The Hours We Have

chapter twenty-one

I didn't believe in visiting the dead. 

It was late afternoon of the next day, and I stood on the outside of the wrought iron fence that surrounded the cemetery. As if that fence encased the bones that laid hidden the soil, and I remembered the last time I had come here. Three years ago, I had been dressed in all black and I didn't think my heart could have gotten any heavier that day. 

I had stood with my brothers and we were all fighting the tears in our eyes. I had held Julian's hand because I was afraid that I would take off running from the horrible nightmare as we watched our parent's coffins being lowered into the ground. That was the day that reality hit us and it wasn't a dream that our parents were dead. 

I truly felt fear that day. Fear for the future, fear for what this meant for my brothers and I, fear for myself because I had to learn how to live without my Mom as my best friend. There are so many things to be feared in life, but as they say, fear is only an emotion, right? 

Many other people had shown up that day, expressing their grief and condolences, but once my heart had been shattered there was no cure. I didn't want to listen to meaningless words, as they would never fix the pain that had taken home in my brittle bones; and if there is one thing I learned about people, they didn't care. They may act like it, but they never do, unless they experience the pain themselves. 

Every person who came up after the burial and tried to hug me, I shrunk away from. I didn't need them to fake it for my sake. They could walk out of the cemetery and carry on with their lives, everything was normal for them.

My family, on the other hand, had been damaged like a thousand spiderwebbed cracks running through our house of glass. No matter how much glue we used, it would never repair what had been done, the damage was permanent. People will pretend to care for a social image, there were fake faces everywhere, and even faker hearts. 

I still didn't trust anyone beyond my brothers and best friend. They were really the only people in my life that hadn't left. Mom and Dad's friends had come to check in on us for the first few months, but then they slowly forgot about us as time went on. 

Now, we get pity glances whenever we went in public, from people we once knew, and people we don't, because it was obvious we were broken pieces that didn't fit a perfect image. 

I sighed when Finley softy whined beside me and I looked down at him. He had taken a seat next to my feet on the sidewalk and he was looking up at me with his giant brown eyes. As if he could sense my pain. I gently scratched behind his ears. 

"It's okay, Fin. It's part of the past now," I murmured quietly, he leaned against my leg in his own form of support. I looked at the cemetery again.

 It seemed like a million gravestones were resting over rotting bones, completely meaningless in their purpose, except for those who couldn't let go. I hadn't let go but I didn't see the point in visiting my parent's grave. Pretending they were still there, like they still somehow existed in this world, and they didn't. They were gone. 

It had been an accident that Finley and I ended up on this end of town. I had only meant to take him for a walk to the park and back but I chose a different route home and I found myself here. An unconscious decision, really.

But, it was still a juxtaposition that the dead received more flowers than the living. I almost despised the gorgeous flowers with teardrops on their velvety petals, abandoned on gravestones. Was it not easier to love someone while they were alive? Or were we all too scared to admit our feelings? 

Suddenly, Finley barked, and I startled from my thoughts. My gaze flew down the street where I noticed a few people walking our way. At first, I went to dismiss it, until I realized those faces looked slightly familiar. My eyes widened. The boys from the store.