31. Leo
31
LEO
I ’ve been sitting in my car for fifteen minutes, trying to find the nerve to get out. Corey’s grave is close by, but it feels miles away. I fixate on the painted rock I found in a memory box, flipping it over in my hand.
When we were around eight or nine years old, this rock caused a massive paint fight between Corey and me. I close my eyes, replaying it in my mind. A rainbow of colors splashed the garage walls, including my dad’s expensive tools and machines. Paint covered our hair, mouths, skin, and clothes. My throat constricts remembering the taste of it. Our parents grounded us for two weeks. They shouldn’t have given us the paint to begin with.
It’s been a few days since I brought the boxes back to my place, and I’ve come to realize that I’ve essentially been erasing the first twenty-five years of my life, because he was always with me. But forgetting Corey is impossible, and five years of this denial is an embarrassment.
There was a letter from Corey stuck between some books in one of the boxes. If I could, I’d fucking pummel my own ass right now. I packed those boxes, but I never saw it before.
Reading that letter was bittersweet. I cried, laughed, and threw some shit across the room. Don’t worry, I didn’t break anything important. If I did, I would’ve been in the dog house with Mom. But it made me drive to the cemetery.
Get out of the car. I count backward from five. On one, I open the door and step out, gripping the painted rock in my hand.
Someone told me once people leave rocks on headstones to show respect to the deceased and reflect their visit. Maybe Corey doesn’t want me here. I can almost feel him pushing me away, yelling at me to leave. Anytime we ever fought, it only lasted a couple of minutes before we’d erupt into laughter. We never took anything seriously. Now, I’m not sure.
I inch forward, glancing at the other headstones as I pass them. Some have rocks on them too. As I draw closer, my heart pounds, and I take a trembling breath. I rub the surface of the rock with my thumb repeatedly.
I stop and read his name and the dates on his headstone. My legs tremble. Too young. Holly berries and pine cones adorn the fresh grass before it. Beside them stands a mini pine tree decorated with red bows. I’m sure Aunt Betty put it there. If she had her way, I bet his headstone would glow like the Griswold’s house from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation .
I step close beside the grave and place the colorful rock on the headstone, reminding myself again of what an asshole I’ve been for not visiting. I return to the front with a lump in my throat. The weight on my heart gets heavier and pulls me to the ground. I fall to my knees on the damp grass, then sit back on my heels.
Why is this so fucking hard?
I scan the surrounding area to ensure I’m alone.
“Hey, Cor,” I mumble. Suddenly, all the words I’ve been holding back push their way out of my throat as I shatter into a million pieces. With my head in my hands, I apologize for not visiting, for not being there when he took his last breath. I tell him how much I miss him and how I’ve been stuck. Five years of sadness and anger flow out in streams, watering the grass before me.
“I know you’ve been watching me, and you’re probably disappointed in how I’ve been living. I’m sure of it because of the letter you wrote. You remember? Well, like you predicted, I’ve met a woman. She’s it for me, Cor. She’s reignited my heart. Out of all the women I’ve met since you’ve been gone, Olive’s the only one. She’s brought back my love for dancing, singing, and the desire to live.
“I wish you two could meet… But you can’t. Omigod, Corey. It fucking hurts that my two favorite people will never be in the same room together. You’ll never see how much you mean to me and how much I love Olive.” I sniff so hard it’s disgusting. Why didn’t I bring tissues?
There’s a bare patch on the ground, and I realize I’ve been pulling out pieces of grass and tossing them to the side this whole time. I smooth the area as best I can.
“Anyway, I miss you more than I can express. Maybe my snot gives it away. You’d be the one to let me walk around with a big-ass booger hanging out of my nose and not tell me. Man, you were such a dick sometimes. We both were. That’s what made us so funny. So awesome. To us anyway.
“Thanks for the letter. I’m sorry I didn’t find it sooner. I’ll keep it in a safe place now and read it often. Please watch over me, Olive, and our families. I’ll bring her here with me someday.
“And I promise, I won’t take one more day for granted. I’ll live my life to the fullest for the both of us. We miss you, Cor. I love you, man.”
I sit in silence for a moment with my eyes closed, letting the breeze ruffle my hair, the sun dry my face, and the wet ground seep through my jeans.
“Bye for now.”
I get up and head for my car, watching the ground as I walk. When I look up, I’m shocked to see Aunt Betty standing next to my car, holding flowers.
Damn! I thought I was all dried up, but the tears come back, full force. We hug tightly, mumbling and crying together. Once we let up, she hands me a pack of tissues.
She tilts her head. “You okay?”
I nod, happy that it’s the truth. “I’m getting there.”
Her face radiates love and kindness. “Good. I’m glad I came when I did. I was going to wait for your uncle Mason to get home first before I came here.”
“Um.” I clear my throat. Not sure why I’m nervous. “So when should we plan Corey’s memorial?”
“How about today?” she responds, her voice filled with excitement. “I’ll call Tonya when I’m done here.”
“Perfect.”
Slowly—no, quickly—everything is falling into place.
* * *
I scratch my stubbly jaw. The universe wants to delay my trip. When I got home from planning the memorial, I found an email informing me that my flight from the island to Seattle had been canceled. I’ll need to take the ferry to the mainland instead. An hour later, I get another email saying my flight to Japan’s been canceled too. I do some research, but all the other direct flights are full. With connecting flights, it’ll take me over twenty-four hours to get there. No, thanks.
Oh! I could ask Sam to fly me to Seattle with his helicopter. He loves to fly, but I don’t want to bother him. I roll my neck from one shoulder to the other. Another idea pops into my head, and I quickly check flights for another day.
Yes. This could work. It’s approaching five o’clock now, and I haven’t heard from Olive. Is that good or bad? I rub my hands up and down my thighs. What should I do? I need to book these plane tickets now. My gut says to do it, so I click the purchase button. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll be home longer than expected. But if it does… I shoot Olive a text.
Me: I haven’t heard from you. I hope everything is okay. It’s been a long day. I’ve got a surprise for you. I’m home for the rest of the night.
While I’m waiting for her to call, I double-check when the Super Bowl is and compare it to my work schedule. I really want to spend that weekend with her and meet her brother.
I also need to touch base with my boss. We talked before the holidays, and everything was on track for what they expect from me. Things are different now. My life is about to drastically change. This will be my final article for the magazine. I plan to tell Mom that I want the manager’s position, but I have to make sure it works for Olive and aligns with our endgame first.
Me, making plans for a personal life? It’s an anomaly. I’ve been in limbo, but this woman with cappuccino eyes and a heart the size of Texas has pulled me out. The life I envision with her makes me want to start it right now.
It’s been an emotionally draining day. I’m antsy and need something to do. I throw on some sweatpants and head over to the gym.
Twenty minutes in, I’m drenched and struggling to breathe. This is the hardest I’ve pushed myself on the treadmill. When Olive’s name appears on my screen, I brace myself on the sides and pull the emergency cord.
I’ll always stop what I’m doing for her.