She shakes her head, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. “I’ll walk. I’ll be okay,” she says. She doesn’t wait for me to reply before she starts walking.
* * *
I easily rememberthe way to Saint Mary’s Cemetery because in middle school, Chris, Aaron, and I used to ride through here on our bikes. The tricky part will be remembering where we laid Cara to rest. I park my car on the shoulder of the main path and get out for a walk. I think it’ll jog my memory, and maybe the fresh air will do me good. It’s been a while since I’ve felt the urge to drink like this.
There is no rhyme or reason to the placement of graves, and I realize I’m probably looking for a needle in a haystack. I quickly read each name on each headstone I pass—no trees or landmarks look familiar.
Gates
Caldwell
Seymour
Williams
Harper
“Oh…wow. Leah,” I murmur to myself. I hadn’t realized Liam’s sister had passed. Sadly, we have something in common. She was my age. A dull ache settles in my gut, and I debate turning back.
Cocozza
Brown
Smith
I come to the end of a path and then I see a beautiful pink dogwood tree. It’s much taller now than it was twenty-five years ago. Most of the pink blooms have fallen off in the sea breeze to make way for the green leaves, but this is it. It was newly planted and so much smaller back then, but I remember it because my mom specifically loved that there would be a flowering tree near Cara’s gravesite. I hang a right and walk slowly between the headstones, being careful not to walk on a grave. Then I find her.
Cara Cote
Beloved daughter, sister, and friend.
Gone but not forgotten.
June 14, 1982 – September 16, 1999.
My throat tightens and the backs of my eyes burn. I haven’t laid eyes on her gravesite since the funeral. Other headstones around us have flowers, American flags stuck in the ground. Cara’s is bare. Guilt pricks my cheeks. It says, “Gone but not forgotten,” but that doesn’t feel true anymore.
I’m not the praying kind but I drop to my knees anyway, the hot sun on my back and dirt sticking to my knees. I fold my hands, pressing them to my lips and close my eyes.
“I’m sorry, sis,” I whisper. “I never forgot you.”
The words hang there, heavier than I thought. Then the tears find me, and I have no choice but to give in to them. The memories press in, jagged and relentless. I have no choice but to surrender to them.
“Josh.” My father knocks on my door.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, grabbing a hoodie. “I’m just heading to the game. I’m super late.”
My dad hesitates, his face crumbling. “No, son, you’re not. Have a seat.”
I frown in confusion, sitting on the bed. “Okay.” That’s when I hear it—my mother’s wail from the other room. Like a rabid animal. It’s a sound that would haunt me for the rest of my life. “What’s wrong?” I ask, panic rising to my throat like bile.
My dad sighs and rubs his hand down his face. “There’s been an accident.” His voice cracks. “Your sister…” He can’t get the words out.
Nausea rises. Goose bumps pebble my arms. “What? No. Where is Cara?”
My dad sits down next to me and pulls me into him. “She was in the car with Liam and Melanie. Someone ran a stop sign.”
Melanie. Oh my god. My throat tightens. Melanie and I thought it would be best for her to go with them tonight—so as not to draw suspicion.
