Chapter 37
CHAPTER 37
E MILY
I’ve been sitting in the passenger seat of Trina’s car for several minutes, staring out the window, trying to get up the courage to climb out and do this.
Trina breaks the silence. “It’s kind of stuffy in the car. How about I walk with you, and I’ll sit on one of those benches while you go see him?”
I swallow around the lump in my throat and nod at her. She doesn’t really think it’s uncomfortable in here—it’s early September and pleasantly cool outside—but she’s trying to support me. When I climb out of the car, my hands are shaking so much that the two pieces of paper I’m holding quiver.
Trina and I walk to the bench, and she sits down. I take a deep breath and walk alone for the last fifty feet to Teddy’s grave. Before I sit down, I pause and look at his headstone, bending down to brush some grass clippings off it. When I stand, I’m struck anew by how thoughtful it was of Teddy’s firefighter comrades to collectively fund the two beautiful concrete benches that flank his resting place, and I sit on one of them.
“Hi Teddy. I can’t believe it’s been a year since we lost you. I know I don’t come here a lot anymore, but I hope you’ve heard me all the times I’ve talked to you this last year. I don’t know how all of that works, obviously, wherever you are now. If you can hear me, I’m sorry for some of the mean stuff I said early on. I hope you know I didn’t mean it. I was just so hurt and shell-shocked. It’s still unbelievable to me that I haven’t heard you laugh or seen you smile in so long.”
Shit, this is hard.
I wipe a tear from my cheek using the back of my hand, reach down into my bag and pull out some tissues and the small key that arrived in the mail two weeks ago.
“I’ve done a lot of work with a therapist this year to cope with my grief. And one thing that she helped me realize is that when I was really sad and missing you—or honestly really pissed at you—I kept going back and re-reading the letter you left me, hoping it would make me feel closer to you, better maybe. But that letter had so much hurt and pain in it, and it would inevitably make me sadder. That’s not how I want to remember you. I want to remember the good things, the times you were happy. But I also have some things I want to say to you so we can close the door on our love story with peace between us. So, um, I know I’m totally rambling now—bet you’re not surprised by that—but I’m going to read a letter I wrote to you, and then I’m gonna put both of our letters in a metal box that I had installed under one of these benches and lock it away so they’ll always be safe and together. Our goodbyes to each other…”
I hold up the key as if he can see it and then I pick up my letter to him, breathe deeply, and start reading.
Dear Teddy,
As I’m writing this, it’s been almost a year that you’ve been gone. It’s all still so surreal. I find myself asking how this happened to us, but I know there really isn’t an answer. It just did.
I’m sorry if you heard all the mean things I said to you when I was angry this year. I didn’t really mean them. I’m guessing that, wherever you are, you’re more evolved than we are in this life as humans and if you heard those things, you saw them for what they really were—the grief of a young woman who lost her husband and one of her best friends. Still, I want you to know I’m sorry for that.
It took me a while to get here, but I need to tell you, I forgive you. I believe in my heart that you did what you did because of your illness. I don’t think you would have otherwise, and I’m so sorry that you were sick, Teddy. It robbed you of so much, and it robbed us all from having you longer.
My wish now is that you’re not in pain anymore and I hope you’ve forgiven me for not seeing that you were struggling. You always were more gracious than me, so I’m guessing you already forgave me before I’ve even asked for it.
In your letter to me you said, “… if I can influence it at all from the other side, I’m going to spend eternity trying to send love your way.” I think you’re doing that—I didn’t think I would find it in me to trust and love someone again but, by some miracle (which I’m guessing you had a hand in), I did. It didn’t work out, but I still felt it and I’m grateful to know that it’s a possibility. So, thank you.
I loved you Teddy and you were a good man. When I think of you now, it will still be with love, and I’ll make sure none of us ever stop remembering all the joy and goodness you brought to our lives.
Until I see you again,
Emily
“Wow. Sorry that took so long to get through. And now I’m here, all snotty and gross.”
I wipe my tears, then blow my nose. Afterward, I fold both letters together and kneel before the bench I’m sitting on, sliding my hand underneath to feel for the box that’s supposed to be there. It is, and I use the small key to unlock it and slip the letters inside before locking it again.
When I stand, I kiss the pads of my right index and middle fingers, then touch it to Teddy’s headstone. “Bye, Teddy.”
* * *
“Can I ask you a question about the cemetery?” Trina asks. She’s expertly navigating the curvy roads on the way back from the border of Elladine and Meadow Creek, the cool air providing us with a nice breeze through the open windows.
“Sure,” I answer quietly.
“What made you pick a cemetery this far out when there’re two in Elladine? I always wondered but was afraid to ask you.”
“Oh, that’s easy: spite.” I chuckle and watch my sister for her reaction. Trina glances at me with one eyebrow raised, like I might be losing it. “Even though Mom and Dad hated Teddy, they tried to strong-arm me into burying him at the ‘family’ cemetery on Third Avenue and Main. And Teddy’s parents reached out—even though no one in his family had spoken to him in six fucking years—and they wanted him buried in the other one, where all the members of their congregation get buried. So, I aimed to piss them both off and buried him here.”
