Page 125 of Dead Love
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We sataround the fire until the early morning. A few charred chunks were leftover, so we brought them inside the funeral home and finished them off in the crematory. Then we pulverized the fragments. Once we boxed the granules in an old vase, we took them in the car and headed out.
The police stopped us for questioning. In the chaos, it seemed like the sheriff and the captain had disappeared, and now, there were suspicions that the two of them had started the fires as a ploy to play heroes and get more votes. But when it had gotten out of hand, they left town.
I didn’t think they suspected us, and once we got rid of the ashes, it wouldn’t matter. We would probably have totrulyget rid of the cars, but after that, we would be okay.
Vincent drove us to the far end of downtown, a few blocks away from the flower shop, to a plot of land. There was a styrofoam cup, a burger wrapper, and a few dandelions. It reminded me of the lot next to Poppies & Wheat before Nyla and I had spread wildflower seeds in it.
“What is this?” I asked.
He showed me an email on his phone.Offer, Lot 20809, Downtown Punica.I raised a brow.
“It’s not official yet, but the realtor is hopeful,” he said.
“You’re opening up a new funeral home?” I asked.
“Your greenhouse.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Or, whatever you want.”
I stared at it, seeing the possibilities. As a piece of flat land, the lot seemed so small, but with time and structure, it could be bigger than anything I had dreamed of. It was hard to imagine.
“I was thinking you could call it Spring Renewal,” he said. “I guess it’s the whole transformation of it.” He kicked the cup further into the lot. “Trash to beauty.”
He put his hands behind his head, unsure of himself, knowing that the gesture was a strange one. I reached up on my tip-toes and kissed him.
“Wecan call it Spring Renewal,” I said. My heart swelled with warmth. “I love it.”
That night, we drove down Willow Highway to 52 Peaks. Every so often, we parked on the side of the road and spread more ashes. Little grains of bone dusted the asphalt, then mixed with the dirt in the forest. At the club, the parking lot was empty, but the music still blasted through the building. I had no desire to go inside, but I could almost feel Nyla there. I could see why she loved it.
We let out the last handful of sand, letting it swirl with the wind.
In the car, the radio turned to the news:Local law enforcement agencies are baffled at the disappearance of Sheriff Mike Nova and Captain Andrew Pompino. It appears that there may have been some connection between the arson attacks and the Echo deaths. Mayor Renolds has asked the county commissioner to put the election on hold—
I turned off the radio. Vincent turned to me.
“Has your mother called?” he asked.
I shook my head. “But I’m not going to give up on my mother.”
“I would never ask you to do that.”
A weight lifted from my stomach. So much had changed about us. And yet, there was still a tracking chip in my arm, but I knew that if I wanted, I could get that removed too. The difference now was that Vincent trusted me. And I trusted him. I loved him, more than I had known was possible.
In Quiet Meadows, we crept through the empty hallways, back to the cemetery. We sat with our feet dangled in our grave, holding hands, talking about nothing, until finally, I slipped inside the plot.
“Come here,” I said.
Vincent shook his head. “What are you doing?”
“Come join me!” I laughed.
He set the ladder to the side of the plot, then slid in too, and as soon as our feet were level on the ground, he pressed me to the side of the wall and kissed me. Clumps of dirt fell around us, ruining the perfection he had sculpted, and I loved it even more. Maybe one day I would be buried here. Maybe he would be buried here too. But right then, all I wanted were his lips on mine. His hands raked through my short hair, I dug my fingernails into his back, and the dogs barked to the sides of us, rounding the grave in a flurry of excitement.
The moon lit the cemetery in a tender light, and his lips were violent and yielding.One day, you’ll wake up and you’ll realize none of this matters,he had said,I promise.His black eyes had held me then, looking deep inside of my soul, as if he could see the future. As if he could see us.
And he had kept that promise. None of my worries mattered anymore.
Vincent
