All This Time(17)

Only, of course, today it feels like a block.

Too soon the wrought iron gates come into view, big trees casting shade over the sea of gravestones, a heavy sadness in the drooping branches. I slow down as I walk along the path, taking in each headstone while I put off my destination. Mothers, fathers, sons, grandparents. Even kids.

Fuck, I do not want to be here.

Some of the plots are carefully maintained, fresh flowers looping around the stone, trinkets from friends and loved ones placed underneath.

Others are overgrown, no one left to look after them.

Will Kim’s grave be okay? I sure as hell hope so. While I don’t mind looking uncared for, I don’t think I could stomach seeing anything of hers that way.

I wouldn’t want it looking like… well… like this one.

I stop to study a small headstone with dead ivy crawling over the corners, the inscription just a single word: GOODBYE. No name, no date, nothing.

Damn, that’s sad. My head sears with pain and I have to steady myself, squinting at the individual letters, both of the o’s, the e, until the burning slowly starts to pass.

I wonder what kind of person a headstone like this belongs to. If anyone even remembers them.

When all of the pain dissipates, I pull a purple flower from the bouquet in my hands and place it carefully on the lonely headstone. I don’t really know why I do it, but it just seems like someone should. Especially since the grave next to it is surrounded by a sea of pink flowers growing as far as the plot allows. The big triangular petals are vivid and eye-catching. I really don’t know how I didn’t see it first.

I lightly touch one of the flowers. I think I recognize them from my mom’s garden. She tried growing them a few years ago, their smell strong enough to waft through our kitchen window on summer mornings.

But what were they called?

I’m about halfway through the alphabet of the dozen flowers I do know when I realize how hard I’m delaying.

I urge myself along. Come on, Kyle.

I continue on the path for a few more steps, my mind drifting from those pink flowers to the GOODBYE headstone. Something about it feels wrong. Why exactly? I’m so in my head that I almost miss it.

KIMBERLY NICOLE BROOKS. REST IN PEACE.

The wind is knocked right out of me.

Her plot isn’t overgrown or neglected. In fact, there’s a massive bouquet of blue tulips already there, the color rich enough to hold a twinge of lilac at the base of the even petals.

Blue tulips.

I look down at the irises in my hand. Shit. Blue tulips were definitely her favorite. I can hear her now, telling me that she loved them because they matched her eyes.

Irises were just the first flowers I ever got her. If Kim were here, she’d refuse to talk to me for the rest of the day. Or the week if she was feeling especially salty about it.

God, I loved her, but I hated when she did that.

Love her, I correct myself. I will always love her. What the fuck is wrong with me thinking about that right now?

I put my sad bouquet of irises next to the tulips, and my hand finds the coarse gray stone. My fingers trace her name, the past few months leading to this moment.

“Kim…”

I stop, placing my whole hand on the headstone, all of the feelings I’ve kept bottled up hitting me at once. I can’t do it. I can’t be here. Not yet.

But I take a deep breath and try to start again.

“I… I don’t believe this.” I shake my head, throat burning. “I can’t believe it. But I face it every single day when I wake up and you’re not here.”

There’s a stab of pain in my temple, radiating out from a single point, almost sizzling. I rub it with my fingertips and fight to continue.

“If I could do it over, I wouldn’t have gotten so angry at the party,” I say finally. “I wouldn’t have forced that conversation in the car. I would have listened when you said you wanted…”

To turn around and not see me there. I swallow, her words echoing around my head. They still hurt, but it’s a softer pain than what I’m used to.

And this isn’t about my pain.

“I would have given you the time apart that you wanted. I would have… I would have let you drive,” I say with a harsh chuckle. “You would have definitely laughed at that,” I say, almost hearing the sound from somewhere just out of view. Almost.

I open my mouth again, wanting to say so much, but the thoughts devolve into a jumble of words and sadness, too messy to string together. I tighten my grip on the headstone, everything building and building until my broken brain finally erupts. A sharp, stabbing pain courses through my temple as tiny flashes of light radiate inward from the corner of my eye.

Holy fuck.

“Once upon a time there was a boy…,” a voice says from behind me, the words soft enough, gentle enough, to send a scattering of goose bumps up my arm.

At first, through the fog of pain, I think it’s Kim. Another hallucination. But the voice isn’t hers.

I turn quickly, expecting to see someone, but I’m met only with the rustling trees. My vision blurs, then clears. Pain bounces behind my eyes, so I slam them shut, rubbing my temples until it fades enough for me to reach into my pocket and pull out a Tylenol bottle.

I struggle with the child-lock lid before I finally free two pills into my palm and dry swallow them.