Let Her Go (girlxgirl) (lesbian story)

Chapter Sixty-nine

Robyn

"I can't go out there," I hissed, "they hate me. It'll be sacrilege."

"This is for Sabastienne," Zoey soothed, brushing invisible lint from my dress.

"She wouldn't want me to upset her family."

"But she would want you there and you know it." Grabbing me firmly by the elbow, she marched us from the bathroom into the huge chamber of a church ... cathedral? I didn't know. I couldn't tell them apart, even though I'd been told multiple times. More important things were worrying me right now.

Speaking of, there was a quiet hush in the building: everyone else was already outside.

"Hurry," I hissed as we rushed between gravestones.

"I am," Zoey snapped. Annoyance flickered in my throat but I suffocated it. Zoey had been beside me every single second and I would not allow my grief to become anger towards her. At everyone else sure, but not her.

We arrived at the congregation. Most were seated but some still stood, speaking somberly; nothing appeared to have begun and no one noticed us arrive.

"I think we got away with that one," Zoey whispered as we took two seats at the back. I made a noise of agreement, fingers drumming against the chair. It was made of black metal, tied across the back with white ribbon in a bow, to symbolise hope in the darkest times, or Sabastienne's light in even this hardest of struggles. I snorted. There was no hope and the fucking light had gone with her to wherever she was now. I hope it's beautiful there, baby. Remember me.

I glanced around, trying to distract myself. We were surrounded by strangers, all speaking fluent Russian, all dressed up to the nines. I looked down at my own black dress and wondered if it was too plain.

Seriously? This was her fucking funeral and I was thinking about my dress! Could I be any more self-absorbed? What the fuck was wrong with me!?

Zoey laid a hand on my knee and squeezed, "Stop that. I can see you beating yourself up."

"I deserve it."

She brushed a tear from my cheek, fingertips soft and gentle, "You don't and this won't solve anything." Seeing my disbelief, she continued, "It's hard enough under normal circumstances, it'll be twice as difficult if you won't give yourself a break. Sabastienne wouldn't want you doing that."

"Stop saying shit like that," I said. "This ... situation doesn't mean you're allowed to put words in her mouth."

"All right. I'm sorry," said she. "But think about what I said, okay?"

"Sure, whatever you want."

I guess you could say keeping my temper wasn't going exceedingly well. So what? I was allowed to be a cunt. How's that for giving myself a break?

Suddenly Dominika appeared, saying, "Why are you sitting all the way back here? Come with me. Friends are up front." She shot us both a supportive smile, but held my eyes a second longer, communicating. I instantly understood that I was a friend and nothing more. If that was what they wanted, I'd play along. Our relationship didn't need anyone's validation. Zoey and I followed her wordlessly to the front and filled the final two seats in the second row. They'd been reserved for us which was surprising since her parents had only met us a week ago and hadn't known any of our names then.

A man said something in Russian, his voice projected by a microphone, and I began to pay attention; around and behind me, the previously muttering crowd fell silent. The man delivered the first few sentences of his speech before I glanced warily at Zoey: guess we should've realised the whole thing would be in a language we couldn't understand.