And so would I before I went home.
It was quiet in the cemetery; there were no ongoing services, no visitors within earshot, and not even cars could be heard in the far distance. Strain my ears hard enough, and I might be able to hear the sound of planes in the air or cars screeching to stop for a red light, but by and large, whoever had built this place—about a half-dozen blocks southeast of Reid International Airport—had done well in making it quiet and peaceful despite its near-urban situation.
I knew well enough that Cassius and the rest of the Vale family would not have buried Virgil amongst all the other people. While it was true there was no such thing as a truly private grave here, there were spots more recluse and more spaced out than others, and I made my way to the far back. Sure enough, as I moved along the tombstones, I found the plot in the back that was more spacious, with perhaps a half-dozen feet between each grave.
I arrived there and almost immediately spotted Virgil’s grave, so fast it almost seemed like it was divine to happen.
Suddenly, everything came roaring back. How cheerful of a boy Virgil had been; how kind and open he had been, a bit of a contrast to his older brothers. He was not even through high school when the drunk driver had taken his life, but even in the short time he’d been here, he’d left quite the impression on me.
I understood well it was that reason that I had avoided coming here for so long. It was easy—relatively—to visit the grave of someone who had had a minimal impact on you. You’d be respectful and wish them well in the afterlife, but by the time dinner rolled around, things would be normal. But visiting the grave of someone you cared about, of someone whose mere presence lifted you up…
Tears formed in my eyes. I kneeled and placed one hand on Virgil’s grave.
“I’m sorry, Virgil,” I said between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I’m so…”
I trailed off. Words would not bring him back. Nothing could bring him back.
I had to accept that, but it was so much easier said than done. Acceptance was often done with the belief that it might accidentally bring about the outcome you truly desired. But the outcome I truly desired—to have Virgil still alive, for Cassius and I to coexist in peace, if not something more—would not happen.
“I hope your family makes good decisions, Virgil,” I said quietly. “I am sorry I put you… in the spot where everything happened. I’m sorry.”
I suddenly felt stupid for having come here. Had I done so for selfish reasons, or to actually pay my respects to Virgil? I needed to leave. I didn’t belong here.No, calm down. You cared for him. You can feel both.
I drew in a deep breath. Yes, I could feel both.
But it was also true that it was time for me to go. Perhaps the gratitude for having visited Virgil and paid my respects would settle in later. I didn’t know. But I did know that staying here would go past the point of making peace with the past and turn into deliberately immersing myself in guilt and anguish.
I stood.
“I’m sorry,” I said one more time.
I turned.
Cassius stood, his hands folded at his hips, quietly watching. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. Was I… imagining this? I couldn’t possibly be, could I? But for how fucked my head was right now, was it really so unfathomable?
“Cassius,” I finally said, but the word came out a whisper, barely audible to myself, certainly not to him. I opened my mouth again, clearing my throat, trying to find something to say…
But nothing came. Not here. We might have shared much, much more than maybe even his brothers shared, but whatever he had for Virgil and whatever I had for Virgil were for his little brother’s ears only.
The sole question that stuck in my mind was wondering just how long Cassius had seen me there, crying and sobbing. Had he seen me from the moment that I walked into the graveyard? Had he only shown up seconds before, a coincidental timing that made it look like he’d been there much longer? Did it even matter? It wasn’t like I’d never cried in front of him. There was just something shockingly raw and vulnerable about the moment, something I hadn’t expected after the prior forty-eight hours.
All the same, I walked by him, careful not to look up at him as I did. It was impossible to leave and not come within inches of Cassius Vale, and the whole time, I half-expected him to put his hand in front of me or to grab my shoulder, commanding me to wait. I anticipated that power move on his part.
But even when I was directly by his side, even when he could have stopped me dead in my tracks, he did nothing. He let me go.
That was as unexpected as anything, to not have gotten anything at all. But to me, it truly signaled everything I needed to know.
Cassius had let me go. I had forced myself away from him forty-eight hours ago. Both of us were living with that reality, and both of us seemed to believe that was permanent.
It was strange to say that by the time I got back to my car, I was feeling just as sad about the loss of Cassius as I was about anything else in the last thirty minutes.
23
CASSIUS
There had been many things that, I suspected, had subconsciously softened how I felt about Sarah over the past couple of months. Her artwork, certainly, had had an effect on me. The gradual truth about how she was not truly responsible for Virgil’s death had always affected me. Even the time with her, in brief moments like how she smiled or how she would respond to me, had gradually lowered my loathing toward her bit by bit.
But standing there, at the entrance to the graveyard, watching her sob before Virgil’s grave, fucked with my head in ways I hadn’t imagined.
