Chapter 5 Eden
Chapter five
Eden
“The Shadow”
The cemetery was always quieter than I remembered.
Every time I went it was more of a vacuum than the visit before.
I just knew that someday I would come and it would pull the breath from my lungs and I would just crawl into the earth with everyone else.
I never minded the quiet. Even though I loved the noise of the city and my brain was a jar of motion and music, I could be at home with silence.
I took my time walking down the winding trail, fresh flowers cradled in the crook of my arm.
The grass was soft from last night’s rain and the air smelled like bark and earth. Petrichor. I loved that word.
I already knew which way to go: left at the iron bench, past the crooked angel statue, under the big sycamore tree with the wide trunk and peeling bark. My parents were buried there together, just like they wanted. Even blindfolded, I could find them.
“Hey,” I said softly, crouching in front of their headstone.
The letters were familiar, worn into my memory: my dad’s strong name, my mother’s neat one beside it.
I brushed a few brittle leaves away from the base, clearing the little discarded shells of bugs and blades of grass crowding the copper vase.
“I brought the tulips,” I murmured, slipping them in alongside the daisies. “And the thistle too. I know, Dad, they’re a weed… but they’re yours.”
I lowered myself into the grass in front of the stone, propping my back against it.
The cold and damp sunk into my pants. I knew they always said it was bad luck to walk on someone’s grave, but somehow it made me feel like a kid again, sitting between my parents on the couch while we read a book together.
I pulled out the battered paperback from my bag, the one I always brought here.
For a little while, I read aloud. Not the whole chapter, just pieces.
I never knew if it was for me or for them.
I liked to imagine that they could hear the words.
After a while, I gently closed the cover and sat still, with my knees pulled up.
“I’m okay,” I whispered with a smile, patting the grass beside me, “I know you both would have worried about me moving to this part of town but… I needed the money to open the cafe, you know? Apartments are cheaper here, rent for the buildings are cheaper. The business is doing okay. I haven’t screwed it up yet.
The regulars still come in. I’m tired a lot, but I’m happy.
I still miss you, though. I wish you were here to see it. I wish I could show you everything.”
That part caught in my throat more than I expected.
I pressed my forehead lightly to my knees and let the silence stretch around me.
I didn’t have any friends in town, no siblings, no family…
but I’d never been lonely. Not really. I loved people, but I’d never needed them attached to me to be happy.
I tried to date, but that was always a disaster.
A couple of weirdos, one guy that definitely wanted my skin for a lamp, some men who realized I wasn’t good enough for them.
They weren’t all bad – a few hookups here and there – but nothing that ever felt serious.
I did a pottery class at the art center on Saturdays, that was nice. Gave me a little social interaction aside from taking orders. I missed my parents every day, though. We were always close, and they had supported everything I had ever put my mind to.
The soft, unmistakable sound of an engine rolling to a stop echoed through the cemetery behind me.
I sat up quickly, eyes scanning the drive for signs of the black car…
but it was just a motorcycle at the top of the hill.
The bike was black with a matte finish, and the rider was wearing a heavy black jacket, gloves, and a full helmet with a tinted visor.
They got off and stretched, leaving the helmet on while they locked the bike and started walking towards a grave I couldn’t quite see from where I was sitting.
I tensed but tried not to make a thing of it.
It’s a public cemetery. People come and go all the time.
I’m not the only one with ghosts. Here I was, the creep peering over a headstone while some poor guy went to visit a deceased relative.
I really needed to get my shit together.
Those guys in that black car really had me on edge.
I stood and wiped my palms on my jeans, giving one last glance to the flowers.
“I’ll be back soon,” I whispered to the stone.
Then I started back toward the car. As I unlocked the door, I glanced back, out of curiosity. The biker remained at a distance, not facing me. I exhaled something like relief as I slid into the driver’s seat, turning the key and then pulling out onto the gravel path.
When I passed the curve near the gate and looked into the rearview mirror, I saw the biker again, except their head had turned and was facing me, watching. I froze for half a second before forcing myself to keep driving.
Don’t be paranoid, Eden. It’s just someone visiting a grave. Don’t go there again. This isn’t like you.
Still, I can’t shake it. Something cold prickled under my skin, low between my shoulder blades. I checked the mirror again.
By the time I made it back to the café, I was half convinced I had imagined it.