Chapter Fourteen
I was outside again, in the cold. This time though, I was slightly more prepared, with a thick black coat layered over my sea foam green skater dress. My black woolen tights were barely visible thanks to the long black boots covering my legs almost up to my knees.
The harsh wind was no longer a shock to my system, having been walking outside for a good fifteen minutes already. My body had become pretty immune to the frigid weather by now. The walk was long and lonely, but I didn't want to come here with my family, this was something I liked to do alone. It was my time to do this. The sky was filled with white clouds and was shockingly bright even though there was no sun to be seen. The hard grass crunched underneath me as I continued my trek.
Soon enough, I caught sight of our local church. The building was old, made out of stone giving the edges a jagged look. The large wooden door looked imposing and intimidating, but the wood also held a slight warmth to it. I walked past it and round the side of the church, counting the rows as I went past. Row eight. I walked some more, looking for a tiny head stone amongst the larger, and more eccentric ones.
I soon found the familiar slate grey marble stone. A gold plaque - much like the one embodied into the bench by the park - sat in the center, it's engraving sitting deep and proud for all to read.
'Emma Joe Carter lies here. So young and taken so soon. Have a fulfilling journey, wherever your precious soul has gone.
Loved and missed by all.'
It was so simple, but so beautiful. I can still remember all of us sitting there, thinking up of things we could write. This seemed to fit her the most. We couldn't decide which one, either the one on the bench or the one that read here, either way though, we got them both. The council were gracious enough to allow us to place a plaque there, reminding all of the community of Emma, and of their work and donations that helped us through our younger lives. We could never thank them enough.
Sadly, Emma wasn't alive long enough to really reap the benefits of their hard work.
Instead, she was ripped from our lives quicker than we ever expected; quicker than anyone would have wanted.
I took my coat off and placed it on the ground. I wanted to talk to her but I wasn't about to get my clothes wet and muddy. Instead, I sat upon my jacket, folding my legs criss-cross and finally letting out a deep breath that I had been holding in. In my left hands, I clutched a little vase, a blue glass one with intricate flower and paisley designs drew in gold to match the epitaph. Inside were a few fake white Begonias, mixed with a handful of artificial forget-me-nots. A perfect bunch for what I wanted to say.
"You'll never be forgotten, I’m always thinking of you, and I’m sorry for not being able to do enough to help you." Saying the words out loud was a difficult task for me, I was getting choked up already, and I’d only been here for a minute or so.
“It’s been another year. They go so quick. I don’t like it. I don’t like feeling as if I’ve left you behind for another year. There are all these things that-” the sigh I let out shuddered through me before I continued. “All these years that you’ve missed, that you’ll never get to experience. I can never apologise enough for what happened, but I want you to know that I’m sorry, that I’m still really sorry.”
And it was true, no matter how long I lived, I would never stop being sorry for what happened. I can’t go back and change it, I can only move forwards, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to move ahead without her, nine years later, and I still want her to be back at my side. Almost a decade since she was gone. That’s a long time. But it certainly doesn’t feel like it.
“Sometimes, it still doesn’t seem real that you’re gone. It feels like this is all fake. I wish it were.” But I knew it wasn’t. “And I’m really not sure if you can hear me, of even if you want to hear me, but I’m always here. Always thinking of you. Always missing you. Things could have been so different.” I wiped my eyes, sniffling.
“There’s not much else I can think of saying. Oh, but there is one thing; it’s kinda important too, I should have told you before. I got a heart.”
I sat there for what must have been thirty minutes, ignoring the wind and biting chill. Ignoring the slight dampness coming through my jacket. Ignoring the world. I was in another word now, one where Emma was there too. One where we both got our hearts that we needed and we were both hyper, giggly, happy.
Alive.
I explained everything, from the ups and downs with mum, and Daniel’s new obsessions. To my new heart, and the person who seemed quite attached to it. It felt funny relaying my entire life story of the last year.
“And I would have visited you more – honest – but I was busy and really ill, so it’s not like I could do much. Or like Mum would have let me do much, you know how she gets. She still the same, over protective as ever. Well, I suppose she’s worse than you knew her. After you…well, everyone changed after you died. Some of us just hide it better than others.”
My tears were long gone, leaving my cheeks feeling tight and frozen from when the cold air had dried them before I could rub them away. I just sat there and talked. I talked to her as if she were still here. I talked to her as if she could hear me. I talked to her as if nothing had ever changed. I wish it didn’t, but I know that it was part of making me the person I am today. I finally stood up and brushed dirt away from the back of my jacket. I contemplated putting it back on, but didn’t feel like walking round with a damp, mud stained jacket, even if I were only taking a walk around a rather desolate cemetery.
I gathered the material and rested it loosely over my forearm. I check the flowers again, making sure I had the old faded ones in my coat pocket. Taking a second to admire the new flowers and vase, I finally began to wander around. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I had nothing more to say, but no desire to leave. I felt like if I left, I would be saying goodbye again for another yea
I walked around, looking at the various head stones. Some were small plots, like Emma’s, designed for holding pots of ashes. Others were large plots of ground. With equally large head stones. The combination of old and new, big and small really drove the message home: everyone goes someday. We all tried to pretend, but we all knew that we each had our own time, but the scary thing was: it was unpredictable.
Doctors can say what they like. 'You probably won't make it past ten years. With your condition, and the way things are looking now, your twenty first birthday may never happen'. But they never know for sure. They’re only ever possibilities.
But then, would it make it any better if we did know?
Flowers rested against grave stones and statues. Some bright with colour, lighting up the small area they consumed. Others were tired, withered, and dead. That's why I prefer the fake ones. They out last the elements, the colour stays stronger for longer, and much like love, they never die. Some plots were bare, looking uncared for and lonely.
