21
Christmas comes and goes. I’ve exchanged a few texts with Riggs. A Merry Christmas. A thank you for his thoughtful gift. A few grumbles about my parents making me want to pull my hair out. A short rundown of his father’s reaction to the news that he doesn’t plan to enter the draft.
Each text lifts a weight. Each exchange repairs a little crack in my heart. Bolsters my confidence a tiny amount. Removes a brick from my partially reconstructed wall.
I could be foolish. I could be making a huge mistake.
He could just hurt me again.
But...
I don’t know.
Something quiet inside of me whispers that he won’t. Not again. A small but strong voice keeps telling me to take the chance. Because if I’m being honest, I never truly let him in. Not really. Not all the way. And if I want that courage from him, then I should be brave enough to do the same.
Two days after Christmas, after I’ve already returned to my apartment at BU, I have to turn around and go back home. I wasn’t expecting Flannagan’s Headstones & Monument Company to return my call, given that it’s the holidays, but two hours after leaving my voicemail, Josie Flannagan called me back and invited me to the shop.
I pull up to the building in Ivy’s car. She went home with Kelley for Christmas and left me the keys. “You shouldn’t be driving Baby in the snow,” she’d scolded, ever the mother hen. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but I’m thankful for it now. Midwest winters can fucking suck it.
“Hi, Mrs. Flannagan,” I say when I walk in. She’s sitting at the front desk, and just like the last time I was here, I have to suppress a shudder. It’s so strange being surrounded by these empty headstones and grave markers. I get that they need display pieces, but it just reminds me of Bran’s cemetery, and without him there, it’s cold and dark feeling.
“Bailey,” she greets with a warm smile. “Hold on, I’ll grab Michael.”
I fidget as she walks to the back, my debit card burning a hole in my wallet. I swear, I can feel the reverberations through my crossbody purse all the way to my heart. I’m excited and scared all at once. It’s happening. It’s happening, Bran.
“Bailey,” Mr. Flannagan says as he steps through the door. I smile at how his greeting is the same as his wife’s, and I wonder if that will happen with my partner later in life. If we’ll adopt each other’s mannerisms. A brief picture of Riggs flashes through my mind, and I shake it away. Not now.
“Hey, Mr. Flannagan,” I say with a nervous smile. “I wanted to go ahead and give the green light for my order. I guess you wanted me to come by so I can pay for it?” I dig through my purse and pull out my wallet. “I’ve got the money now.”
“That’s great, Bailey.” His smile is warm. “I can have Josie ring you up. I want to show you this first.” He motions toward the back, and I assume he wants to go over my order one last time.
“Sure,” I chirp. “Hey, do you know about how long it will take? Before it’s finished and can be erected, I mean.” I walk toward him, and he winks, a funny little glint in his eye.
When I follow him into the back, he walks me to a table, and I see a large slab of black granite lying flat on the worktable. It’s a little larger than the one I ordered, but the color and basic shape is the same.
When we get a little closer, I get a better view of the front, and I can’t breathe. Tears immediately fill my eyes and I let out a sob. I reach out and run my fingers over the smooth surface, then trace them over the etchings there.
Brandon Barnes
Beloved Brother & Friend
“To be an artist is to believe in life.”–
Henry Moore
It’s exactly how I envisioned it, except in the upper corner, there is an additional etching. I’d admired this image in the catalogue, but I didn’t order it because, at the time, I couldn’t afford it. It’s a paint pallet with little splatters of paint on it and a paintbrush lying next to it.
It’s absolutely beautiful.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper.
“I’m glad you think so,” he says softly. “We went ahead and upgraded the size to the largest the cemetery allows, and we added the etching that you originally were admiring. And I upgraded your sealant. It will last longer this way, and these are all at no additional charge. It’s on the house.”
“Thank you.” I can’t say anything else. His kindness means more than he can ever know. It’s the kindness Bran should have been afforded when he first came out, and I hope, wherever he is, he can feel it.
“It’s our pleasure, Bailey. We’re so happy you’re doing this for your brother. We want to help any way we can.”
“Do you think we can have it erected by February 9th?” The day he died.
“I think we can, as long as you get the paperwork squared away.”
I wince. That’s going to be the next hurdle. Pretty sure it’s my dad’s name on the deed for the cemetery plot.
“Right,” I croak. “I’ll take care of it.”
The paperwork is nestled safely in my bag in Ivy’s car. I square my shoulders. I’ve got another stop to make while I’m here, and it’s not going to be an easy one.
When I walkthrough the front door of my parents’ house, I’m met with my mother’s wide eyes. I didn’t knock like usual. I haven’t entered this house without knocking for a long time.
“Bailey,” she breathes, before jumping from her seat and coming to me. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to be back on campus for work?” She ushers me out of my jacket and over to the table. I don’t have a chance to take off my shoes, so I’m tracking dirty snow through the house, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“I’m glad you’re here,” my mother exclaims. “Did you change your mind about spending New Year’s with us?”
“No, Mom. I still have to work. Is Dad here?” She blinks at me, and I don’t miss the way her face falls.
“He is. I’ll get him.”