Not unexpectedly, we all seem a little worse for the wear today.
My sister’s sporting puffy bags under her eyes; she tossed and turned next to me all night, and this morning, she pretended like nothing happened.
She was quiet as she got ready for work, and when I offered to drive her, she said yes, instead of insisting she walk.
I’m not going to force her to talk about it, though. She will when she’s ready.
“Thank you, but I promise I’m good. There are a few things I need to do this morning.” I smile, and Fia gets out of the car, name tag in hand.
I roll down the window, and she turns around, her red braid slung over her sweater, cheeks rosy in the chilly morning. “I’ll pick you up when your shift’s over.”
“Thanks, mom.” She sarcastically waves.
Maybe she just needs a little distance from last night. Work will be good for her today.
As for me, Idohave a lot of errands to run.
Usually on Friday mornings in Raleigh, I go to my favorite café downtown to treat myself to a fancy latte, pop in my headphones, and work on business admin stuff. Friday nights usually involve dinner out with friends, cocktails on Audrey’s front porch, or even a date with some guy whose name I forget by the following Monday.
But this town is smaller, and there’s not as much noise to hide behind.
And now that I have a stretch of alone time, I do the thing I should’ve done when I got here. Something I can’t avoid any longer.
Even if doing it breaks my heart.
I take the long and windy road to the cemetery, slowing down because the parking lot always creeps up suddenly. My tires crunch the gravel as I pull in. I park and turn off the car. I’m in no particular rush to walk through the maze of gray headstones.
I’ve shown up empty-handed, unlike most people who visit their loved ones’ final resting place.
Then again, I don’t really see the point in putting flowers on a grave site. Something about it always felt unnecessarily mournful to me. Maybe because I know in a few days, those flowers are just going to wither and die, and the groundskeeper will collect them with all the other bouquets.
My calves burn as I trudge up the grassy knoll, taking a shortcut to avoid other people. When I finally spot Nan’s granite headstone at the end of a long row, a sigh of relief rolls through me. Perhaps I needed this more than I realized.
It’s silent here, save for the sound of the wind gently blowing the evergreens that surround this place. But a tightness crawls up my throat—the same one that always greets me when I come here. I ignore it and I kneel at her grave site, rubbing my palms on my jeans.
“Hey, Nan,” I start, glancing around and biting my lip. I never know how to address her like this. “It’s been a while.”
A chilly wind blows my hair in my face, and I notice a few bundled up people in the distance carrying flowers. I pull my attention back to the gravestone.
Still so new looking.
Nan was only sixty-eight when she was taken from us, and it seems cruelly unfair. She only retired a year before, and we were all so excited for her to finally get a break and enjoy a slower life. She deserved so much after giving everything she had to raise me and my siblings.
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring flowers.” A pitiful laugh escapes me. I scoot closer to the stone and turn around, resting my back against it. It feels steady and strong, like her. This is how I used to sit against her chest when I was younger. Even before my mom and dad left, Nan was always the one I ran to. She was the family pillar. When my parents decided a new life somewhere without their three children would be better, Nan didn’t blink an eye. She stepped in, taking their place and showing us all true strength.
She was always smiling, too. And usually decked out in her favorite color—yellow.
“I don’t know where to start, so I’m just going to update you,” I begin, playing with the stack of gold bracelets around my wrist. “Fia’s pregnant, and Jesse’s back.” It slips off my tongue and keeps pouring out of me. “I could use some of your strength right now.”
A single tear, hot and thick, rolls down my cheek. I curse at myself, wiping it on my coat sleeve.
I hate crying.
I hate it so much, yet the tears are leaking from me, and I’m defenseless against my own body.
“Fia’s going to be a mom, and I don’t know how to help her.” I inhale a rattled breath. “I’m trying, but I’m ill-equipped for this. I want her to sell the house, because that seems like the right choice. Is it?” I ask, waiting for an answer that won’t come.
“I’m trying to get through to her, Nan, I really am, but she won’t listen to me.” I pull my legs in closer to my body, so small you wouldn’t be able to see me on the other side of the stone. “She’s stubborn.” I hiccup a small laugh. “She acts like everything’s okay, but deep down I know she’s scared, because I’m scared, too. I know it’s all going to come to a head, and I don’t know what to do when it does.” The confession is heavy on my shoulders, and they shudder.
