The Girl Who Digs Graves

by Willie E. Dalton

  “Don’t you get lonely?” he asked.

  I smiled. “Because I don’t have friends or family?”

  “Yeah.” He brushed his long dark hair from his face.

  “Sometimes. Do you have friends and family?” I asked.

  “Some,” he nodded.

  “Don’t you still get lonely sometimes?”

  He looked a little embarrassed. “Sometimes,” he said.

  The sun was no longer hidden behind the clouds, and it was getting hot out just standing still.

  “I need to get back to work. I’d like to have at least half of this grave dug before it gets too hot.” I turned from him and walked back to the plot.

  “Can I help?” he asked.

  His question caught me off guard. No one had ever offered to help me dig a grave before, except Ray. I thought for a moment while I scanned his face for sincerity.

  “Come back tonight at eight, in work clothes.” I looked back at him over my shoulder as I walked away. He was smiling.

  The grave was half finished when I went inside to have lunch and cool off. I wondered if Raphael would really come back tonight. Part of me hoped that he would, it would be a nice change to have someone around.

  After lunch I took a short nap, read a few chapters in my library book (a thriller), and made myself dinner of macaroni and cheese, baked chicken, and a big salad. I found myself watching the hours slowly tick by. At ten minutes until eight, I put my boots on and walked toward the cemetery.

  As I got closer to the plot, I saw Raphael walking towards me in a tight black t-shirt, worn jeans, and black hiking boots, with his shiny black hair pulled back into a ponytail. He still looked too clean to dig a grave.

  “Hey there,” he grinned, walking up to me.

  “Hi,” I smiled.

  “You didn’t think I’d come back did you?” he asked.

  “It was a fifty-fifty chance,” I replied. “I guess you will need a shovel and some gloves.”

  “Do you have extras?”

  “You can use Ray’s stuff,” I said.

  “Is that OK?” he asked.

  “Yes, he’d be happy his things are getting use. Follow me.” I turned to walk back to the shed behind the cabin.

  “Do you live here?” Raphael asked.

  “I do,” I said, handing him the gloves and shovel. It was nice getting them out of the shed again.

  “It doesn’t creep you out, living all by yourself in a graveyard?”

  I laughed. “I was raised here, and I work here. You were the one out exploring a cemetery for fun.”

  “Hmm,” he mumbled. “You might have a point.”

  We walked back toward our work.

  “Why do you like wearing all black and hanging out in cemeteries?” I asked him.

  “Well, I just like the color. And I find cemeteries peaceful: I like to think about what kinds of lives the people led, and what they’re up to now.”

  “What they’re up to now?” I laughed. “They’re not up to anything, they’re dead. I get the peacefulness though.”

  “You don’t believe in the afterlife?” he asked. “You’ve never seen a ghost or gotten a cold chill out here? You can explain everything you’ve ever seen?”

  I looked at him for a long moment and thought about his question. I must have stared at him too long, because he said, “If you keep thinking, we won’t get any work done.”

  I nodded, and he helped me pull the tarp back.

  “Is there a certain way to do this?” he asked, looking down at the bare earth.

  I pointed to some lines I had marked in paint on the grass.

  “Stay inside those perimeters, and I’ll let you know when we’re deep enough.”

  He nodded and started digging. We didn’t talk, we just worked. Once or twice I saw him watching my technique and trying to do the same. Raphael stopped long before I did to wipe away the sweat dripping down his face and get a drink of water.

  “You do this every day?” he asked, as he took off his shirt and wiped his face.

  “Pretty much, since I was about eleven or twelve.” I watched him for a moment. He was in decent shape, but I could tell it was gym work, not manual labor. It was nice to look at all the same.

  I nodded to his shirt in his hand. “No fair, I can’t do that.”

  “Who says? It’s just us, and it’s dark out here,” he smiled.

