Blindness(94)

“It’s okay. Wasn’t really planned, just sorta something I need to do…if that makes sense?” I say, sniffling away my leftover emotions. I walk over to him and wrap my hand around his folded arms, forcing him to look at me. His muscles tense at my touch, his body somehow becoming even stiffer. He recoils, and my stomach sinks knowing how badly I’ve hurt him.

“You flying out with me? I can move our time if you need,” Trevor asks, but he knows what I’m going to say. He won’t even lift his head to make eye contact with me.

“I’m going home with Cody,” I say, knowing my words are killing him. He nods and chews at the inside of his cheek.

“Right,” he says with a false laugh, lifting his head once to smile at me, but it’s all acting. I can see the pain underneath. “Well…maybe…I can come along, just until you guys get through this?”

“That’d be nice,” I say, and I can feel Cody deflate behind me, but he fights against showing it to Trevor, instead forcing his lips into a tight-lipped smile.

“She could use the support. Thanks, man,” Cody says, and I can see his words rub against Trevor’s grain, his shoulders rolling at his words.

“Yeah, I guess you know what she needs…” Trevor mumbles, just loud enough for me to hear. I’m grateful Cody’s too far.

Trevor says he’ll follow us, and Cody opens the door for me to get in, closing it gently behind me. I watch him walk around his truck, his eyes on his brother as he walks down the driveway, and I see a flash of regret cross his face. He tucks it back inside when he climbs in next to me, but I know it’s there. It makes my heart hurt, knowing the irreparable rift I’ve no doubt left behind.

The drive to the cemetery is short, only a few blocks away from the precinct. Every building between Mac’s home and his final resting place is marked by a memory—and they hit me like punches as we drive along the side street. My grade school, the bus stop, the park where we used to look at the stars when the moon was full, and the road to the convenience store—the final road. The end. I’m shaking by the time we arrive, but I fold my arms tightly across my body—I don’t want Cody to see how weak I am, to feel like this is too much—because I need to do this.

It’s time.

We park along the roadway, and Trevor pulls in behind us. I don’t wait for them. This is something I have to do alone. I’m glad they’re here to pick me up if I can’t make it. I also know if I can’t bring myself to see Mac—his name on some cold stone I picked out from a catalogue the police chaplain shoved in front of me and the bare dirt patch that covers what’s left of him—then I will always be broken.

I know the path. He’s buried along with several other officers near a special statue that the city erected in their honor. His burial was free—as if that’s supposed to somehow make it better. That’s one of the perks to being an officer—when you leave this earth way too early, the city ponies up for a mid-range coffin and some flowers.

My throat starts to close up the closer I get, but I keep pushing my feet forward. I have to do this. I have to do this. I can see the top of the stone, and I notice the M right away. His grave is covered in flowers. I know Caroline brings a new bouquet every Saturday, but there are so many more. My father was beloved by his department—beloved by anyone he ever let in. It usually took a while to wear him down, but after twenty years in the same town, protecting the same people, eating the same pies at the same diner, and getting his hair cut by the same barber—well, Mac had managed to build quite a family of fans, even if they all drove him crazy.

Cody’s hands are on my shoulders, and that’s when I notice I’m on my knees. My face is soaking with my tears. I’ve been crying silently for minutes, just looking at his name and thinking about all of the things he’s going to miss, and I can feel my stomach clenching with anger. I picture the face of his killer, and I scream and push my fingernails deep into the grass, ripping up chunks and throwing them at the grave.

“Daaaaddddy!” I scream, my hands covered in dark soil. Cody’s reaching around my stomach and lifting me back up to my feet, and I turn into him on instinct, nestling my face deep into his chest and wailing for minutes, choking as I struggle to breathe. Cody doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. He just keeps me locked in his arms, as he lets me feel.

We’re at Mac’s grave for almost an hour, and I’m weak when we leave. Cody reaches his arm under mine, supporting most of my weight as we walk back to the roadway. I can tell he’s tired—his limp is heavy, and it makes us slow. Trevor doesn’t help—he stays far behind, but he stays. We get to Cody’s truck, and he opens his door for me to climb inside. I pull my knees up and turn sideways, leaning my face along the torn vinyl of his seat, and Cody reaches up to wipe the leftover tears from my face with his sleeve. He grazes my lip with the pad of his thumb and smiles tenderly before he shuts my door.

My body is limp—my chest is heavy, and my breathing is labored, but my insides feel strangely empty. I feel lighter, like I’ve been holding onto a sickness for years and finally found relief. It doesn’t feel natural, and I keep taking a deep breath—a full breath—to make sure it’s real.

Cody’s walking around the front of the truck, but he stops to pull his phone out of his pocket, and I can see him struggling to hear whomever is on the other end, stuffing his finger in his ear and pacing a few steps from the truck. He hasn’t talked to Gabe or Jessie since we left, and I’m sure they’re worried.