That girl?
For her, even on his birthday, able to drive by himself, hestayed at the cemetery.
He wanted to go over there, take her aside, say to her,“Yeah, just look like you’re listening, nod and move on.It’ll be over soon.They’ll go away.And then it’s just your family.It’ll always be just yourfamily.”
He wanted to save her from that shit or at least shield herfrom it.
But he couldn’t do that.
Still, he stayed.
He stayed while everyone came over and fucking touched her.Her arm, or shoulder, her hair, her hand.
And it was tough to sit through that.It was tough not tohaul his ass over there and stop that shit.
Christ, why did they do that?
Like, your mom was gone, and you wanted people pawing you?
But he sat where he was and stayed through all that.
He stayed, watching her walk with her dad and brother totheir car.
The dad held her hand.
He had his other hand wrapped around the back of his boy’sneck.
Jag couldn’t even look at the dad’s face.
He knew what he’d see.
Jag had been looking at that for as long as he couldremember.
But seeing it new?Fresh?Raw?
Nope.
He wasn’t looking at that dude.
Jag also stayed after they drove away.
After everyone was gone.
And he stayed to hold vigil as the cemetery workers tookcare of things.
Put her mom under dirt.
Did right with the process.Laid the flowers on just so.
Yeah, Jag stayed through all of that.
Only when her mom was all good did Jag look at his father’stombstone.
“Later, Pops,” he said, getting up, brushing off the ass ofhis jeans, and making his way to Dutch’s truck.
And it was fucked in the head.
But to this day, he would swear it happened.
