Night Rider

The Graves

Yasmin pulled out the flowers she had carefully tucked under her jacket as she rode. Slowly, she knelt down in front of the grave and replaced the old ones. She couldn't bring herself to look at the fresh dirt next to her. She couldn't approach Mattel's grave. Not yet. The grass had long grown over this adjacent grave. Yasmin took off her light helmet. Her hair, which she had twisted into a knot on top of her head beneath her helmet and hung it on the handles of her civilian bike fell out over her shoulders.

Yasmin took a deep breath and said, "You've been reunited at last. I have no doubt Mattel will tell you all about me. And Jason, and Barbara. I hope you'll be proud." Yasmin reached out and readjusted a few of the flowers, taking her time until it was just right. "I hope you'd be proud. If you were still here. If you were still here, I'm sure everything would be different. This city misses you." Then after a beat she added, "I miss you." She sat with him, thinking about it all for a good long while, enough to get cold underneath her jacket, until she had the strength to move to the next grave. The new one right next to it.

Yasmin resettled herself, her face stone cold.

"I'm sorry Barbara wasn't at your funeral. I just couldn't stand to spend a whole morning with her right now. Jason agreed it was ok. I'm sure she'll visit your grave sometime."

She read the name again and again. Mattel. It was wrong. He was supposed to be here with her. Who else was going to put a hand on her shoulder as she talked to her father's headstone? She felt his absence like a ghost and the cold creeped under her layers of clothes until she was shivering. Or maybe she was just shaking. He wasn't really gone. Was he? She thought of returning again to the silent empty house and caved over, her head resting on the cold stone. Tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the dirt.

"Why did you leave me?" she choked. And the pain in her chest became too much. She reached out for the headstone and held onto it with a white-knuckled grip. The tears were flowing freely now and, against her will, she found herself sobbing alone in the graveyard. There was a deep pain in her chest that was exacerbated by the crying. It had to mean something. She couldn't hurt this much only for everything to remain the same. She needed someone to tell her it was going to be ok. She needed Mattel to tell her she could move on without her father. Who was going to tell her to get up from Mattel's grave? Who was going to make it alright enough to get back on the bike and ride home? It couldn't be her. She didn't have the strength. Yasmin sobbed until she couldn't breathe. Without Mattel, there was only her and the Warlock. Without Mattel, it was only her against the rest of the world. Without Mattel, it was only her alone in a big house. Without Mattel it was only her, crying like a little girl. She tried to compose herself. She wiped her face, but the tears kept coming. She had stayed strong at the hospital. She had stayed strong for Jason. She had stayed strong at the funeral. Rider wouldn't cry. But when it was just Yasmin?

She felt weak.

It rained on her throughout the ride home.