Trina lets out a hearty laugh. “Impressive, little sister. Remind me never to piss you off.”
I’ve noticed her looking up at the rearview mirror several times in the last few minutes, her brow furrowing.
“Jesus, dude. I’m going the speed limit. Pass me if you don’t like it,” she mutters.
We drive another mile and the driver behind us is still riding close. Trina’s an excellent driver, thank goodness, because I would totally be stressing. As we approach a turnout, Trina pulls into it so the other driver can pass us.
Except he doesn’t. He swerves into the turnout and stays about twenty feet behind us.
Trina keeps watch in the rearview mirror. “What the hell?” she whispers. “Emily do not look back. Keep looking forward and roll up your window.” We both put our windows up and the click of the doors locking fills the car.
I watch as she reaches down for her phone, keeping it low and out of sight while she presses a few buttons. Halfway through a second ring, Ben’s name pops up on the dashboard display.
“Trina? What’s wrong?” His voice is strained.
“Don’t freak out,” she says in an even tone.
“Telling someone not to freak out means there’s something to freak out about. Tell me. Now.”
“Emily and I are on the way back from Teddy’s cemetery and it’s probably nothing, but a black SUV was tailing us pretty close for miles, even though I was doing the speed limit.”
“What else? I know you and you wouldn’t call for that alone.” A car door slams and an engine roars to life in the background. “I’m on my way. You’re on Route 47, right?”
“Yeah, about three miles outside of where we would turn off to go home. Anyway, so I pulled over at a turnout to let him pass us and he swerved in behind. He’s just sitting there, parked about twenty feet away.” Still watching the rearview mirror, she whispers, “Oh, shit.”
“Oh shit, what? What’s happening?” Ben’s speech is rapid, and his high-pitched voice gives away his panic.
“He’s flashing his lights at us, Ben. What should I do? Stay here? Try to drive away?” Trina’s voice is almost shrill now and I notice her hands shaking on the steering wheel.
I try to make note of any identifying details through the rearview mirror but there isn’t a lot to go on and with no front license plates in Ohio, I can’t get a tag number.
“Okay. Stay calm. According to the location tracker on your phone, I’m about ten minutes out.”
“You put a location tracker on my phone?” Her voice is incredulous.
“Trina, not the time to argue about this. Listen, keep an eye on him, stay in drive, and be prepared to take off if he pulls up closer to you, or if he starts to get out of the car. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Em, are you okay?” Ben asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m trying to take notes in my phone on details of the vehicle and the driver in case you need them. It’s definitely a male. It’s hard to tell for sure what color his hair is because he has a green ball cap on, but I think it’s blond. And he’s wearing sunglass?—”
I’m interrupted by the blaring of the car horn behind us.
“Is that him?” Ben asks.
“Yes”—Trina starts but then narrows her eyes. “He’s moving closer. Hold on, Em!”
Trina peels out of the turnout, going as fast as she safely can, and the SUV follows. When we get about a half mile down the road, we’re on a stretch with a few feet of pea gravel on the passenger side, then a guardrail that protects drivers from a steep drop-off.
“Trina? What’s happening?” Ben asks. She doesn’t answer, focusing on the road.
I can’t help but gasp when the SUV speeds up and crosses the middle line to try to force us closer to the guardrail. Trina doesn’t take the bait and stays between the lines of our lane.
“You’re gonna have to mess up your vehicle if you want to push us off the road, pencil dick.”
Apparently, ‘pencil dick’ agrees as he forces the front passenger side of his car into our rear driver’s side and the screeching sound of metal scraping against metal fills the air.
The SUV drops back for a few seconds, and I breathe a sigh of relief when we’ve cleared the area with the guardrail and have the natural rock wall to our right instead. At least he can’t push us off the edge of a small cliff now. Maybe we’ll make it to our turn off before he can do anything else.
Sirens blare through the phone and it registers somewhere in my brain that Ben is calling for help. “I need all available units to Route 47 between mile markers two and three and have dispatch send an ambulance as well. Assailant is a male driving a black SUV pursuing two females in a gray Toyota sed?—”
Everything fades away except a loud crunching noise as the SUV slams into the rear driver’s side of Trina’s car, causing us to fishtail. The rear passenger side of our vehicle careens into the rock wall.
“Trina? Emily?” Ben yells.
But neither of us answer because just as Trina tries to correct our course, I watch helplessly as the SUV slams into the driver’s side of our car, eliciting a scream of pain from Trina and she clutches her left side. By some small miracle, something in me thinks to lean over and force the gear shift into park and activate the emergency brake.
Sirens scream in the distance, and it strikes me they’re near, not just coming through the phone. I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach over to check how serious Trina’s injuries are but, before I can climb across the console to her, I’m hurled like a rag doll, the right side of my body colliding with the passenger door. My head strikes the window with a sickening thud.
And everything fades to black.