Page 62 of Falling for Grace

Please don’t come over.

Please don’t come over.

Someone is obviously looking down on me as Brandon simply places his hand on his mother’s shoulder and continues walking. I look down at my shoe again.

“You’re coming back, aren’t you?” Sue asks.

I hesitate and can’t help looking over at Brandon and Ava.

“Of course.” I’ve done nothing wrong, after all. Well apart from just kissing Ava’s boyfriend, let’s just put that to one side. “I’m just going to go and take a moment,” I say. She pats my hand again and kisses me on my cheek, her blue eyes sympathetic.

“Take all the time you need. We won’t go anywhere until you’re ready.”

I smile and rummage in my bag. It’s my turn to hide behind my shades. I walk, head held high, past the other guests, including Brandon and Barbie doll, I mean Ava.

The grounds are beautiful, with perfectly manicured lawns, the grass mowed into perfect lines. A gentle path takes me through the flowerbeds. Plaques with the names of loved ones and small messages of love and remembrance engraved in them lie between the beds. A small bench is perched perfectly underneath a tree looking over the rest of the gardens. I plonk my weary butt onto the cold metal bench, my back to the other funeral guests, so I don’t have to see what’s happening.

The lack of sleep and emotional turmoil are beginning to take their toll. I place my head in my hands.

That’s it, it’s all done. A 45-minute ceremony for a life.

And now we move on.

He chose to leave us behind.

He didn’t have an illness, cancer didn’t take him, he didn’t get hit by a car, he chose to end it. He chose to kill himself, something I never thought he would ever have done. Such a permanent fix for a temporary problem. Because that’s what depression is—temporary. A person can reach their lowest, but they can get better.

It just takes time, a long time.

I’m the living proof of that.

I pulled myself out and I carried on.

Because that’s what we do.

We carry on.

Not knowing why he did it is eating away at me. I have so many unanswered questions. Nothing the Holders have said suggests that he was even mildly depressed, or that anything was wrong. They’ve mentioned that he was suffering from migraines a few times, but that’s it.

So the question still remains.

Why?

Was I somehow the catalyst? Was Brandon right?

I look up and take my sunglasses off, rubbing at my own wrists, remembering how many times dark thoughts overwhelmed me, all the different ways I had thought in my head of how I could end it.

Is that how Danny was feeling? I hate that Danny may have been feeling like that. Was Danny’s attempt just a cry for help gone wrong?

I know Brandon said not to think about the what-ifs, but I feel like I could have helped him

“Grace?”

My back straightens immediately at the sound of the soft voice with the American twang. I don’t turn around. I stay still, taking a breath as I wait for Ava to join me. She comes into view, her patent shoes shining in the sun.

“Yes.” I place my sunglasses back on and look up at her.

“Can I sit?”

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