The Little House of Paints

Chapter 29

 This time when I park the car, I can actually see the full span of the property. Being in a graveyard isn't nearly as miserable during the day as it is during the night. I have never been someone who has been scared of ghosts, but being in any dimly lit space at night sucks. Too many creepy things happen in the dark.

I don't know if it is technically against the rules of the cemetery to have brought Jericho, but I'm sure stray cats pass through here all the time that do much more damage to the stones and property than he could cause in our short visit.

Last year for Christmas, Teagan actually bought me a leash for the occasion that I wanted to take Jericho outside, but unfortunately I left it at home. Not gonna lie though I love it, I think walking a cat around on a leash, even my own, is probably one of the lamest things in the world.

Tucking Jericho into my arms, I begin the short walk over to my mother's stone. Since this is just a quick stop, I couldn't go back to Gardenia's and pick up more flowers. As we approach, I see the white daisies. The same ones that I had dropped on my mad dash away from Miller yesterday. Though they are a little worse for wear, they are planted.

"Hi, Mom." I settle down in front of her, placing Jericho beside me. Everytime I have come and visited her, I always promised that one day, she would get justice. I could almost laugh at the irony. All this time, her killer had been right in front of me. I was one of the people prolonging her getting the true peace that she deserved.

"This is Jericho, your grandson of sorts I guess. I told you about him last time, I think. I see you got the flowers after all. Sorry, I wasn't the one that planted them." I ramble on. A one sided conversation is always hard to have. Not being able to lead onto your mother's shoulder when you offer her an apology is difficult beyond belief.

My bottom lip is wombling as I push the words out, "I'm sorry, Mom. Sorry, that it took me this long to realize what happened. Sorry, that I was blind to everything for so long. But, they got him. Finally, you can rest in peace. He will never do this to someone ever again."

Whatever shred of humanity that was left in him is what protected me from him all these years. One of my hands goes up to my neck, touching the bandage. It then snakes its way up to the bluntly chopped off piece of hair. My dad would have never hurt me, when he was fully sane that is.

I wipe tear after tear as they fall, "I'm sorry that you couldn't get away, no matter what the circumstances were. I'm sorry that he felt the need to do this to you. I'm sorry that his actions went unpunished for all these years. I'm sorry that there is still a part of me that loves him, even though he is not him. Does that make sense?" I attempt to explain.

"You would think that after everything that I have learned about him that I would hate him. Would want nothing to do with him ever again. But, imagining no more worried text messages or updates on the town-" I break off into a sob, "Mom, I'm sorry that I can't hate him. That I can't just flip that switch. That part of me hopes that all of this one bad dream and I will wake up to him shaking me. That my dad is not a murderer." The last bit comes out shaky and breathy.

I stayed there for God knows how long. Apologizing over and over again. Spilling out my guts to my mother because whether or not she is by my side, I still feel the need to tell her everything. Every thought that passes through my head. Go to her for advice, even when there is no possible way for her to give it to me.

I think back to all the podcasts that I have listened to over the years that had interviews with the families of the criminals. Talking about how they never knew that this person did this or that. I would always think about how oblivious someone would have to be to miss the fact that someone they loved was a sicko. How could you not know that they were murdering young women? That they were kidnapping children? How does someone miss something like that?