Chapter 19 – Stone
STONE
She turned her head and noticed me as soon as I opened the sliding glass door. “You didn’t wait for me.” I put my mug on the table and lit my blunt. “Not sure I should share this with you.”
“That’s fine.” Leaning forward, she picked up my cup. “I’ll drink your tea.”
“I’ll share if I can sit.”
She stopped the swing and gestured to the empty space beside her. “Be my guest.”
“Thanks.”
“So, what keeps you up at night?” she asked.
I hadn’t planned on telling her or anyone, but in that moment, I thought maybe getting it off my chest would help.
“It’s not something I talk about because it happened a long time ago. I dealt with it and moved on with my life. However, for reasons you’ll understand in a minute, it’s resurfaced, and I just want to fucking sleep without being woken up by weird dreams.”
“Is that your way of asking me to keep this to myself?”
“Not really. Everybody around here knows about it. We just don’t talk about it,” I explained. “I don’t give a fuck if you tell your friends.”
“Let me hear it first, then I’ll decide if I want to tell them.”
“I got married when I was eighteen because my girlfriend told me she was pregnant, and I thought it was the right thing to do. I got a job at a funeral home owned by the Grave Prowlers and started prospecting for them soon after so I could take care of her and the baby like I promised. Well, she was fucking pissed when I told her I joined the motorcycle club. She thought I was going to join the military. A week or two later, she was waiting by the front door when I got home from work. She said, ‘I’m not pregnant,’ and refused to talk about it.
I don’t know if she had a miscarriage, an abortion, or if there was never a pregnancy to begin with.
We should’ve gotten it annulled and gone our separate ways, but we didn’t.
I wasn’t home much because I was busy with work and the club, but I don’t know why she stayed as long as she did.
Anyway, we’d been unhappily married for three years, and I was on call for the crematory.
I got a call and had to go in. She flipped the fuck out, screaming and yelling about me always choosing the club over her, accusing me of cheating on her.
All her usual accusations. I had to get to work, so I ignored her and left.
When I got home a few hours later, her car was gone.
I remember being relieved that she wasn’t there and hoping I could go to sleep before she got back.
But then I found a note on my pillow. I don’t remember the exact words, but she said she followed me to the crematorium and snuck inside the casket before I put it in the incinerator. ”
Whitney stopped the swing and turned toward me. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“No. I’m sorry for scaring the hell out of you. I mean, I am sorry about what happened with your wife, but holy shit. Of all the fucking caskets, I had to get put in the one you opened. That had to be awful for you.”
Her reaction caught me off guard. I expected the usual response—pity. “Did you just apologize to me for being a failed murder attempt?”
“Thank fuck! I’ve been trying to figure out how to refer to myself in that context, and the best I could come up with was something’d.
And yes, I did. I should’ve apologized sooner, but it never occurred to me that it might have been traumatic for the person on the other side, and for that, I am truly sorry. ”
“I appreciate it, but I wouldn’t say it was traumatic.”
“You think you unknowingly cremated your wife. Then an alive woman unexpectedly jumped out of a casket when you opened it. Shit doesn’t get much more traumatic than that,” she said and snapped her fingers. “That’s why you’re dreaming about it.”
“Fine. Your punk ass rattled me a little,” I admitted, feeling oddly comfortable with her.
“Well, tell me about the dreams.”
“It’s the same dream, over and over. Your face turns into hers, and then I wake up.”
“That sucks. Do I look like her?”
“Not at all,” I told her. “She had short, dark hair and brown eyes.”
And your eyes aren’t filled with anger and hatred like hers were.
She gasped as a look of horror washed over her face. “That’s why you walked off Monday night. Because I asked if you’d found other women besides me. I thought you were pissed because I was asking about your shady business dealings.”
“I wasn’t pissed, but I didn’t want to continue the conversation. I’d planned on going back to the table with you, but when I looked back at you at the door, your face turned into Kim’s.”
“I don’t like that my face is doing things I can’t control.”
“Earlier, you tried to apologize for scaring me when you were the one assaulted, and now you’re blaming my hallucinations on your face. None of this is your fault. You didn’t ask for any of this to happen to you.”
“Neither did you,” she said. “With her or me.”
“I’m not out here blaming myself and apologizing to people either.”
“No, but maybe you should consider getting another job. I mean, how do you think you’ll handle it if it happens a third time?”
“You’re not the first person to make that suggestion.”
“Maybe it’s something to think about after all this is over,” she said and rubbed her arms.
“You cold?”
She shrugged. “A little.”
“Sleepy?”
“Not yet.”
I shifted and raised my arm so she could move in closer. “Come here.”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Better?”
“Much,” she said softly as she rested her head on my chest.
And that’s how her friends and most of the club found us the next morning—sound asleep on the swing.