold and fast.

The Lorraine Pierce Infrastructure Fund was officially launched by the foundation on the third of the month. It was a low-key affair, with no formal ceremony to mark the occasion. Instead, the foundation simply sent out an email to its community partners and created a new page on its website. The content for the page was written by Selene, while Maya handled the design. Amara, meanwhile, reviewed the page three times to make sure everything was just right.

Kevin Walsh called that afternoon.

"I saw the announcement," he said.

"Applications are opening on Monday," Selene said, her voice coming through the speaker as Avalon busied himself making coffee in the kitchen. "You've got all the necessary stuff, so you're good to go."

"Kevin said he's had the application ready to go for about six weeks now."

She laughed.

Avalon had never heard her laugh on a work call before.

The Nexus board met on the seventh. It was a routine check, the numbers were good.

Later on, Robert Chen took him to one side in the hallway.

"You seem different," Robert said.

"Different how."

It's more like you're not expecting everything to fall apart at any moment.

Avalon thought about that.

"I'm not," he said. 

"What are you waiting for."

"Nothing," Avalon said. " I'm just here."

Robert looked at him.

"Alright," he replied, and headed back into the meeting room.

Selene's appointment on the twelfth was brief.

Good news delivered efficiently, they are on track and she has to be back in three weeks.

They drove home and didn't say much.

Neither needed to.

Maya stopped by on the 15th and brought over some wedding photos. They were printed, in an envelope. 

She spread them across the kitchen counter.

The garden. The lights. Kofi's face when she walked toward him.

"This one," Selene said, pointing.

They swayed to the music, her cheek resting gently against his shoulder, his eyes drifting shut as he let the rhythm wash over him.

"I didn't know someone took that," Maya said.

"Amara," Selene said.

Maya picked it up and looked at it.

She set it aside and went on to the next thing.

They stood at the counter for an hour going through photographs and saying very little and Avalon sat at the table and read and listened to his wife and her sister exist in the same space the way they always had, since before anyone else was part of the picture.

The twentieth was a Sunday.

He woke early. Made coffee. Read.

She appeared at eight.

They spent the morning not doing much.

She said it was time to go to Elena's grave, so they set out at noon.

He looked up.

"Okay," he said.

"You don't have to come."

"I want to," he said.

The cemetery was quiet on a Sunday.

They stood side by side, gazing at the small memorial Selene had set up after getting the news from Dr. Ruth. It was plain, with just a name, a date, and a short phrase underneath that read: "Gone But Not Forgotten". The words seemed to echo through the silence, a poignant reminder of what they had lost.

She was here and held.

Selene had chosen those words herself.

Avalon stood beside her, silent, because some moments just don't need words.

As she stood there, she eventually lowered herself down, her body folding into a crouch, and then she placed the palm of her hand flat against the cold, rough stone.

She stayed like that for a moment then stood up.

"Okay," she said.

They walked back to the car.

She didn't say a word for a long time as they drove home, the silence between them was pretty noticeable.

 “I tried to push thoughts of her away, but it was hard because remembering her was still really painful.” Selene said.

"And now," he said.

"The pain is still there," she admitted. "But somehow, it's shifted - it feels almost like love now, rather than just a deep sadness. I'm not even sure when that happened, or how I started to see it that way."

He kept his eyes on the road.

"Perhaps it was when you finally stopped shouldering the burden by yourself," he said.

She looked at him.

He kept driving.

She turned back to the window.

As they made their way back into the neighborhood, the city came into sight again, looking just as familiar as it was uninterested in their return, a place that was entirely their own.

"Thank you for coming," she said.

"Always," he said.

Her hand rested gently on top of his, their fingers intertwining briefly as they both grasped the gearshift.

I just left it there for the rest of the trip back home.