One Week Girlfriend(47)

“Yesterday, you sort of were one.” I’m about to say something, but she cuts me off. “Truthfully? I liked seeing all the anger. It means you actually feel, you know?”

I’m quiet. She’s right. I can’t remember the last time I went off like that. Do I ever go off like that? A fuse had been lit within me and I was unable to contain it.

“I’m going to take a shower.” She flicks her chin at me. “You should go. I don’t want you to see me. My shirt’s practically see-through.”

“Fable, I hate to break this to you, but I’ve already seen you,” I remind her, my voice low.

Now it’s her turn to remain quiet and with a grin, I stand, heading for the door. “I liked what I saw too,” I call over my shoulder.

Her soft laughter follows me all the way down the hall.



Fable



It’s so cold outside and gloomy, the sky full of dark, foreboding clouds and that ever-present wind. I pull my coat tight around me, following Drew as we walk through the cemetery. He’s taking a windy path through the gravestones and I try my hardest not to look at them, but I can’t resist. Some of them are beautiful, with actual pictures on them, heartbreaking messages and even statues.

And flowers. Flowers everywhere, real and fake, bright and cheery, dark and somber. Some are even holiday-themed. I see remnants of Halloween ribbon, plenty of autumnal colors. Rusty reds and oranges and harvest yellows.

I felt better, seeing all the color, the benches that people put out there to actually spend time with the loved ones they’ve lost. Death is a terrible thing but it’s also such a part of life. I don’t like thinking about it, our mortal selves.

It’s easier to pretend we’ll live forever.

“Here it is.”

Drew’s deep, somber voice made me glance up and I see he’s stopped directly in front of a small gravestone that lies close to the ground.

Slowly I approach, stopping just at his side and I let my gaze settle on the words written across the stone:

Vanessa Adele Callahan

Born September 30th, 2007

Died November 27th, 2010

Forever in our hearts…

There was a little picture of Vanessa in the upper right hand corner. Her hair was dark like Drew’s, she has a big smile on her face and her blue eyes twinkled.

She was adorable.

I glance over at Drew and see him staring at her picture, his hands in his jacket’s pockets, his expression bleak. Full of sadness. I want to comfort him, want to draw him into my arms and whisper that everything’s going to be all right, but I don’t feel like it’s my place.

Plus, he needs to do this. He told me so on the drive over. He wanted a few moments where he did nothing else but look at her grave and think of her. Talk to her in his mind.

I agreed because who am I to judge on his grievance practices? We all mourn differently. Personally, I wouldn’t want to come out here, especially since his sister died at such a young age.

Curiosity crept over me again and I tried to ignore it. I really want to know how she died. I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much, but everyone in this family is so damn secretive about everything. This one little detail is major and I want to know.

I have to know.

A shuddering breath leaves Drew and I can’t take it anymore. Stepping closer to him, I grab hold of his arm and squeeze it, wanting him to know I’m there for him if he needs anything. He hauls me in closer, his arm going around my shoulders and the next thing I know, he’s embracing me, his face buried in my hair, his arms wound so tight around me, I can hardly breathe.

But I let him hang on to me. He needs the comfort. I do too.

“It’s my fault,” I hear him murmur against my hair. “I was watching her outside while my dad took a phone call. And then…then I left.”

A prickly sensation skitters down my spine and I try to keep myself relaxed so he doesn’t catch on that what he’s said disturbs me. Yet I want him to be open with me, not close himself off.

“It was an accident.” I have no idea since no one’s told me, but it seems the right thing to say. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“No.” He sets me away from him, his blue eyes blazing as he stares down at me. His body vibrates with emotion and he runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Did Adele tell you what happened? Did she?”

“I—no.” I shake my head, gasping when he grasps me by the shoulders and gives me a little shake. “She didn’t tell me anything. Only that she died.”

He pushes me away, cursing under his breath and I stumble, stunned that he would treat me that way. He’s walking away, his head down, his strides quick and I follow him, confused and angry and suddenly wishing I would’ve never come with him to this horrible, depressing place.