Not My Hero

I smile back at him. “I meant, how do you feel about going to the cemetery? Are you okay with it?”

Colton nods, and his eyes dart over to the sidewalk before they come back to me. “I’ll be okay. Plus, I think it’s a good opportunity to introduce you to Brady.”

Cassie opens the passenger door, and I take the bouquet of lilies from her, so she can climb in.

A couple of minutes later, Colton parks outside the Methodist church. I watch as people I’ve never seen before walk into the building.

Cassie opens the door, and it has me asking, “Can we wait until everyone’s inside?”

“Sure.”

A weird feeling spreads through my chest as I watch everyone go inside, and I mutter, “So many people. Did any of them even know my mother, or are they here for my grandparents?”

“Probably here for the press,” Colton replies as he points toward the news vans.

“That’s not good,” Cassie adds. “Stick between Colton and me. If any of them start asking you questions, we’ll leave right away.”

“Okay.”

When the sidewalk is quieter, we climb out. Crossing the road, I ask, “Can we sit in the back somewhere?”

“Of course.”

Colton takes the lead as we near the church. It’s cold inside, and I’m glad I’m wearing a cardigan. My gaze darts over the rows filled with strangers, and knowing my grandparents will be upfront, my eyes settle on the couple in the first row.

I expected to feel something… anything, but instead, there’s nothing as I look at them. Colton takes my hand and pulls me into the second last row, where we take a seat.

A preacher clears his throat and begins to welcome everyone. My eyes go to the massive portrait of my mom that’s standing next to the coffin. She’s smiling in the photo, and even though there’s a haughty gleam in her eyes, the smile seems real.

I keep staring at her eyes, waiting for the guilt to return. But instead, all I feel is uneasy.

There really isn’t anything good I can remember of her.

You hurt me. You made me feel worthless.

I won’t miss you.

Bye, Mom.

When the service is over, we slip out the doors as the other people get up from their seats. Once we’re in the truck, I take a relieved breath.

If Cassie didn’t get flowers for Brady’s grave, I’d ask them if we could just go home. Instead, I keep quiet as Colton steers the vehicle in the direction of the cemetery.

We’re the first ones there, and after climbing out, Colton and I follow Cassie to where Brady is. Colton’s hand finds mine, and he interweaves our fingers tightly.

My eyes dart over the words on the headstone. He was only sixteen.

Sadness fills my heart because his life ended so soon. I’m sure he would’ve been just as happy as I am if he had held out.

“Sorry for only coming now, my baby,” Cassie whispers as she sets the flowers down by the headstone. “I miss you so much.”

Tears well in my eyes, and I struggle to blink them away.

Cassie glances at us and tearfully says, “Brady’s smile could warm the coldest day.”

“Yeah,” Colton murmurs. Tugging at my hand, he leads me away, then says, “Give her some time alone with him. We can come back another time.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, not wanting to keep Colton from Cassie and Brady.

“Yeah, it’s her first time here since we buried him.”

“Have you been visiting him?” I ask.

Colton nods. “I still struggle… leaving him alone.”

I give his hand a squeeze and then notice all the people from the church gathering around the fresh gravesite. “We can just stand to the side.”

“Okay.”

We stop under a tree, and I watch as my grandfather and other men carry the coffin. His eyes are red as if he’s been crying.

I guess even monsters have someone who mourns them.

The preacher says a couple of words, and as they start to lower the coffin, my grandfather gets up and surprises me by walking toward me. I didn’t think he saw me.

His eyes are green, like my mother’s. Just as cold, as well.

“So you’re Brie,” he grumbles, a sneer around his mouth as if he just tasted something terrible.

“Yes.”

Colton tightens his hold on my hand as my grandfather’s gaze sweeps over me. “I should’ve known you’d disobey me. I now understand why your mother always complained about you. You can’t even wear black for her funeral.”

I stare at the old man, and with Colton next to me, I feel braver than ever. “I figured black is for when you’re grieving. I have nothing to mourn.”

My grandfather lets out a bitter chuckle that sounds more like a bark. “That my poor daughter had to raise…” his eyes snap over me with disgust, “you. I should’ve forced her to give you up for adoption.”

“You should’ve,” I agree. Maybe then I would’ve had a happy life from the start.