  I knew he was flirting, but I had on a sports bra, so I wouldn’t exactly be indecent. Raphael didn’t do a great job of hiding his surprise when I stripped off my own t-shirt and tossed it up on the side of the grave. He recovered well though.

  He stared at me. “I don’t mean to be a creep, but you have a really great figure.”

  I felt my cheeks burn at the compliment. “Um, thanks.”

  “Don’t you realize that?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t suppose so. I mean, I’m not pretty in the traditional, girly way. I’m quite muscular, and I don’t really have any curves.” I looked down at my arms and stomach. True, I was thin, but I always thought I had a boy’s body type: straight hips, and lean, almost gristly muscle.

  “You have enough curves.” His eyes took in my body in a smooth, yet quick glance.

  I think he could tell I was getting uncomfortable, because he shifted his eyes away from me and picked his shovel back up.

  “Well, let’s get this finished, shall we?” he asked.

  Once again we shoveled in near silence, the clanging of our tools against hidden rocks and soft fall of the dirt our only soundtrack. It was getting too dark to see, and I heard a very soft roar of thunder a few miles away.

  “Damn,” I said. “We need to hurry, it’ll be storming here soon. I’ll run to the shed and grab my lights so we can see what we’re doing.”

  Raphael’s eyes widened. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No, I’m fine, just keep digging.” It was deep enough now that I had to pull myself out of the hole.

  It only occurred to me after I walked away that Raphael might not have been comfortable being left by himself in a grave after dark. The thought made a cruel smile cross my lips, but at the same time I felt a bit guilty.

  I brought back one of the big battery-operated lights; the light itself wasn’t as good as electric, but with the storm coming I didn’t want to waste time running cords. It would be enough to get finished.

  Raphael looked relieved when I switched on the light.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to him.

  “For what?” he asked.

  “For leaving you in a grave in the dark. I forget that would make most people uncomfortable.” I jumped back in and started digging.

  “You do this every day; I figured I would survive,” he said.

  The light helped, and I realized we were closer to being done than I had thought. It thundered again—this time, closer.

  “Hurry,” I said. “We need to be out of here before it rains too much, otherwise it’s damn hard to get out of this hole.”

  He nodded and kept shoveling.

  The rain started, just a drizzle at first. It was enough to cool us off and turn the dirt on our skin and clothes to mud.

  I saw the first flash of lightning.

  “OK, time to go,” I said.

  Moving to pull myself out of the grave, my hand slipped. I fell backwards, scraping my head on the edge of a rock I didn’t see. My hand immediately went to my new wound as I sat there, stunned.

  “Are you all right?” Raphael was leaning over me, offering a hand to help me up.

  I nodded. “I think so.” I took his hand.

  He started to toss his shovel up on the side of the grave.

  “Just leave it. We’ll cover the shovels and the lamp with the tarps down here—that way we aren’t carrying a bunch of metal back through the storm.”

  “That’s smart,” he said. “Here, let me give you a boost.”

  “I’m OK,” I said reluctantly.

  “Come on, there
’s no sense in not taking my help while I’m here.”

  I was being stubborn, but relented. I started to pull myself up, and he helped push my legs on up and out of the grave. He was out just a moment after me.

  We stood there looking at each other a moment, only seeing shadows through the rain.

  “Are you leaving?” I asked.

  “Do you want me to?” he asked.

  I knew the answer to that, but I wasn’t sure I was supposed to say it.

  “You can come back to the cabin for a shower, and wait until the storm passes,” I offered, and felt my stomach flutter.

  “That would be great,” he said, and followed me.

  We took off our boots on the porch and went inside.

  “This is really nice,” he said, looking around.

  “It’s small, but it’s everything I need,” I said.

  “No, it’s really cozy,” he said as I turned on the fire.

  “Do you want to shower first?” I offered. “There’s a black robe hanging in the bathroom you can wear after, and I’ll wash your clothes.”

  “That would be amazing,” he smiled.

