Occiditur

Fire and Rain

I exhaled the smoke I'd inhaled from the cigarette. I had tried very hard to quit smoking, but I hadn't been able to resist them ever since Micky's death. As I sat there with my back up against his tombstone I felt guilty for it. He'd wanted me to stop so long ago!

"I know, Micky." I said into the silence. "I promised you that I'd quit."

It was okay for me to talk to myself today. There was no one around to declare me insane. It had been days since anyone had visited Micky's grave. The week after he died a hoard of people were constantly surrounding his grave side. There was no room for anyone to even see it.

I had driven by every day to see if the crowd had diminished. I waited for two weeks to be able to come to the grave and be alone. However I didn't mid the wait. It provided me with time to look for the record case Micky had mentioned. I didn't have a clue what he meant by 'It's in the record case.' So I made a mission of searching through all of the record cases in Micky's possession. I was sure I'd find it somehow. Whatever it was.

But today at his side, I had equipped myself with a bottle of beer and a packet of cigarettes.

"I don't know exactly what to say to you buddy." I chuckled nervously.

"Mel says that I need to talk to you. She says you can hear me." I spoke into the air. "I don't know if she's right or not. She's a smart girl. So I hope she is." I took a drink of beer and continued. "You would have liked her Mick. She's all a girl should be. Smart, considerate, beautiful! I'm sorry we I had to meet under these circumstances..." I trailed off with a scoff.

"'Sorry' is too weak of a word...but my mind being limited as it is, I can't think of any other word." I took a dreg of smoke and washed the ashy feeling in my throat down with more alcohol.

"Yes, she's a good girl." I smiled. "But I didn't come to talk about my love life." I sighed.

"I came to tell you what I couldn't when you were around." I went silent for what felt like only a few minutes, but it could have been ages. I tried to gather my thoughts sensibly. However tears are what resulted.

"I'm sorry man," I whispered. The sound mingled with the voices of nature. Leaves rustling in the late spring air, the early birds chirping after catching the worm.

"I knew you weren't happy, but I always told myself that you were fine. Maybe because I needed you to be. No one was ever there for me anymore. I had to tell somebody how crappy my life was, but no one would listen. No one but you. You! With all your problems you still listened to me!" I was sobbing now and I don't know how much was the alcohol and how much was my true feelings.

"Man, how can I tell you that I wish it was me six foot under right now?" I spoke.

"Just like that." A voice said from behind.

I whipped around, who had heard me?

Mel stood there with a bouquet of yellow tulips. A flower represented in the Monkees. She walked up and laid the flowers with the mountain of others surrounding the grave.

"What—what are you doing here?" I asked.

"I came to see if you'd be okay." Mel informed me. She came and sat beside me on the ground.

"Looks like you'll need a ride home, so I'm glad I came." Mel frowned, acknowledging my bottle.

"Yeah, that would probably be good." I dried my tears and laid my head on the girl's shoulder. I hadn't known her long, but I couldn't imagine what this time would be like without her. God must have sent her to me knowing that I'd need someone to lean on in this time of desperation. I'm so glad he did.