Page 82 of Love at a Funeral and Other Awkward Conversations

Even though my compass might be a little off, I’ve made it through a storm. I’ve kept my head above water this long; there’s no reason to drown now.

I start my car and drive straight to the one person I need to talk to. I park down a narrow lane in the cemetery, near the spot where my brother is, under a tree that provides some shade. I fold my arms over my chest to keep the cold away as I carefully tread across the browning grass crunching under my boots.

The seasons have changed. Persephone has gone back to the Underworld.

I don’t like the idea of having a spot where people—or, more accurately, former people—are buried under the ground. I’d much rather be lit on fire and set out to sea like a Viking. Nevertheless, if society wants my brother’s bones resting here…I guess there could be worse places.

Two headstones bracket Ray’s, which are already carved with my parents’ names, and there’s absolutely nothing more bizarre than staring into the future. A chill rolls down my spine, and I curl my fingers into a fists so my nails pinch into my skin. The small bit of pain affixes me to the earth, and I remember I’m still alive, even in the face of death.

“Hey, bro,” I say, assuming I should talk instead of just standing here, kicking at the grass around my feet. “Got some nice little pictures here.”

There are a few scribbled pictures on colorful construction paper, held down by a rock in front of his birth date. I notice how clean it looks around the headstone, no weeds or anything, unlike some other burial plots near him. “You mowing the lawn ’round here or what?”

A bird chirps.

“Looks good. I guess.”

Cars pass in the distance.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Pray or something?” I glance around behind me. A gray-haired woman is bent over a grave, her head down. Peeking in the other direction, I notice the American flags, flowers, or other little decorations people have brought to their loved ones. I’m empty-handed.

“What are you gonna do with any of that shit anyway, right?” I say to Ray. I unfold my arms and stand taller, lift my chin like I used to do when I wanted to appear bigger as I argued with him. “Listen, I came here because…because I woke up in a police station this morning. I know you’d probably laugh at me and extort this information for money in exchange for not telling Mom and Dad, but it was awful. Like…everything is really awful. I went to the city yesterday and got bombed because, I guess, I’m so fucking depressed, and I’m… I’m tired of everything being so fucking awful.”

It’s liberating to speak my truth to and about the one person whom I both intensely miss and blame. My words come out faster and louder as I unload everything I’ve been holding in.

“You know, when you were here, it was so much easier for me to be the fuckup because no one cared about me. No one cared about what I did, if I was doing well or not, but now you went and died, and all of a sudden, it matters. I’m trying to keep it together, but how can I when I have to deal with all of this and, and…” I swing my arms around in a circle. “You left me!”

A small part of my brain warns me not to yell in a cemetery, but I don’t care. Ray deserves to hear all of this, and I deserve to say it.

“You died, and Mom and Dad lost their brains. You know how difficult it’s been for me, trying to keep Mom from digging herself a hole next to you? And Dad, he’s a real asshole. I always knew it, but he’s become worse. He’s mean, so fucking mean. And Shayna, she’s going out with some guy named Todd. Todd! Can you believe that? Shayna, who lives in a Pinterest-colored world, has a boyfriend with a generic name like Todd. And the girls are calling him Daddy. I had to defend your honor to her, and all I want to do is hate her, but I come to see you and find out she apparently comes here too because who else would decorate your goddamn final resting place with these ridiculous pink-and-green pinwheels.”

I sniffle and wipe at my eyes, but it’s no use. The floodgates have opened.

“I got fired from my job. I know you hated that I worked there, but it was good money, better than minimum wage, and I got fired because I spent so much time helping out at home. And I’m so fucking mad at you!”

I look up to the sky, whimpering. “And you know what else? Your friend Vince? He’s really great.” It’s hard for me to swallow, my mouth dry even though I can’t stop crying. “He said he loved me, but I can’t believe it. I’m a train wreck, so why would he want me?” I use the cuff of my jacket to wipe my face. “I’m in this catch-22. I want to make my life better, but I can’t, so when I finally get something good, I mess it up.”

I bend down, my hands in my hair. “It doesn’t even make sense. Nothing does, and I’m here talking to a stone. Ugh!”

“Hey.”

I gasp and wheel around at the greeting, falling back on my butt in the process.

Nell extends a hand to help me up. “You okay?”

“Fine.” I stand and brush myself off, about to ask why she’s here, but why wouldn’t she be here? She was in love with my brother.

“You don’t look fine,” she tells me.

I lift my head up, meeting her gaze, and she offers a sympathetic smile and a tissue. I wipe my face then blow my nose before conceding, “I’m not fine.”

She moves closer to me, not touching me but obviously offering comfort. “The first step is to admit it.” When I glare at her, she laughs. “It’s true.”

We stand in silence for a while, me, her, and my brother’s grave. “So…you come here often?”

“Every couple of weeks. I like to bring flowers.” She holds them up as evidence then places them down. “Could use a little color around here.”

I snort in amusement. Nell is actually kind of funny. I watch her fidget with the fall-themed bouquet, placing it so it doesn’t cover anything from Lara and Lucy, while also pushing away any remnants of dried flowers or weeds. She rights herself and smiles at me. “Want me to leave? I can come back if…”

---