Dedicated to FanficSophie because I know how much she's eagerly awaiting this.
If possible, PLEASE listen to the song at the side while reading this. I want you to at least tear up, okay? Just for me? Haha, hope you like it.
---------------------------
There was something on Daniel’s mind.
It was obvious in the way he worked: how he kept stumbling over actions as basic as handing over the right change; the hesitance and stiltedness of the conversation that usually flowed so freely; how I’d caught him, more than once, zoning out completely from what was going on. There was something bothering him, I could tell. And it was something big enough to hold back his usual, charming self, leaving this bundle of jitteriness in its place.
It didn’t seem right to question him properly while the shop was busy with customers; such a hectic environment was not the place. Even so, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over and checking he was okay at more-than-regular intervals. He always nodded, ducking his head and quickly going back to whatever he was doing, but I could see through this transparency. It was later, when the shop had closed for the day and we were in the midst of clearing up, that the opportunity finally presented itself for me to probe deeper.
“So,” I started, leaning on the mop in my hand and blowing away the strand of hair that had fallen from my topknot. “How long’s it going to be before you actually tell me what’s bothering you?”
From his spot by the door, he looked up; in doing so, the collection of keys he was holding slipped through his hand and dropped to the floor. “What?”
I watched as he bent over to pick them up, his fingers fumbling to get a grip on the metal. When he straightened up, the eye contact established between us was reluctant at best. “You’ve been acting strange all day,” I said softly. “There’s something on your mind, isn’t there? We can talk about it, if you want.”
Sighing, he ran a hand through his ruffled hair. “I…” The keys were slipped into his pocket, and he made his way towards the counter to grab the second mop. “I have no idea how you do that,” he settled for eventually, picking his words carefully and expertly dodging the question.
“You almost gave someone a twenty pound note when they only paid a fiver,” I pointed out, “and you’re just… distracted. It honestly wasn’t that hard to figure it out.”
I moved to the opposite end of the shop, dunking my mop in the bucket and beginning to wipe. My strokes were sideways, slowly advancing in Daniel’s direction, so we’d eventually meet in the middle. “We don’t have to talk about it,” I told him. “I just thought you might want to.”
A brief silence fell across the room, only the sound of the squeaking floor audible for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, he stopped mopping, his feet frozen to one spot. “It’s the anniversary,” he said quietly, leaving me to wonder for a heartbeat what he was talking about. “A whole year, to the day, since he died.”
Of course. How could I have forgotten? All I could manage to force out was a quiet “Oh.”
“Yeah. Hard to believe it’s been that long, really.” He took a deep breath, his brow creasing in deep thought. “I was going to go up to the cemetery after work,” he said, “but I don’t know. I haven’t been there since the day of the funeral. There’s just something about that place… like, it almost brings back bad memories, you know? If I visit, I’m scared I won’t see just Dad. I’ll see sick Dad, the one who was in the hospital for so long. And that’s not how I want to remember him. Not in so much pain.”
“I understand,” I told him. Because I did. I’d never experienced such a thing myself, but I could feel the words deeper than just the voice that was speaking them. My mum and dad were taken so suddenly I didn’t have a chance to remember them as anything other themselves. They weren’t riddled with sickness, their last moments spent in agony that was unbearable to watch. One moment they were here. The next, gone.
I wasn’t sure which option was the better.
“I want to be able to say I can feel him here, or something cliché like that,” Daniel said, gesturing toward the empty shop, its half-cleaned tiles gleaming beneath the soles of our shoes. “But I can’t. So I thought maybe… maybe it’s time to face my fears and go up there.”
“If you feel ready, you’ll be able do it,” I assured him softly. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”
“Yeah. Well.” He shrugged. “We’ll see about that one.”
I wanted to move closer, but some kind of intangible force stopped me before I could take a step. “It won’t be as bad as you think. The fact that you’re considering it has got to count for something, right? Maybe you’re not so scared after all.”