  His face (and the rest of him) was covered with mud; somehow it only made his eyes seem even bluer.

  I turned on the bathroom light, and he took the side of my face in his hand—I froze. Is he going to kiss me?

  He turned my head toward the light, and I let him.

  “You’re bleeding,” he said.

  I touched the side of my neck, and came away with blood, streaked with dirt. “It’s from that fall. It doesn’t hurt too much.”

  He took a washcloth from the shelf and wet it with cold water. He gently wiped away the blood, and parted my hair so he could see the injury.

  “You don’t need stitches,” he said as he kept the rag pressed to the side of my head and neck.

  I was getting lightheaded, standing so long in one spot in the harsh light, so close to him. I put my hand over the rag and stepped back. I looked up at him and realized for the first time just how tall he really was.

  I cleared my throat and forced myself to speak. “Thank you.” I smiled. “Shower is all yours. Just toss out your dirty clothes.”

  He smiled back at me and gave a slight nod. There was a look in his eyes, though. It made me shiver.

  He closed the door, and I walked into the kitchen to make a pot of tea for the two of us. I thought about the way his face looked with his hair pulled back. I wanted to trace his jawline with my fingertips. He was striking to look at. I bit my lip at the realization that I truly was attracted to him. It had only happened a few times before in real life; it was usually only characters in movies or the books I had read.

  I put the tea leaves into the pot and filled it with hot water. While the tea steeped, I pulled two mugs from the shelf and set them down. Suddenly, I was aware of someone behind me.

  I turned around to see Raphael there, his long black hair clung to his shoulders, wet from the shower. He was naked except for the white towel around his waist—his blue eyes like striking pieces of lapis.

  I stared at him. My brain wasn’t even attempting to think of words to say; my eyes were just taking in his beauty.

  After several seconds of silence he smiled. “Where is your washing machine? I’ll put these in.”

  My brain finally clicked back on, and I realized he was holding his muddy wet clothes. “Oh, it’s in the hall behind the closet doors.”

  “Thanks,” he smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t see the robe in the bathroom.”

  I remembered I had hung it in the back of the closet. It had been Ray’s, and I’d had no use for it. I retrieved it and laid it on the back of the couch.

  “Theres tea in the pot on the counter, if you’d like a cup. I’m going to get in the shower,” I called as I walked into the bathroom.

  I went to the trouble to brush my teeth and hair after my shower, realizing for a change that I cared at least a little about my appearance.

  I put on the clean clothes I had brought into the bathroom with me, and walked out. Raphael had put on the robe and was sitting the chair nearest the fire drinking a cup of tea.

  He looked over at me. “Feeling better?”

  “Feeling cleaner,” I said. “Aren’t you burning up being near the fire? I only turned it on until we dried off a little.”

  “I can take the heat.” He winked at me.

  I smiled and poured myself a cup of tea. I sat down on the couch, a little farther from the flames.

  He got out of his chair, walked over and sat down next to me.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said.

  “You already know more about me than I know about you,” I said.

  He nodded and sipped his tea. “What would you like to know?”

  “Where are you from? How old are you? What do you do for a living?” I asked. “Those seem like good places to start.”

  “Kansas, twenty-five, and I get by with photography,” he answered.

  “What brought you to Virginia?”

  “Just traveling, taking pictures… Trying to figure where I’m supposed to be,” he said.

  “And you’ve been on your own this whole time?”

  “Well, I didn’t start on my own.” He shifted a little in his seat.

  Something in his demeanor changed when he said that. A girlfriend, perhaps? My heart sank; of course a beautiful guy like this had a girlfriend.

  “Who are—or were—you traveling with?” I hesitated on asking, but I was too curious.

  “A couple of friends from college, and my girlfriend. We all made it as far as Indiana together. She decided she liked one of my friends better than me, and I continued exploring on my own.” He shrugged, but I could see the memory was still a little tender.

