So I told them I was dating someone but it was casual. If I told my parents I had fallen in love with an emotionally unavailable man who keeps secrets hidden in a manila envelope, they’d panic and suggest I see Dr. Scheuler. No, thank you.
When I finally made it to bed, I looked at my phone and saw there were still no calls, no texts, nothing. I turned my phone off and stared at the ceiling until I passed out.
“So, that’s what’s been going on in my life,” I say to the piece of stone in front of me. It’s beautiful, about four feet tall, and made of red granite. Angel wings adorn the top and the name Luke Robert Paige written in large font. There is space below his name where mom and dad have vowed they want to be buried as well.
I came to the cemetery this morning. It’s my first time since that cold day in January when we laid Luke to rest. It’s just as cold today as it was then, but I came prepared with a blanket, thermos of hot coffee, and some of the taffy dad and I made last night. It’s too early to be eating sweets but I don’t care. Today is the kind of day that needs to start with eating something bad.
I’ve been here for a little over an hour, telling Luke everything that happened since the day of the car accident. Turns out he’s a better listener than Dr. Schueler. He lets me get all my thoughts out without interrupting. Okay, it’s a morbid thought but there is truth. Sometimes you just need to say what you’re feeling out loud without someone else asking questions or telling you why you feel the way you do. A person just needs to feel without analysing it.
“I know it’s crazy to love someone like Alexander. But, you see, Luke, he is sweet and loving and funny and passionate. I know you and Leah think music guys are lame but he is far from lame. You two would have gotten along so well. He has a motorcycle. I know you would be out on it in a second. He also knows celebrities and models.” My inside coil at the thought of some of the ones he’s dated. Leah filled me in on a few. Talk about not measuring up. I look like a wildebeest compared to some of them. I shake it off as Leah would and carry on. “He definitely would have hooked you up with a model or two. Imagine what your frat brothers would’ve said.”
The thought makes me sad. The words would have are terribly depressing.
“I miss you little brother.” I roll my eyes up in order to keep the tears from falling but they are stinging from the inside. I inhale a shaky breath. “It’s hard to believe you’re not here. I try to do that thing where you pretend the person who died is away at war or something and will return any day. The truth is, you’re not coming back.” My eyebrows feel heavy on my forehead and fall down toward my eyelids. “I have been trying to avoid coming here for so long. It’s like, if I don’t come here, then you’re not really here and none of it happened.”
My hand curls up to feel that familiar burn that has kept me from moving on. Funny thing about it, it doesn’t hurt as much as it did almost a year ago. It’s become a part of me. Something I am learning to tolerate.
“Everyone thinks my depression was from losing my ability to play the violin. As if losing you wasn’t enough, it was the music that sent me over the edge.” I shake my head at the though. “Fuck the violin.” I say it again louder. “Fuck. The. Violin.
“If God gave me a choice that night and told me it was your life or my entire arm, I would have said, take the arm. Hell, I would have said take my life! It was never about the damn violin. It wasn’t about my fucking career. It was about you. It was always you.”
My heart is beating rapidly and my body shivers, not from the cold but from the nerves of the feelings in my blood, running through my veins.