“It seems like it should work out like that, doesn’t it?” he said. “But I am scared. I’m scared as hell.”
“I know, but once you face up to this… you won’t be. You’ll be okay.”
“God, I hope so.” He lifted the mop, going back to the cleaning, but I could tell he was deep in thought about something. And, sure enough, before he’d even completed one swipe of the mop, he stopped again. “Hey, Flo?”
I looked up. “Yeah?”
“Look, this is probably a really long shot,” he began with a sigh, “and you don’t have to. Like, at all. If you don’t want to you can just say no and I swear I won’t–”
“Daniel.”
“You really don’t have to. I was just wondering if maybe… maybe you’d come with me?”
It wasn’t what I’d been expecting. I had imagined Daniel’s visit to the cemetery would be a private affair: a situation in which my input was limited to mere words of encouragement and understanding. But here he was, blinking back at me with sheepishness and blatant hope written all over his face. It was a lot to ask, and he obviously knew this, but there was something about his hesitance to even talk about the matter that made me wonder how on earth he’d cope alone.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “I mean, if that’s what you want. I’ll go with you.”
Relief flooded his face immediately, and I could’ve sworn I heard him release a breath he’d been holding. “That’s what I want,” he told me, more sure of himself than I’d heard all day. “I’m just not sure I can handle it alone.”
“Well, that’s okay.” A smile small tugged at the corners of my lips. “Because you don’t have to.”
***
On any other day, it took no more than half an hour past closing to clear up the shop completely, readying it for another day of hardcore ice cream serving. Today, however, we seemed to subconsciously drag it out longer; Daniel seemed to take extra care scrubbing every tile of the floor until the overhead lights produced something of a burnished glare, triple-checking every box of stock in the back room, even organising the drawer that held the ice cream scoops twice over. His nerves shadowed every action; I could see them in the way he fiddled constantly with the pocket of his apron, touched the keys in his pocket like some sort of ritual, and kept shifting his weight from the ball of one foot to the other, even when standing still.
It must’ve been about quarter to seven when we finally slipped out the main door, following the path around to the back street where his car was parked. I climbed wordlessly into the passenger seat, the quietness between us lasting only for a minute before Daniel twisted the dial on the radio. Playing was a catchy pop song I vaguely recognised, its upbeat tempo much too peppy for the situation. Still, it had to be better than the nervous silence it took the place of, stretched with anticipation of what was to come.
I didn’t know how far away the cemetery was, but we ended up driving right out of town, past the touristy signs that read You are now leaving Walden-on-Sea! as if this was something of a significance. Stone buildings and vast stretches of greenery whipped past the windows, moving at a pace too fast to be focused on. At least fifteen minutes must’ve sped by before the buildings started to become closer together, the fields sparser, and countryside began its gradual transformation into suburbia. At this point the car began to slow down, and Daniel kept looking around, on the lookout for a turning he seemed to have forgotten the location of.
Once he found it, however, everything seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. We pulled into the car park and into a bay just as the radio lost signal, its popular tunes reduced to nothing more than buzzing static. Daniel shut off the engine, pulling his key from the ignition, and for a moment we sat there, staring ahead at the first symmetrical section of gravestones whilst shrouded by heavy silence.
I swallowed, working up the nerve to ask the question. “You okay?”
There was a definite hesitation, but he nodded nonetheless. “Yeah. I think so.”
The car door rattled as he climbed out, me following suit a few seconds afterward. The cemetery’s entrance loomed before us, and I could feel Daniel’s palpable apprehensiveness as he appeared beside me. It seemed to require an odd amount of concentration for him to put one foot in front of the other, and we only managed a measly few steps before he came to an abrupt halt beside me, shaking his head.
“I can’t,” he said, sounding suddenly panicked. “God, Flo, I honestly thought I could but–”
Without thinking, I reached over and took his hand in mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re fine,” I told him gently. “You can do this. All you have to do is stay calm.”
