Page 4 of Between

“She’s at home. She couldn’t find a sitter.”

Stillness resounded in the walls of the mausoleum as he hummed in response. We both took a moment to settle in this newfound reality, that he was gone, and that this was all we had left of him.

Unwrapping myself from Uncle Lucas’ arm, I approached the granite countertop. The surface was polished and shiny, with not a single speck of dirt or dust to be seen. My finger brushed against the edge.

“This place is beautiful,” I began, the catch in my voice unrelenting. “I didn’t even know it existed.”

Turning back to look at Uncle Lucas, I watched as he shrugged. “Most people don’t.”

There was a truth to his statement that I couldn’t shake. We were in a hidden cemetery with no cell service and no other cars or visitors. The entrance was covered in a layer of dense fog, and I would’ve missed it entirely if it weren’t for the other cars. Before coming here, I tried searching the place on my phone, but I didn’t even know where to begin. This graveyard was covered in secrecy, and I was itching to understand why.

But my grief was heavy, heavier than my desire to figure things out.

For now.

Completely turning myself to my uncle, I eyed him. His cheeks were sunken in, the skin around his eyes was purple, and the life in his irises looked hollow.

“Areyouokay?” I asked.

He sighed. “Oh, I will be. Don’t you worry about me, okay?”

I hesitantly nodded. Both my dad and Uncle Lucas took Uncle Russ’ death hard, harder than they let on. They sat together in silence in my parents’ garage for three nights in a row, drinking and smoking cigars, letting only their memories do the talking. But at least they were there for each other.

And in their bond, I knew Uncle Lucas wasn’t lying. I knew they both would be okay someday, even if it took longer than expected to heal.

“Ready?” he asked, looking to me.

I wasn’t, but I don’t think I’ll ever be.

With a simple nod, I walked out with him, saying a silent goodbye to someone who shaped me into the person I am today.

And as I scooped up my umbrella, continuing my exit, I looked to my left. The man from earlier was back. His jacket was still dripping, his clothes were still wet, and his eyes were still on me.

I turned away from him and walked back to my car, even with his stare burning into my back.

Celeste

Exactly eighteen days have passed since Uncle Russ’ burial, but thankfully, I remembered the way to the cemetery.

At least, I thought I did.

There was more fog on the road that seemed to appear out of nowhere, and the rain was just as heavy now as it was the last time I was here. But still, I drove up the winding road to the best of my ability, only falling off the road and driving into the dirt twice.

Upon approaching the vine-covered gates, I stopped my car in front as the fog slowly dissipated.

The gates were shut.

With my eyebrows slanted down and my eyes squinted, I sat in my car, confused.

It was daylight. It was a Tuesday.

Did I miss something? Were they closed? Was there another memorial service going on?

There was no one around to even ask. There was nothing to look up on the internet to check.

I couldn’t evenconnecttothe internet right now.

After quickly pulling my hood up over my head, I opened my car door, stepped one foot out, and glanced around. There didn’t seem to be anyone on the grounds. No private burials. No services. No one.

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