Skipping Stones - COMPLETE

Chapter 11

"Yeah. Your grandparents have the nicest place around here."

"How'd you know which one was theirs?" I ask as I furrow my brows.

"Not hard to figure that out." He shrugs. "The flowers on the door. The cars constantly coming and going."

Of course. I'd not even thought about all of the town gossip that is probably making its rounds about the accident. I stare at the water, willing myself to not go there, to avoid that subject. "They've been here my entire life. They bought this house when they married. Added on to it a little bit as their family grew." I start to pick at the ground, breaking the pieces of green into smaller ones. "They had a little girl, but she died after only a few days. They said she had Spina Bifida." With each pluck, it occurs to me that is how my heart has felt the last several days. It's like pieces have been broken off of it that will never be able to be put back. I'm irreversibly changed. It's surprisingly relaxing to be here, doing this. Being with him is turning out to be the best form of therapy ever. So as much as I hate to say the words I'm about to, I know it's necessary. I mutter, "I should probably be gettin' back. I know we have a lot to do today."

"Like what?" he asks.

If I thought I knew what guilt had felt like before, I didn't. This is guilt. How could I have been skipping rocks and making out with a boy when my mother just died? What's worse is it felt so good. It felt so good to forget. Should I even be experiencing anything good right now? I don't deserve to feel happiness. I don't deserve to feel anything other than this anguish. My chin starts to quiver. I was just able to talk about them. No, him. I was able to talk about my dad, but not really my mom. How do I do this? I gulp. "Funeral things."

"Oh. I shouldn't have asked." He lies back and rolls onto his side. He picks another flower, and he brushes it up against my cheek. "Um."

I glance over to him. "Um what?"

"Well...I don't want to invite myself. I mean...I've never done anything like this." He bites his lip. "Do you want to see if I can come with you?"

"Oh." I doubt the grandparents will go for that, but it would make me feel so much better.

"I shouldn't have asked. Sorry. I just thought if I am able to make you feel better, that I'd try to be there for you in every way I can."

Putting my finger up to his lips, I silence his rambles, then lean in and replace it with my lips. "You're so sweet to me, and you barely know me."

"Yeah. It's strange." He taps my nose with that same flimsy flower. "I feel like I've known you forever."

When I turn my head, he drops the flower and cups my face. I lean into his touch. It's warm, electrifying, comforting. "I'll ask," I whisper.

"Okay, me, too." He pulls me in and kisses me again. "If they say no, I'll just hang out here until dark."

"I don't know how long it'll take, though."

"I'll find you, Alex. I think you've got enough to worry about. I'll find you."

What is it about the way he spoke that sentence, the look in his eyes? It sends shivers through my entire body. He means it. He's genuine, caring, and compassionate. It's like God knew I needed him. I am convinced he's here to get me through this. He's a reason for living.

Slowly I blink, realizing I need to get up, but leaving him is proving to be more and more difficult. I stand, brushing off the remnants of grass and dirt. "You could just walk back with me. I'd love for you to meet my Memaw."

I am about to offer my hand to help him up, but he shakes his head, and he bounces up in an instant. "I don't want to impose."

"I don't think you'll be imposing. I know Papa seemed...stern, but they literally have never met a stranger."

It's the first time I've really felt awkward around him. I wait for him to reply, "Okay."

He holds his hand out to me. I place mine in his, and he leads the way out of the field and back onto the short road that leads to my grandparents' yard. We don't say anything during the walk back. I take a deep breath, but I'm panting. It's not like it's that far of a walk.

"Are you all right?" He asks concerned.

It's the bricks. I shake my head. Everything gets blurry from the tears that begin freely flowing from my eyes. "No." I thought that being with him made them go away, but I think it's a combination of him and the place. The creek is my solace. It's my peace.

He squeezes my hand. "Deep breaths, Alex. You can do this."

The memories flood back into my mind. The visions of the police car, Papa dropping to his knees, my grandmother's wail, and it's all too much. I feel my breathing becoming more and more labored. I think I'm going to pass out.