His grip on my hand remained tight and desperate for a few long seconds, but eventually I felt him exhale, the muscles in his fingers relaxing considerably.
“You ready?”
The nod I received looked like it had taken all of his effort, but at least the expression of sheer panic had disappeared. This, I had to take as a good sign. The stone archway that made up the entrance gave way to a vast stretch of land, which came into view as we passed through. It was then that I took in the place in its entirety: the rows and rows of gravestones, sectioned off into even areas. The degrees of care varied hugely between plots; while some sat pruned to the tiniest perfection, fresh flowers serving as decoration, others lay overrun by weeds and the shrivelled remains of cut flowers, forgotten by everybody who had once cared.
“It’s towards the back,” Daniel informed me, nodding towards the far left corner. “I remember.”
He did almost perfectly, too; for someone who hadn’t visited the place in almost a year, he was able to navigate as easily through the labyrinth of headstones as if there was some sort of beacon guiding him in the right direction. However, his determined marching pace rapidly deteriorated as we weaved through, and by the time we reached the outermost section of the cemetery the length of his steps was painfully small. In fact, they were so tiny that when he finally did crawl to a halt in front of one particular plot, it took me a while to notice that he’d stopped at all.
“Here,” he croaked, his voice raw. “It’s this one.”
It was tidy – or at least it was in comparison to its next door neighbour, which was swamped by weeds growing as tall as the headstone. Obviously well-looked after, I presumed this was down to Daniel’s mum, who appeared to visit with sufficient frequency to keep the plants trimmed and fresh flowers beneath the engraved stone. I took a tentative step closer, moving closer to Daniel and slipping my hand into his.
In loving memory of John Bolton, it read, letters inscribed into the marble, a dear husband and father. Taken from our lives, but never our hearts.
I could already feel a lump rising in my throat, looking on at the sight before me, and dread coursed through my bloodstream as I anticipated Daniel’s reaction. However, when I finally dared to glance over, I was taken by surprise. Instead of being met by a face crumpled by sadness, tears already streaming down his cheeks, Daniel was managing to remain remarkably calm.
He slowly untangled our intertwined fingers, letting his arm drop to his side, and stepped closer.
“Hey, Dad,” he started, his voice low. “It’s me.”
Grass sunk underfoot as he approached the headstone, finally getting close enough to run a hand over its curved top. “I know I haven’t visited… well, at all, really, but it’s been tough. I just couldn’t face up to it.” He bent over to set down the potted plant he’d brought beneath the stone: an array of bright flowers, colour in a ceramic pot. “I brought you something.”
Silence consumed the space between us; it seemed strange, though I didn’t know what else I had been expecting. It wasn’t like the conversation was ever going to be anything more than one-sided. Not here.
“I remember how you always used to tell me to man up and just do it,” he said quietly, the tips of his fingers caressing the smooth stone. “I used to wimp out of things a lot. I didn’t today. It took me a while, but… I got here.”
The earlier breeze had dropped, leaving just the sunshine, poking its way through gaps in the clouds, to warm our backs. Looking around, all I could see for miles was row after row of gravestones. Each a chunk of marble, a few words engraved as a personalisation. They were all so painfully uniform, and I was suddenly struck by the desperate question of how on earth this was possible: to represent everything that a person is, was and could’ve been on something so small and insignificant. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me sooner, but it did just then: that every single one of those stones was a human being. Someone with enough hopes, dreams and thoughts to last them a lifetime, and every other little thing that pieced together to make a whole. We were surrounded by hundreds of them, some simply forgotten, as if it were that easy to disregard someone gone forever.
I didn’t understand how it could be done. And suddenly it was so overwhelming that I found myself having to make a conscious effort to hold myself together. Not now. Not here. It wasn’t the place to crumble.
