Page 89 of The Late Hit
“Let’s celebrate!”
And we celebrate all damn night.
BitterNovemberaircutsthrough me as I make my way across the browning grass. I’m forever grateful that I was smart enough to remember how different the weather would be and packed my fleece-lined leggings and wool socks. Chicago in November is a lot colder than Texas in November. And Chicago is miserable today. Leaves spin and twirl as they breeze by. The sky is gloomy and overcast, fitting my mood perfectly.
Forcing one duck boot-covered foot in front of the other, I make my way over to my destination. When I arrived, I thought my memories would have blocked out the gravesite, but it must be ingrained in my muscle memory of where I was bound for. Pulling my parka tighter around, I reach up and secure my scarf closer around me to block out the blustering wind. Continuing toward my destination, I slide my beanie further down my ears. This wind is miserable. Finding the spot in the grass I hadn’t visited in five years, I squat down, leaning my back against the cold stone.
“Hi, brother,” I greet, rubbing my fingers against the engraving—Bryce Philip Wilder. Beloved Son, Brother, and Friend. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve visited. Chalk it up to me being the absolute worst sister.” I choke out the words, inhaling a deep breath, willing myself to be strong.
I can do this. I can do this.
I knew coming here was going to be a challenge, but I didn’t realize how difficult it was going to be. But it was time. In fact, it’s entirely long overdue.
The other day when I was walking across campus it occurred to me that I needed to come visit. Visiting the cemetery pops into my mind here and there, but this time it was a strong notion. It wasn’t that Ineededto, it was that Ihadto. I needed to finally grow up and stop acting like a child. It was time I came home to have a conversation with my brother.
And then one with Asher.
It’s time to get closure. The time has come to close this chapter of my life and move forward. Especially if I want to move forward with Quinton. I’m not coming here to forget about them, but it’s time I come here to accept that they aren’t coming back, and it’s okay for me to move on. I didn’t die with them. It’s not fair to either one of them that I quit living when I have the chance to.
Taking a deep breath, I fold my hands in my lap while tilting my face to the sky. The sunbeams warm my face, a smile breaking free from my lips. If I let myself believe it, I can feel Bryce’s eyes on me. He’s sending me warmth by letting the clouds part for the sun. It’s his way letting me know that he’s here with me.
I hope Heaven is everything we are told and more. That it’s not just some made-up place for us living to picture. I hope that he and Asher are bouncing from cloud to cloud, raising hell, and causing just enough trouble while still being allowed to stay behind those pearly gates.
Or maybe it’s likeThe Good Placeand both of them have found their soulmates. Gosh, I hope that’s the case. I hope both of them have been given the opportunity to love—Bryce for the first time and Asher to find someone new to love, someone he's meant to spend the rest of his life with. That version of heaven is just like Earth—attending college, finding their passions, falling in love, and making new memories. Maybe there’s a big screen TV where they get to sit down and check in on us still living without them.
A stream of tears slides down my cheek, and I quickly thumb them away.
“Dammit, Bryce. I freaking miss you. I miss your obnoxious laugh, your contagious smile, and your warm embraces. And I miss having you by my side. College was supposed to be me and you. Our journey together out of the clutches of Mom and Dad.” A sob breaks free, and I take a minute to just let the tears pour. “I got into CTU. I almost didn’t go. It didn’t feel right to go without you, but I knew you would’ve been pissed at me. It’s not the same without you, far from it, but I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to make you proud. I can’t say that some of the decisions I’ve made over the years would have you feel proud of me, but I was doing the best I could. Which is a shit excuse, but that’s always been me—full of excuses.”
I pause, taking a deep breath and searching the grounds. There’s a cardinal resting a few rows over. If that isn’t a sign that Bryce is with me, I don’t know if I could find anything clearer. “But I’m taking my major seriously. I graduate next fall before continuing on to the master’s program. I want to be a youth therapist who helps kids with their grief after a loss.”
For the next twenty minutes, I sit and recap my last three years at CTU for Bryce, sparing him the rest of high school. Both of us were trying to survive high school before the accident. Our minds had already traveled to what was to come next for us. Telling Bryce I’d be back, I get up and make my way over a few rows.
The shiny black marble stares back at me, Asher’s name engraved on the headstone. I stand there, staring at the stone, not moving. The words for Bryce came easily. I don’t know what to say to Asher. I miss him something fierce, and guilt surrounds me. Guilt for letting him take my ticket. Guilt for leaving him that day in the hospital. Guilt for falling in love with someone who isn’t him. My love for Quinton came out of nowhere, but it feels so natural. It’s the same feeling I had for Asher, if not stronger, and it makes me feel so guilty to have these feelings for someone else.
Finally, I force myself to move. Bending down, I sit on my knees, the words staring back at me.
“Hi Ash,” my voice squeaks out. “I’m sorry I haven’t been by. Truth is, guilt has consumed me, leaving me paralyzed about what to say to you.” That same paralyzing feeling hits me. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here. “I met someone,” I blurt. “You’d really like him. Quinton reminds me a lot of you and Bryce. He’s driven, he’s caring, and he’s hardworking. But I’m scared to tell him I love him. What if there’s not enough room in my heart for him too? You still hold my heart like a vise. And what if my love isn’t enough? Or what if something happens to him just like something happened to you and Bryce? I’d never be able to live with myself.
“I know I’m rambling. Words have never been hard between us. Hell, we both went through that dreaded junior high awkward stage together, but this just feels different.”
My knees grow tired from holding my weight. I shift so that I’m leaning with my back against his stone as I did at Bryce’s site.
“I guess I came here today to tell you that I love him. I love Quinton so much that it hurts. And while I love him, I’ll always love you. I’ll always wonder what our life would’ve been like. But while I’ll hold on to that life, I’ve got to move on. It’s not fair to any of us for me to die while living. And if you’re watching over me, like I know you are, just give me a sign that it’s okay to move on.”
I let the words finish spewing from my mouth, knowing that it’s a bunch of random nonsense that I’m hoping he’s making sense of.
Closing my eyes, I tilt my chin to my chest and just focus on my breathing. The wind picks up, blowing my loose hair into my face. Reaching up to swipe the tendril from my face, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.
Two cardinals are perched in a pine tree. One of them flies toward me, landing on the headstone across from me. He lets out the most beautiful chirp, and the dam breaks. Sobs erupt from my chest, streams of water pour from my eyes, and I know that was my sign from Asher.
The air is growing colder, the sun back behind the gray clouds. Standing up, I bend down and press my lips to Asher’s headstone.
“I love you, Asher Nelson.”
My hand slides into my pocket, and I find the photos that I had stashed away. Removing the double-stick tape from the back of the photos, I attach them to his grave. A copy of the photo Grace sent me and a recent photo of me and Quinton after one of his football games.
Making my way back over to tell Bryce goodbye, I’m just about to his gravesite when a figure appears, startling me. She’s tall and thin, wearing dress slacks and a long wool coat. Glancing up, she makes eye contact with me, stopping me in my tracks, and freezing me like one of Medusa’s victims.
