Page 93 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

I swallow through the knot in my throat.

“I’ve been doing something. Something I’ve kept from Mom and everyone else because I think deep down, I am ashamed of it even though I logically know I’m not doing anything wrong. It’s actually how Rachel and I finally got together. But now, it’s the thing that is breaking us apart.”

Shattering us, actually.

When something breaks, you can put it back together. It might take a lot of glue and patience, but you can salvage it. But when something shatters, there are too many tiny shards to ever put things back into the proper place again. Even if you try, give it your best efforts, it will always be off—a warped, ugly version of what you once had.

I look up into the rain, letting the drops hit my face with a cool splash.

“She’s mad because I lied. By omission. But I guess it was a lie all the same. I didn’t tell her about something because it would have meant revealing other things.” I return my focus to the headstone and swipe my hand over my face to remove as much water as I can. “Christ, it’s such a mess. You and Mom were never this intense, were you? I know you guys met when you were pretty young, but I never remember you arguing or there really being anything overly dramatic happening in the house. I wish my life were more like that because I’m not really sure where to go from here. I can apologize to her, hell, I did apologize, but she thinks that this means I don’t love her. She thinks that this means I don’t trust her or care. But she couldn’t be more wrong.”

About so many damn things.

“I kept it from her because I care. Because I love her, and I didn’t want to worry her or upset her or drag her into something that she is too good to touch. I don’t want the dirt and filth of my life and what I am doing with it to mar her. Because she’s fucking perfect and pure. But now, I think I’ve lost her.”

Water trickles down the front of the granite monument, washing it and cleaning away all the dirt and grime that’s accumulated.

I wish the rain could do the same for me. Wash away everything that happened between Rachel and me that was bad and only leave what was good.

But life isn’t that simple.

“I’ll give it up, Dad. I will. It’s not even about that. It’s about the fact that she judges me, even though she says she doesn’t. I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to look at me the same, knowing what I’ve done. As much as she says it’s okay, she made it clear that it’s not.”

And what she said was like a knife to my fucking heart.

Even now, almost twenty-four hours later, my chest still aches and burns with the wound. I still physically feel it every time I take a breath. Those words leaving her lips…

“I need a sign, Dad. Some way to know which way to go and what to do.”

I squeeze my eyes shut against the sting of the tears and suck in a deep breath to keep the sob that’s climbing up my throat from escaping.

The wind picks up out of the north and swirls around me almost violently. A whirlwind spinning up dirt and debris from the cemetery.

Something hits my hand, and I glance down and freeze.

White petals.

Yellow centers.

An all too familiar flower now stuck to my wet skin.

I pull it off and whirl around to look at the grave next to Dad’s.

Daisies.

Fucking daisies.

Wind whips more from the planter in front of the headstone up into the air. The flowers twirl around me for a moment and move across the grass toward my car in the parking lot.

I run my hands over my damp face and rub my eyes.

This has to be a hallucination.

Maybe the sheer lack of sleep and stress has finally gotten to me. It’s making me see things that aren’t even there. But maybe, just maybe, the hallucination is telling me where I need to go.

It just doesn’t help me get there.

Not when there are so many roadblocks between here and there.

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