Page 29 of Breaking Point

I salute them both goodbye, heading for the parking garage across the market square. When I straddle my bike, strapping my gear down and throwing my helmet on, I’m glad for the familiar purr of the engine as it roars to life beneath me.

With the morning fog hanging low over the city, veering onto the highway takes longer than usual. Cars are slow to change lanes, but I know this drive like the back of my hand.

There’s a certain thrill to riding. The wind at my back, the engine humming beneath my hands. Years before I had my car, I used to bike everywhere. I’ve always enjoyed the speed.

I pull off the highway and cut across a pasture onto the rocky path toward the cemetery. The path is on the longer side of a few miles, but the rusted gate comes into view before too long.

Fairview Memorial.

I park, leaving my helmet in favor of swinging my backpack over my shoulder. It's been years since the hinges rusted shut, so I hop over the side.

Two hills of gravestones are separated by a worn trail of yellowing grass in between. Rain has hollowed out a ditch in the soil, finding her grave at the cusp of both hills. It’s the newest stone in a worn coliseum of gray and blackened granite.

I come to a stop in front of her, looking down at the dried flowers and overgrown ivy swallowing her name. I kneel, tearing away the weeds and scraping the dirt away to reveal it:

Winter Dean Augustine. Loving daughter, soul finally at rest.

The fog is much too dense now, but I know the sun is there, hiding, like she always hoped. For a few moments, I settlein, feeling the earth beneath my knees. Words are caught in my throat, but I force them out anyways.

“It’s been a while,” I start.

It’s been too long since I visited. Even longer since I’ve felt the need to talk to her. But… It’s time.

“I, uh… I started that job recently. The one you’d have told me to take a while ago if you were here.” I nearly laugh because I can just picture the conversation we’d have. “At least, I like to think you would, but…”

The truth is that I don’t know what she’d do if she were here. If she were alive, I’d be obsessed.Consumed, just like I used to be. Too consumed, probably, to want anything other than her.

Even if I wanted things for myself.

Even if Ineededthem.

“I think I’ve spent a lot of time loving you these past few years… and a lot of time thinking about what it would be like if you were here.”

And not nearly enough time thinking about what I want from life.

“It’s heavy,” I say on an exhale, reminded of the chain around my neck. I unclasp it, and the ring falls into my palm. The silver glitters, diamonds flashing in the light. It’s the ring I never got to give her.

I’d like to think I was waiting for the right moment to propose… but I’ve thought long and hard about whether or not I was ready to be married. Whether it was right. I think part of me knew it wasn’t.

I loved Winter the way the moon loves the sun. Every night, the moon basks in the sun’s warmth, longing for the moment when it can shine again. But the moon can’t shine without the sun. And I couldn’t shine without her. For the first year after her death, it almost killed me.

“It’s time for me to let go,” I whisper, and as I say it, the chain slides until the ring is in my fingertips.

I could sell it- probably use the money for something meaningful. But I don’t have the heart to. Whether I would’ve married her or not, whether she was alive or not, I know I don’t want to keep living with the regret ofwhat if.

“You were meant to have this, and I’d like to think that you have it,” I laugh to myself as I place the chain just over her name. For a long moment, words are beyond me.

Minutes inch by… and finally…

“Goodbye, Winter.”

It must be several more minutes before I’m able to stand.

I take the long path back, taking my time weaving between the rows of graves and tombstones. When I hop the fence and find my bike, I take one last look between the two hills where fog disappears into the cleft. I can almost hear her goodbye in the wind.

I smile, feeling lighter than I have in a long time.

Chapter Fourteen

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