Page 122 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

I grab takeout for myself and plan to call it an early night when the urge to visit Ma hits me out of nowhere. Normally, the thought of going to her grave has nausea rolling through my gut, but after talking to Connor I feel anxious, and for some reason I feel like talking to Ma is what I need to calm the nerves.

Still, when I make it to the cemetery my legs are dead weight. Sickness swirls in my stomach and an ache cracks open my chest at the thought of being near the dead, rotted corpse that used to be my ma.

I force my heavy limbs to move, one step at a time. I physically count them as I walk to her marker.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

I’m at fifty-seven when I finally look up. A halo of honey hair, so similar to my own, is bowed in front of Ma’s marble slab.

My heart kicks my chest, bruising me from the inside out.

Lee.

52

Eli

The grass crunches underneath my feet as I walk toward Lee, my throat swelling with all the things I want to say. And all the things I don’t.

My nerves are so tangible I’m surprised she hasn’t felt them. They expel from my body like fireworks, shooting through my fingertips and ricocheting off the ground.

I clear my throat as I sit beside her, ignoring the way the contents of my stomach whirl and tumble from sitting on top of Ma’s remains.

Lee’s body stiffens, but she stares straight ahead, not sparing me a glance.

Aesthetically, the cemetery is quite pleasing. But there’s grief in the air. It’s thick, and it sticks to your bones, until you feel the weight of a hundred broken souls bleeding out their sorrow.

There are pink tulips on both sides of the marble slab. They were her favorite, and my stomach tightens, wishing like hell I would have thought to pick some up on the way.

Stupid.

Even when she was alive, I always missed out on the things that made her smile.

Being here makes me reflect on the past, and maybe that’s part of why it’s so hard for me to come. Because when I show up, so do the memories.

“When I was about ten,” I start.

Lee jumps, finally giving me her attention.

“Ma brought me to the basketball court that’s on the side of the church… right over there.” I twist and point across the lot where you can vaguely make out faded concrete and an old, torn up net. “I couldn’t understand why she’d brought me here of all places, when we had a perfectly good hoop in our drive.” I shake my head, chuckling slightly. “Even back then this cemetery freaked me out.”

“It did?” Lee asks, her voice hoarse.

“Yeah, still does.” I nod. “It wasn’t until we were almost all the way back to the car when Ma dropped the real reason we were here. To visit MeeMee and Paw.”

Both of our grandparents passed when we were young, and Lee doesn’t remember them. I do, but barely. Just foggy smiles and stories told through Ma. She visited their graves weekly, but we rarely went with.

“I remember looking at each headstone as we passed, gripping my basketball tight while I imagined who each person was. The life they lived…” I swallow. “Whether they had a chance to grow into everything people expected, or if they died a disappointment.”

“Dang, Eli. That’s depressin’.”

I shrug. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true. That’s always been my biggest fear, you know?”

---