  Without thinking, I placed my hand on his leg. “I’m sorry.”

  He smiled and placed his hand over mine; it was warm and strong. “It is what it is. If bad stuff didn’t happen, it couldn’t lead us to good stuff.”

  I thought about that. I'd had plenty of death in my life, but I was almost numb to it at this point. Besides that, I just had the day to day: nothing great, nothing awful. It didn’t seem like anything led me anywhere.

  “So, Hel, what do you do around here when you aren’t working?” he asked.

  He moved his hand to sip his tea, so I moved mine; I was disappointed. “I read mostly, or listen to music. Sometimes I watch movies.”

  “What do you like to read?” he asked.

  I pointed to a wall of books. “Well, I started with Ray’s collection; that has everything from medical textbooks to horror novels to religious works. So I pretty much read everything. Ray insisted I be well read, and well rounded.”

  Raphael nodded, seeming quite impressed. “Music?”

  “I guess what you would consider oldies. I grew up listening to the music Ray grew up on. I listen to newer music, too, but those are my favorites.” I pointed to an old record player and stacks of vinyl.

  His eyes lit up. “May I?”

  I smiled. “You may.”

  He seemed quite focused going through the stacks of records, then pulled one out of the sleeve and put it on to play. I knew the song immediately: Sam Cooke’s Bring it On Home to Me.

  Raphael walked over to me and offered me his hand. I took it.

  I had only ever danced with another guy like this, at my junior prom, and I hadn’t liked him enough to give it much thought. But this, this guy, I was liking a lot. We danced around the cabin smiling at each other.

  “You’re a good dancer,” he said.

  “Ray taught me,” I said. “I know I talk about him a lot, but he was the only person in my life for a long time. I mean, I’ve had boyfriends; I’m not a hermit. But he was the only consistent thing.”

  “Talk about him all you want.” He spun me around and caught me off guard.

  “And how did you learn to dance so well?” I asked. “I don’t know of many guys that can do this.”
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br />   “My parents wanted me to be well rounded too,” he said.

  I grinned and laid my head on his shoulder just as the song ended. I sighed and lifted my head. “That was nice.”

  “Another?” he asked as a new song played.

  I glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. “I’d really love to, but it’s getting late. I have to work tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” he hesitated. “My clothes are finished washing, but still need to dry.”

  I laughed at my forgetfulness as he went to put them in the dryer.

  “If you need to go to bed, I can wear the robe home and bring it back or something,” he offered.

  That was thoughtful.

  “I’ll be OK tomorrow,” I said. “That’s what coffee is for. Would you like to watch a movie while we wait?”

  “Yes, that would be nice,” he said.

  I had lots of music, and lots of books, thanks to Ray; but I didn’t have a big movie collection. It was a pretty fast decision for us to settle on The Lost Boys. I turned off the fire so the only light was a dim one coming from the bathroom.

  We sat close to one another on the couch, and I was very aware of his body near mine. For a change, I was having trouble watching the movie. I just wanted to watch this person next to me, study his face and the curve of his shoulders. I tried not to stare too much. I didn’t know what this was, or what to do next. It had been the only time in my adult life that I felt I needed a girlfriend to talk to.

  About halfway into the movie, Raphael leaned down to me and brushed my hair back behind my ear so he could ask, “Is it all right if I put my arm around you?”

  My lungs refused to take in enough air to answer, so I simply nodded. He put his arm around me, and I sighed as I relaxed into his body. The softness of the robe brushed against my skin, and I could feel the firmness of his muscle underneath. The smell of soap and shampoo lingered on his skin and hair, but the products smelled different on him than they did me.

  “You smell good,” I whispered against him.

  “So do you,” he said against the top of my head.

  This is what heaven feels like, I thought to myself as I drifted to sleep in his arms.

  A loud sound in the movie caused me to startle awake. I focused my eyes to see a vampire screaming and dissolving in a bathtub of garlic water.