Page 144 of Secondhand Smoke
Three harsh knocks sounded on the door, and Nell moved to pull away, but Barrett held her tight, not letting her go.
The door opened behind her.
“Time is—” Joe’s voice stopped, and Nell blushed into Barrett’s shirt. “Uh, time’s up. You need to go.”
“One moment, Joe.” Nell could hear the annoyance in Barrett’s voice.
“Sure.” Joe didn’t argue, and the door shut again.
Finally, Barrett pulled back a little bit before pausing to brush a soft peck against her cheek. Nell’s eyes widened, making him laugh as he let her go.
“Whoops,” he said.
Nell couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her.
“You know I meant what I said before, about wanting to be a part of your life. In a year if there’s still room, I’d like a spot.”
“As long as you save me one in yours.”
“Don’t tease me. You know there’s been a spot for you forever.”
“Then see you in nine months?” Nell stuck out her hand.
Barrett shook it, his thumb brushing against Nell’s knuckles. “See you in nine months.”
Epilogue - Nell
1991
Nell laid out the blanket, sat down, and pulled a guitar pick out of her pocket.
“Last one, KC.” She held the pick up toward a slab of stone, the nameKelly Anne Cartercarved into the marble. “I think it’s pretty obvious why I stole this one. You collected picks, and I think you would have liked this one too. I used to imagine you would play your guitar with this, writing songs. You know I loved those.”
Nell paused. She stared at the stone for a long moment, then turned toward the tree sitting beside it, staring up at the leaves fluttering above her in the branches.
This had become one of her favorite spots. Same with the bench in the north corner of the graveyard, and the hill right in the center.
Three different graves in the graveyard that used to petrify her whenever she got even within a mile of them. She’d started coming on the recommendation of her therapist.
When she told him how she’d gotten into the habit of stealing things her friends would have liked, he recommended something: every few weeks, take one of those things and give it to them.
Her mom went with her the first few times. Nell needed someone there holding her hand as she walked to the graves that first day. She couldn’t even see, much less walk straight.
She wasn’t able to get a word out, so she just put the items on the graves and left.
After a couple of months, she was able to say a few things, then her mom was able to stay at the car, then Nell was able to go alone.
Now, two years since she began, Nell found comfort in these spots. Found herself telling stories of the items, sharing where they came from and laughing at the situations she’d put herself in to get them. Sometimes she sat there for hours, in silence. Sometimes only a few minutes.
But today was the last day. Her last items.
“I visited the others today too. Gave Sam a postcard I took from someone’s house, and Minnie got a pink headband that would’ve looked beautiful on her.”
She liked to wait between her sentences, let the breeze blow and the leaves talk. She took a deep breath.
“I have one more thing for you, though.” Nell patted her guitar, which had been patiently waiting next to her. “I’ll borrow your pick for a moment.”
Nell grabbed her instrument and settled it on her lap, strumming the chords softly to make sure it was in tune. Then, when she was ready to start, she began to play the last thing KC had left for her.
