The words settled around us, and as they did, I realized that maybe I needed to take them into account too.
“I’m going to go sit in the car,” Mom said with a sigh, turning away from Dad’s grave.
Ten minutes later, I found Tanner sitting under a tree, gazing at a pair of squirrels, and together, we returned to the car. Mom already had the engine running and the heater going.
“Ready?” she asked.
We both nodded.
It wasn’t until we’d pulled out of the parking lot that I realized I’d been so busy comforting my mom, I hadn’t had a chance to say anything to my dad. I still wasn’t sure that he could even hear me. I wasn’t sure what I believed. But once again, I’d failed him.
chapter 21
There was a message on the machine from Logan when we got home.
“Sorry I missed the cemetery,” he said, his voice sounding slurred. “I’m still out with Sydney. See ya later.”
Mom hung up her coat and began sorting through a stack of mail.
“Mom?” I said, biting my lip. I’d always kept up the unspoken sibling rule of honor by not telling my mother if I saw Logan drinking or smoking at a party, but the fact that he sounded drunk at four on a Sunday afternoon worried me. “Doesn’t Logan sound kind of … funny?”
“It’s been an emotional day for all of us, Lacey,” she said, sighing. “I’m sure he’s shed a few tears of his own.”
That wasn’t what I meant, but there was no point arguing with her.
Later, after dinner, I decided to go for a run. I needed to get out. Logan still wasn’t home, and Tanner and Mom were watching some show about pandas on Animal Planet.
The night had turned cold. The rain that had started just after we got home from the cemetery—and had dried up another hour after that—had brought with it a chill in the air that hadn’t been there before.
As I set out at a slow jog, I wasn’t quite sure where I was going at first. I just knew that I needed to be alone.
As I ran, my feet carrying me farther from home, I thought about my dad, I mean really thought about him, for the first time in a very long while. It was easier not to think about him most of the time. I’d stopped letting the memories in. I’d stopped talking to him in my head, pretending he could hear me. I’d stopped looking obsessively at his pictures. A little part of me wanted to forget his face, his warmth, his deep voice, his lopsided smile, because it would be easier that way, wouldn’t it?
And now he was back. Seeing his gravestone for the first time since the funeral had brought it all home. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t escape the reality that he was gone.
My feet carried me the two miles to the cemetery. I didn’t even stop to consider that I shouldn’t be coming this far by myself after dark. It was like I was numb to everything: good judgment, logic, even the bitter cold that was seeping in through my double-layered sweatshirts. I patted the pocket of my sweatpants and felt the familiar shape of my cell phone.
Slowly, I made my way up the shallow hill until I could see my father’s headstone emerge from the darkness. A moment later, I stood in front of it, gazing down for the second time today at his name, the year of his birth, the year of his death. My knees suddenly felt weak, and I reached for the headstone to steady myself.
“Hi,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.” My voice didn’t sound like my own. In fact, it took me several seconds to register that the voice was mine, that I had spoken the words aloud instead of just thinking them. I took a deep breath and repeated the words a little louder. “I’m sorry,” I began again, “for not always being a very good daughter. I’m sorry for all the fights we had. I’m sorry for the times you told me I was being a brat and you were right. I’m sorry for the times I yelled at you that I hated you. I never meant it. Not once. I wish I could take them all back.”
My knees were growing weaker; my legs felt like jelly. My hand still on the headstone, I eased myself down on the dead grass. The rain had left the ground damp, and I could feel it seep through my sweatpants almost immediately. But I didn’t care.
“I’m sorry for that morning,” I went on. “I’m sorry I took so long getting ready, just to bug Logan. I’m sorry I took my time coming downstairs. I’m sorry I thought that was funny. I’m sorry I thought it wouldn’t matter.”