“Oh, and guess what, Dad?” Daniel was saying now, a smile so heartbreakingly sad playing at the corners of his mouth. It almost hurt to look, but at the same time I couldn’t bear to turn away. “We had our first one-k day at the shop today. You always wanted one of those, didn’t you? You always said it was going to happen someday. And it did. One thousand pounds, in one day. God, you would’ve been so proud.”
He was trying so hard to hold it together, I could tell. But his voice was wavering, his expression shaking at the edges as the grief pulled it apart. It was then that he sunk to the floor, kneeling before the gravestone, staring straight into the letters carved into its surface. “I’m trying so hard for you, Dad,” he said, battling to stop his voice from cracking. “I’m taking care of the shop almost by myself. It’s difficult, but I know you loved that place. I know how much work you put into it. It’s yours. And that’s… that’s what makes it worth it.”
He took a deep breath, making his best effort to stay calm, but even with distance between us I could hear its shakiness.
“I really hope you’re not too worried about us,” he continued, his shoulders trembling. “We’re doing okay. Mum and Erin have even been getting on. Sometimes it’s harder than others, but we’re managing. We’re battling through. At least… I’m trying to. I just want to make you proud, Dad. I’m sorry if I can’t handle it sometimes.”
I realised I was crying then, tears sliding slowly down my cheeks and coating them with an all too familiar layer of dampness. Wordlessly, I moved closer to Daniel, sinking down beside him. He had his head ducked, pressing the palms of his hands to his face, but looked up when he felt the presence of my outstretched hand.
It took him a moment, his blurred eyes adjusting to the sight of it, before our fingers were once again woven together. Fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle, as they always seemed to.
“There’s something else I have to tell you, Dad,” he said then, squeezing my hand tighter. “There’s… there’s this girl. I met her recently, and she’s not like anybody else I’ve ever known. I still can’t quite believe my luck when I think about it.”
I blinked at him, the movement of my eyelid sending another tear over the brink. “Daniel–”
But he shook his head, not letting me finish. “I just have to tell somebody about her. She’s so smart. Unbelievably beautiful. She has a heart of gold, and she’s nice to everyone. She has the cutest freckles I’ve ever seen and can draw like nobody else. I could go on about her for hours, really, but I don’t know anybody who has the patience to listen. But the thing is… she gets me, Dad. She’s the most unbelievable person I’ve ever met, and she’s sitting here with me right now.”
The result was a bizarre rush of what seemed like every possible feeling; it was like I wanted to burst into a fresh round of tears, cry with laughter and squeal at the top of my lungs, all at the same time. Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to do any of those things. I just let Daniel continue squeezing my hand as the tears flowed from both of us, trying to keep my head above the wave of overwhelming emotion that was threatening to pull me under.
“I know you said to be careful,” Daniel said, his voice low and raw, the words catching in his throat, “when it came to this. I remember that. But the thing is… I’ve found her, Dad. The one you always talked about. The one you said I’d find eventually. I found her. In the beautiful, crazy phenomenon that is Florence Kennedy.”
By now, I was past being able to hold back the sobs; they racked my body as furiously as the boy’s beside me. Forcing out coherent words seemed near enough impossible, but I swallowed, resolving to try anyway.
“Hey,” I sniffed eventually, glancing over at Daniel through a misty glaze of unshed tears, “can I… can I say something?”
This didn’t seem to be what he was expecting; a brief look of surprise crossed his features before he nodded, forcing out a breathy “Yeah.”
I inhaled deeply, making a far-fetched attempt to compose myself. Said task was difficult when I’d been reduced to a snivelling mess, complete with sore eyes and make-up running wild across my face, but I tried my best. This was my sole chance to do what I had in mind, and I wasn’t about to waste it.
“Hi, Mr Bolton,” I began gently, swallowing hard. “I know we didn’t get the chance to meet properly… and it’s awful, because from what I’ve heard, you sound like the most wonderful person. I wish more than anything I could’ve had the opportunity. Daniel thinks so much of you, it’s crazy. I just wish I could’ve gotten here a little sooner.
