Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Noah blinked sweat out of his eyes as he plucked another weed from the mulch. He took a swig from one of the open beers on top of the headstone before turning back to work.
Everything was shit. The looming financial pressure was making his mom talk nonsense, she had refused to give up the house, and there was somehow still no word from the real estate agent.
At least his pieces had come out okay. And Huckleberry was eating well. There was something good in every day, even if he didn’t deserve it.
He swiped a hand over his forehead and jostled the headlamp. The cemetery was quiet, peaceful, nothing but the sound of crickets and the breeze rustling the white ashes behind him. Exactly the way he liked it.
He really should have come back sooner. Lichen had begun to creep over the headstone, and all the rain had brought a flood of weeds to the grave site.
Bobby deserved better. All the time, not just when Noah managed to scrounge up the energy.
Headlights appeared on the single-lane road behind him, and he shot a glance over his shoulder, already annoyed. Who was coming here this late?
The door of the yellow VW Bug slammed, and Lyra stepped out, holding a small bouquet of yellow flowers. Of course. She never could leave anyone alone.
He grunted and turned back to the headstone.
“I figured you were out here.” Her voice was gentle, like she was expecting him to snap at her. Which he might.
“It needed cleaning.” He pointed a spray bottle at the headstone and spritzed it with water. The Tampico brush needed to be replaced, but it would do for now.
Lyra settled cross-legged on the ground next to the grave. She tucked the flowers gently into the memorial vase and looked up at the stars.
“He’d be thirty-two today.” She let out a long sigh, then placed a hand over the earth.
He nodded, then began to scrub.
She yanked a weed out with her bare hands and tossed it into his bucket. “I wish they’d let us plant a whole garden. Izzy would love it.”
“She would.” Noah picked up a skewer and dug at some lichen that had crawled into the O in Robert. His thoughts turned to Bobby’s plucky six-year-old. He really should have called her today.
“I miss him,” she said softly. “Sometimes something funny will happen at work, and I still pick up my phone and start dialing before I remember.”
“Me too.”
What he would give to have one more afternoon with him. Just shooting the shit or whooping his ass at Frisbee.
“I usually talk to him when I come out here. I probably look like a crazy person.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Noah said. “I can put headphones in.”
It wasn’t his thing, but it wasn’t his place to tell people how to grieve.
“You don’t have to do that.”
He shrugged, then went back to scrubbing.
Lyra tipped her chin and looked back at the stars.
“Hey, Bobby. It’s me. Happy birthday. I wish you were here to eat carrot cake and drink Natty Boh.
It feels like my phone is going to ring any minute, and it’ll be you with a story about your overbearing ex-mother-in-law.
I miss your stories. I miss your voice.”
Her voice shook, and Noah reached over to pat her on the back.
Sometimes it was hard to remember that he wasn’t alone in his grief.
Bobby was loved by everyone in this town.
His presence was so essential in Aster Hollow that sometimes he swore he caught a glimpse of him in the window of the diner or his laugh from around a corner.
He was everywhere. Everywhere and nowhere.
Lyra took a deep breath and started again. “Izzy is so beautiful and funny, not to mention way smarter than any six-year-old I’ve ever met. You’d be so proud of her. She’s won more dance competitions in the last year than I can count.”
Noah’s stomach hardened, and he turned to scrape away at the gravestone again. He hadn’t seen any of Izzy’s performances. He had made tons of excuses—he was too busy, he needed to help with the animals. But the truth was, it was just too hard.
“Yasmin is doing well too,” she continued. “She’s such a good mom. She’s front row center for every performance.”
Silence fell again.
“I miss you,” she said quietly, then stood up. She dusted off her jeans and turned back to Noah. “Thanks for not judging me.”
“I would never.”
“I’m going to go put on one of his old shirts and eat my weight in cupcakes now. Are you okay? Do you want some help? Or a cupcake? They’re carrot cake.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I came out here to be alone anyway.”
“I get it.” She started to walk away, then paused. “I know it doesn’t do any good to remind you, but it wasn’t your fault. It never was.”
“That’s not true,” he said. He scrubbed at the M in Murray, maybe harder than was necessary.
Her voice was firmer. “I know it’s true. And I also know that the last thing Bobby would want is for you to continually punish yourself for something you had no control over.”
Noah stood up and threw his tools into the bucket. “I’ll finish this later,” he said, then took off into the dark. He wasn’t going to think about this anymore. He couldn’t.