Forgotten.
I won't ever forget. I can't forget. I need to remember; we should all remember.
As far as I could see, there was only one other person in the garden. An old man stood, arms clasped behind his back, head bowed to the floor. It was one of the few plots that always had fresh flowers on it. Always different colours, but always the same flowers. They were pretty ones, kind of like a rose, but I think they’re peonies. The man was stock still, oblivious as I had been to the outside world. He didn't even notice when I passed him. Walking further still, I was directly behind the church, from here, I walked straight on, figuring that I’d take the short cut through the woods behind the buildings. It offered more privacy and I was likely to get home quicker. I needed to get out of the cold now. I needed a nice cuddle with my cat - Bobbi - and a good movie. Just some quiet time. At times it can feel like the world is moving around us too fast, we're rushing to catch it up, make up for lost time. Sometimes it's good to just stop trying to keep up, and go at your own pace. Take a break. That’s what I needed now.
As I neared a large statue of an angel, I heard a voice. It sounded familiar, but the emotion behind it was one that I never would have thought capable. It was raw, new, and for a brief moment, visible for the entire world to see.
"We all miss you so much," he was saying. "And I can't believe you were that sad." Then, like flipping a switch, the sadness morphed into rage. "And I can’t believe you actually fucking did it! You haven’t a bloody clue! You never did. You never stopped, looked around you, and noticed that you did have people who cared, I cared. You were so selfish. I could have helped you, I would have helped you if you would have listened to me, even just for a second."
I held my breath, knowing that I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be listening in on this, I should be leaving, walking past right now. But I couldn’t. I’d never heard him like this, and I have a feeling that even his closest friends didn’t know about this side of him. Sure, they knew a different side than I did, but it wasn't this side. That I was certain about, he didn’t seem like the type to freely show his emotions, particularly ones as powerful as these.
I was too busy having an internal battle with myself about whether to leave or not that I didn’t notice the sky darkening ominously. When I did notice was the raindrops that started to fall on me.
“Crap,” I said, hastily pulling on my coat, covering my head with the hood. Then it hit me: I’d been busted.
“Rosie.” He said my name so calmly, it unnerved me.
Giving up any pretenses, I stepped round from the head stone, taking down my hood so that he could see me properly, though I was sure he already knew that it was definitely me.
“Were you spying on me?”
A normal person would have lied. Unfortunately, I am not normal. I am nowhere near normal.
“Yes.” I cringed straight after I said that.
“Thought so.” He didn’t say anything else, just turned in the direction of the woods and began to walk.
“Wait. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” I hurried after him.
“No, you’re not sorry. How can you ‘accidently’ eaves drop on someone?”
Fair point there. “I don’t know. I’m seriously sorry though.”
He didn’t think I was sincere. “Whatever.”
“No really-”
“Just shut up Rosie,” he yelled, whirling around to face me. I flinched back at his tone, my steps faltering. I began to apologize again, when he started shouting again. “No, don’t start apologizing again. Why when you don’t even mean it? Say what you like, I don’t care.”
“Look, I’m truly sorry, I don’t see why you’re yelling at me.”
“No, well you wouldn’t, would you?” he laughed, though there was no humor in his eyes, or in the sound he produced. ”You just don’t get it. You don’t care what’s gone on, do you ever even think about other people and-”
“You’re asking me! Seriously?”
“Yeah, you just don’t seem to give a damn. You’re nosey, inconsiderate-”
“No! Don’t even go there. I know you’re angry right now…”
“Angry. That doesn’t begin to cover it. I could deal with you annoying me at school, texting me, and working your way into my home life, but this. Listening into me here, that takes insolence to a whole new level.”
Wow.
That got me deep. A lump formed in my throat, but I ignored it, swallowed it down. He didn’t seem to care.
“And this stalking thing has to stop. Now. You followed me to the cemetery, that’s just sick.”
“Yeah, well you’re not the only one who’s lost somebody.” I said, my voice defeated, and eyes glassy with unshed tears.
“Please, like you would know,” he spat bitterly.
“I do know, I know quite well actually!” Some of my fire was beginning to return. “I was here for a reason, and not to just follow you!”
“Alright then. Care to share?
By now we were half way through the woods, free from any prying eyes, or ears.
“Twenty second of March, two-thousand-and-four.”
“What.”
“Normal day, normal trip to the park.”
“Rosie-”
“Hush.”
The rain was still falling thickly, but with the shelter provided by the trees, it was more of a soft drizzle. I sat down on a thick tree branch growing rather horizontally. I had to jump to get up, but quickly settled.
“I had a twin. We were eight, my brother was eleven. We were all young. Me and Emma had Turner Syndrome. That comes with quite a few complications. Sometimes, it causes things like ADHD. We both had that, it was quite bad when we were younger.”
“You really don’t have to be telling me this. I get it, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“Just shut up for a sec and listen to me, please.
“We were at the park, Emma was on the swings, and Daniel was pushing her. I wanted on the see-saw, called her over. She got distracted, wanted to do something else as soon as I mentioned it. She twisted to see, tried to jump off the swing. She went flying and landed badly. Her body was already so frail, she was more effected by the Syndrome than I was, her heart started to fail quicker than mine. So was so weak, her neck snapped easily. She was dead.”
He let out a sigh. “Rosie,” he said, “Come here.” He sat next to me and put an arm round my shoulders, squeezing me to him in some sort of half hug.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” I sniffed, leaning my head onto his shoulder. “Me too.”
“I’ll walk you home.”
Callum stood up and waited for me to jump down from the tree. I wiped my tears away and started walking, carrying on through the woods with my hood back in place. Callum softly caught hold of my hand and laced my finger through his. We walked home, together. Silently supporting one another, without any words needed.
As always, thanks for reading! x