“I just wanted to let you know how lucky you are to have a son like him. I haven’t known him for long, but I can see how hard the past year’s been – on him and everyone. And yet he’s managed to stay so strong. Certainly stronger than I have.” The tears were brimming, threatening a reappearance, but I willed my voice to stay together. “He’s done such an amazing job in the shop, and I know how much he wishes you could be there to see it.” I gulped. “God knows I don’t deserve somebody like him, but I just want you to know this: I swear, I’ll take care of him. I’ll be there because I know you can’t. The thing is, I know I can’t even come close to being good enough for your son, but I’m going to try my damn hardest to come the closest I can.”
I was crying again by the time the last word passed my lips, and moments later, I felt Daniel’s arms envelope me, pulling me into him. Accepting the invitation readily, I wrapped my own arms around his torso and pressed myself into his side.
“Don’t you ever say that,” he told me, clinging to my body so tightly I wondered if we’d ever be able to separate. Surely if we stayed like this for long enough we’d become permanently moulded, the boundaries where one of us ended and the other started indistinguishable. “Promise me you won’t say that again. You are good enough, and God knows if anyone’s undeserving here it’s got to be me. Just don’t think like that. Please.”
“Your dad would be so proud of you,” I mumbled into his chest, my salty tears seeping into the front of his T-shirt. “I really mean that.”
I felt his hand move towards my back, beginning to rub through the fabric in slow, soothing circles. Almost immediately my tensed muscles relaxed, lending me even closer into his side. “Thank you,” he said simply, his voice thick. “I just… I can’t thank you enough for coming here today.”
“You’re welcome,” was all I managed to whisper back.
And there in the cemetery, enclosed by the warmth of each other’s arms, we sat looking on at the gravestone until the soft orange glow marking the beginning of sunset began to edge its way into the sky. We watched the sun sink gradually below the horizon, each fraction disappearing one by one, until there was nothing left but darkness and the kiss I felt Daniel plant on the top of my head.
***
That night, when I’d slipped past Gram’s questions and retreated to my room, I was overcome by an odd feeling of inspiration, the pressing compulsion to create. So much so that I headed straight for the desk by the window, laying my watercolours and brushes and pencils and everything else in a semi-circular formation around the sheets of paper. I collapsed into the chair, pulling my feet underneath me.
And when my pencil made contact with paper, the strokes came more easily than they ever had before. They didn’t need long before they started taking shape: rough lines right across the paper that arranged themselves in a way I’d never thought I could come up with. They were lines, then an outline, and before long the foundations of an entire picture stretching right across the page.
The watery shades added colour, pale skin hues and a feathery white texture. Soft-edged moonlight streamed through the window, dancing across the page, reducing my pencil to a sharp-edged shadow.
It took form so quickly; an hour of solid work later, when my paintbrush finally clattered onto the wooden tabletop, a weight felt like it had been lifted from my shoulders.
Gingerly, I lifted the paper up to the light, and there they were: two figures, one female and the other male, stood amongst a layer of wispy clouds. Clad in white, golden halos atop their heads like crowns, they looked subtly downward. To anyone else, they were just two angels. Angels with glistening wing tips and their hands enveloped in each other’s. Merely beautiful.
To me, though, they were specific. I knew the messy brown locks of the male too well, the striking brown eyes of the female like I’d been looking into them for years. To me, they were more.
The angels with two daughters.
----------------------------
Okay hi. There we go. Please tell me what you thought, I'm dying to know. I actually cried while writing this because I'm pathetic like that. Or too emotionally invested in my characters. Either one, really.
I hope Wattpad has fixed the read counter by now. It's kind of frustrating that the last chapter barely hit 1,000 reads when I know there are at least 10 times as many regular readers. Hope they've sorted the problem out D: But yeah. Hope you all have a good week :)