Ambrose:
I doubt anyone is there now.
Annabelle:
You could ask Dollie.
She’s having a hard day.
I glance into the reading room where Dollie catches up on some reading before moving off that way and leaving my untouched drink behind.
Jane Eyre, chapter twenty-seven. I catch a glimpse when she sets her book down. The golden glow from the light overhanging her torments me, but it makes it easy to see where she is in the book. She’s finally caught up.
“Where did you come from?”
I point to the kitchen over my shoulder, then drop my phone into my jeans pocket.
“I didn’t see you come down.”
I say nothing because I’ve not told her about the walls since reuniting, and I’m not sure she ever believed me in childhood. I’d mentioned it once, and a second later, she was talking about something else.
I’m gonna try the cemetery again. Do you want to come? Or are you not allowed to go anywhere with me?
“It’s late.”
Fine. I’ll lock the door.
I’m halfway down the hill to my car when her voice calls to me through the wind. I careen, finding her slipping into her sneakers at the door.
“Can you wait for me?” She struggles with her laces, trying to get her shoes on and keep the dog inside at the same time.
I make my way back up to help with Bubbles, and then I’m the one to lock the door.
She walks in my shadow the whole way down the hill, hating the pitch-black darkness as we rush through it to get into my car.
It’s a quiet ride to the cemetery, neither of us saying anything as we drive past homes with their lights out. On the outskirts of town, a new clown has appeared on the side of a building, beneath a glowing streetlight.
The terrible graffiti is the first I’ve seen in weeks. There’s been a significant decrease since Dollie’s arrival home, but clearly, someone doesn’t care about that.
Her chin tucks into her neck, and her eyes close, avoiding the sight.
“We forgot the flowers,” she says, her eyes still closed.
Doesn’t matter to me. Coming here today wasn’t about bringing flowers. It was about spending time with our parents on the day that stole them from us.
Light rain appears on the windshield as I roll to a stop. The wipers clear the view, and I see the brass gates blocking us from going farther.
There are only ten minutes left until the day is over.
I kill the engine, eyeing up the fence, knowing I have to get inside.
“We can’t.”
We can.
“You think I can scale a fence?” Dollie looks at me.
If I can with a dodgy leg, you definitely can.
