Chapter 2 - The Barricaded Gates
Planning a child's funeral is an unnatural act. You are forced to pick out a casket the size of a coffee table and choose which of her favorite stuffed animals will accompany her into the dark. I chose Mr. Hops. I couldn't bear the thought of Lily being lonely.
The service was held three days later at the Vance family estate, a sprawling property heavily guarded by iron gates and stone walls. It was a grey, weeping morning. The sky seemed to mirror the absolute desolation in my chest.
Julian tried to come.
As the reverend was reciting the final prayers over Lily’s grave, a commotion erupted at the front gates. Through the barren oak trees, I could see Julian’s silver Porsche parked haphazardly on the curb. He was screaming at the security guards, rattling the iron bars, demanding to be let in to see his daughter’s burial.
I stood under a black umbrella, leaning heavily on the arm of Dr. Evan Hayes, the brilliant pediatric cardiovascular surgeon who had fought for twelve hours straight trying to save Lily’s life. Evan had stayed by my side through the darkest hours of my life, a silent, steady anchor.
“Do you want me to have them call the police?” Evan asked softly, his eyes filled with a protective rage.
“No,” I said, my voice hollow. “Let him scream.”
My father, standing on my other side, tapped an earpiece. “Make sure he stays exactly where he is until the service is over,” Richard ordered his security detail. “Let him watch from the outside. It’s where he belongs.”
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Through the heavy wrought iron, Julian watched as the small white casket was lowered into the earth. He fell to his knees in the wet gravel, sobbing uncontrollably. But watching his tears brought me no comfort. They were the tears of a narcissist who had finally realized the play was over, and he was no longer the star.
When the service concluded, I turned away from the grave and walked back toward the main house. I didn't look back at the gates. Julian was a ghost to me now.
