Page 81 of The Suit

“I’ll tell him,” I replied.

“Okay, and what about Feather?”

I groaned; I’d forgotten about the almost bigger problem I had right now. “Just avoid him until I’m back. Tell him I’m on the other line or something.”

He tutted. “Not sure that’ll work, but I’ll deal with it. Beulah, one last thing,”

“Yeah?”

“Do I need to be worried?”

I took a deep breath. “No, no. Everything is fine, it’ll be fine.”

I tried to believe the words, but in truth I wasn’t sure.

I had no idea what I was doing.

Or what I was going to do. What I needed to do.

“Alright, I’ll text you if anyone comes by. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Blake. I appreciate it.”

He hung up, but not before I heard a concerned‘hmmm’.

Before I could talk myself out of it once more, I opened the door and got out.

The soft grass cushioned my feet as I carefully stepped between the plots, past the candles and flowers and stuffed teddies. The blossoms on the trees were falling in the light morning breeze, spreading out a soft pink carpet underneath, and the birds chirping loudly at each other completed the serenity of my surroundings, not any way in keeping with the churning turmoil taking place amongst every cell in my body.

I wondered how many people had been sick while walking through here, totally unable to cope with the stockpile of emotions on a tsunami-like path through their veins until they vomited it out in between the shiny white headstones.

Would I be the first, or just the first of the day?

Then there they were.

Jackson, Muscot, and Santa’s names all carved out on their own individual stones.

I remember Santa helping me pick Jackson’s, even though I’d only been twelve. She’d explained to me what it was and so I’d insisted that, along with his name and his birthday, there should be a carving of a little monkey, his favorite animal from the time we went to the St. Louis Zoo. He’d said it reminded him of me.

Nine years later I hadn’t known any different, so I kept it all the same. Muscot had the Scales of Justice carved into his, while Santa had a heart – because she’d had the biggest heart of anyone I’d ever met.

A small vase of peonies had been placed in front of Santa’s headstone, her favorite flower. Now I was closer, the area around their gravesdidlook well kept; the grass was trimmed, the headstones appeared recently cleaned, and those flowers were fresh. I couldn’t remember what level of service I’d paid for – or instructed the executor to pay for - but I was pretty sure I hadn’t gone into detail about the peonies, which meant someone who knew them was visiting here regularly.

Guilt and happiness started warring in my head, then my heart. The first time I’d visited in ten years, and I hadn’t brought flowers. It hadn’t even occurred to me.

I stood there, staring down at them while my eyes got hotter, and my throat started thickening. Because I hadn’t planned to come here, I also hadn’t planned anything to say. I hadn’t even thought ahead to this point, where I’d be standing over them.

I winced as my two of my fingers cracked loudly, though I was in danger of tugging them off from the way I was worrying at my hands.

What the fuck did people do here? What did they say?

I was no closer to the answer five minutes later, but I plopped myself down on the ground and began tracing my fingers around the little monkey.

“Do you remember that day, Jacko?”

Not sure why I waited for a response. I crossed my legs under me before tearing at the short blades of grass.

“Yeah, remember? It was your birthday.”

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