“Hey, mom, I brought you your favorites.” I pick up the dead flowers and clean up the area in front of the headstone before placing the new ones in their place. “Jacques is here too, but you know he won’t come in. He misses you, we all do.”
I sigh and sit on the ground, one knee raised and my arms spread out behind me propping me up. “There’s something going on with him but he won’t tell me. I wanna help, but I can’t make him, yano?”
I close my eyes. “God, I wish you were here. I feel like everything around me is going to shit… sorry, mom, I didn’t mean to curse. I just feel like no one cares about the club anymore, not even pop. I’m sure you can see everything that’s happening, although that’s creepy to think about.”
“It is pretty creepy.”
I turn my head at my brothers voice. He’s staring, wide eyed at her headstone but doesn’t make a move, and I don’t push him on it.
“So as I was saying, the club isn’t worth anything anymore, our chapter at least. I seem to be getting into trouble with Tank more and more these days, all because I want things to change but it feels like I’m hitting my head against a brick wall. If you’ve got some words of motherly wisdom, now would be the time to tell me.”
Jacques snorts and I look at him. “What?”
“You’re talking to a slab of marble, you know that right? Or are you going senile in your old age?” He quips nervously, and I laugh along with him.
He takes the few steps toward me and sits down. “Hey, mom.”
I wait for him to say more but he doesn’t, he picks at the grass with shaking fingers so I carry on.
“You can probably see that Jacques is a little worse for wear today. He had a party for one last night and had to be tucked into bed by his big brother,” I tease.
He shoves me in the arm. “He did not tuck me into bed, he wasn’t that nice. He didn’t even cover me with a blanket.”
I snort. “Did you want me to sing you a fuckin’ lullaby as well?”
“Well, yeah. That would’ve been real nice of you,” he smirks.
“When did you start thinking you were funny?” I retort.
“About the same time you started gettin’ boring.”
He laughs at his joke, touche. I’ll let him have that, his mood seems to have shifted so I stand up and dust off my hands.
“Are we leaving?” He asks, looking at the headstone apprehensively.
“Nah, I gotta take a leak. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I walk off toward the gates, there’s a public toilet around the corner so it’s the perfect excuse. I don’t need to go, I just wanted to leave him alone with her.
I know it’s not really her, but talking as if she’s listening has helped me a lot these past two years. I first came two weeks after her funeral.
My heart has stopped beating, but that’s the least of my worries. My hands are sweating so much I’m scared they’re going to slip off the handlebars. I arrive and park up, not able to look at the cemetery gates. This isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing at nearly twenty-six years old. I’m meant to be taking these flowers home to her, not to her grave.
My stomach churns and the three people that are visiting loved ones of their own all turn and stare at once as I make my way through the gates, or at least that’s what it feels like. I cling to the sunflowers in my hand as I try to reign in my emotions and keep my head forward, looking for her plot.
I spot the headstone she picked out for herself and freeze in front of it, staring at the etched words.
I drop to my knees lightly, not taking my eyes off the cold slab. “Hey, mom.” I don’t know what I’m expecting, but when I don’t get a reply, I break down. “It’s not the same without you around. Knowing you were going to die didn’t make it any easier like you said it would. We got to say goodbye but I think that’s what hurt more, watching you deteriorate and turn frail just about killed me. Fuck!” I slam my fist into the ground. “It’s not fair, you were one of the good ones.”
After a few minutes of letting my emotions run free, I take deep breaths to steady my shaking hands. My chest heaves up and down as I start to get control of myself, I feel like a little boy again but I don’t care. I’ve never been one to shy away from showing my emotions no matter how hard pop’s tried to get me to hide them, it’s just not who I am. I’m hot headed and I’m not afraid to share my opinion about whatever is bothering me, if I’ve got something to say, I say it.
“I know pop and Jacques still haven’t visited, but they will. They just need some more time I guess. But I had to come talk to you. I won’t tell you what’s been going on with them ‘cause you’ve probably already seen it. Shit, I can see you giving both of them a beating, I know I sure as hell want to.” I shake my head at the thought of walking in on my sixteen year old brother, sleeping with a club broad, in my bed.