Page 53 of Corrupted Union

Today.

Dear God, I’d lost track of the days.

Grabbing my cell phone, I touched the screen and saw the date glaring shamefully at me. October 13th—the anniversary of Ivy’s death.

How could I have overlooked it? Mom always locked herself in her room and spent the day crying. I’d been avoiding my phone, but I knew we were approaching mid-October. How could I have possibly forgotten what that meant?

You’ve had a lot going on, Ro.The gentle voice drifted through my head.Don’t be so hard on yourself.

I squeezed my now burning eyes shut.

I’m so sorry, V. I will never,everlet this happen again.

I walked purposely to the drawer in the kitchen where keys to the family car were kept. On the way, my gaze snagged on the liquor cabinet. I fished out the car keys, then grabbed a small bottle of expensive tequila before hustling out the front door. Yes, it was reckless. Yes, I was putting my life in danger. And yes, I hated when women in stories did stupid shit like that, but I did it anyway.

This was for Ivy.

I’d gone to her grave on the anniversary of her death every single year, and I didn’t plan to abandon her now. Not when I was the reason she was dead.

When I was little, my father would take me to see her. The cemetery was outside the city, so it wasn’t a trip we took often. Dad probably preferred doing that to suffering through my mother’s tormented cries. It was the one day a year she let herself fall apart, and aside from Ivy’s death, listening to her wail was the most terrifying thing I’d ever endured. I could have been seven or seventy-seven, and those sounds would still haunt my nightmares. Hearing a parent come undone like that messes with a child. I was no exception.

Early on, I made it my life’s mission to do anything and everything I could to be the perfect daughter. To ensure they felt nothing but joy 364 days a year.

October 13th, however, was the one day that grief was unavoidable for all of us.

I made the drive in silence. No music. Just me and my guilt as it should be.

I rarely drove anywhere, so it felt odd behind the wheel. I got my driver’s license specifically for this purpose. I didn’t need it in the city, but I didn’t want anything to get in the way of me seeing my sister.

The day was unusually sunny for fall in New England. I was glad. I liked to think of Ivy basking in the sun. She was buried on a hillside. Not a large hill, just a gentle slope. Mom and Dad had purchased a plot for all four of us at the time. I doubted they would have thought so far ahead about their own deaths, but with Ivy gone, it made sense to secure a final resting place for the family to reunite. That meant her gravestone was easy to find because a halo of empty grass surrounded it.

Ivy Ophelia Alexander

August 5, 2000 - October 13, 2006

Loved with a love beyond telling.

Missed with a grief beyond all tears.

The stone was a beautifully carvedslab of white marble. It was eerily peaceful in the cemetery. Some people can’t stand them—a reminder of their own mortality. I could only imagine that those people had never lost someone they loved.

For me, the cemetery was solace. When I sat cross-legged in the grass next to Ivy’s plot, I’d swear I could feel her there with me. She was always present in my thoughts, but this was different. Visits with my sister in the cemetery were precious bubbles of time beyond the reach of the world. I cherished each one.

This one was harder than most, however. The guilt I’d felt so many years ago resurfaced with a vengeance this time.

I lay my palm flat on the ground, tears welling in my eyes. “I’m here, V. And I have so much to tell you.”

In theory, if Ivy’s spirit was that gentle voice in my head, she’d see what I saw, and I wouldn’t have to tell her about my life. A part of me genuinely believed that was the truth. That my sister was still with me. But on the off chance I was just batshit crazy, I always ran through recent events out loud when I visited to cover all my bases.

Usually, I would have started where I left off at my last visit. This visit was different. Nothing before Keir’s arrival seemed of any relevance. Anything and everything that mattered had happened since he first appeared in my parents’ kitchen.

I ran through every minute detail of events, sipping from the tequila bottle as I went. I told her about how Keir made me feel, about the girl in the attic and how she made me think of her. I explained my mixed emotions about Stetson and how bad I felt about hurting him.

“You know I don’t want to hurt anyone. All I’ve ever wanted was to make people happy. But for the first time, V, I started to ask myself what I wanted. And the answer wasn’t as clear as I thought it would be. Or maybe, the answerisclear, but I’ve choosen to black it out. Either way, the one thing I can say for sure is that my path wasn’t taking me where I wanted to go. So where does that leave me, V?” I spread my hands wide, liquid sloshing from the bottle in one fist.

I peered at it and noticed it was lower than I’d expected. Had I spilled a bunch, or had I had that much to drink? Did I care either way?

I looked up at the trees in the distance, my head spinning from the movement.

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