When my eyes land on the sign reading, ‘Beck Hill Cemetery,’ I pause by the gates when my insides begin to churn, “Brandon,” I turn around when I hear Rachael calling me. “She’s half way along, on the left hand side. It’s the one with the white headstone.” She tells me in a softer voice before winding her window back up closed.
The sound of footsteps drawing up close behind me has me turning around again, and I step to the side to let the woman pass by me when I see her heading in the same direction. “Thanks,” she says quietly.
“Yeah … no problem.” I answer, though she probably didn’t hear me anyway. She’s walking briskly with her head lowered, and she’s pulling the hood of her jacket down over her face to shield herself from the rain with one hand, while carrying a bouquet of white flowers with the other.
Flowers.
Shit. I should’ve brought some fucking flowers.
I glance around when I make my way through the large, cast iron gates and along the pathway. My legs become weak when my eyes land on a bright, white headstone, surrounded by flowers over on the left.
Making my way over, I take the locket out from my pocket before sitting beside her.
“I’m so sorry, Holly,” my vision becomes blurred, but I blink the tears away. I promised myself that I wouldn’t do this. I told myself not to break down in front of her. “I thought that you, um … that you might wanna have this. It’s you and me, Holl’s.” I hang the locket around the cross that’s on the top of her grave. “It was supposed to be me and you ... I swear to God, I swear to fucking God that I’m gonna find out who did this. I swear it. If it’s the last thing I fucking do. They’re not gonna get away with taking you from me.”
“Ssshh, come on,” I didn’t notice Rachael was behind me until she I hear her speak, and feel her placing her hands around my shoulders. “It’s okay, Brandon. It’s okay.” I grip onto her, and then I do it.
For the first time since all of this started, I break down.
I allow my unshed tears to finally fall.
I cry.
***
We stayed in the cemetery for a little while longer before heading over to meet with Layla at the bar. I’ll be working my first shift there this weekend, and though she originally only needed somebody to work one or two nights on the weekends, she told me that I could always pick up a little extra overtime during the week if I wanted.
I open the trunk and grab all my things out. When I say all of my things, I mean one bag of clothes and my guitar.
You see, when my mom and dad had decided that I was no longer a part of their family, which was right after the cops charged me, Rachael went around to their house to speak with them. She wanted to make them understand that I hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. But, they wouldn’t listen. I knew they wouldn’t. And, if I’m to be completely honest, it didn’t and still doesn’t bother me in the slightest. They’ve never been the world’s greatest parents. Ever since I was nine years old, I’ve pretty much been taking care of myself anyways.
But, Rach can be a pretty persistent person when she wants to be. They told her that they’d already packed my things up into bags, and that they were in the garage, ready to be disposed of. She told me she gave them a piece of her mind right there and then, which made me laugh. I could just imagine the looks over both of their faces when they were confronted with a seething Rachael. That’s definitely something I’d never want to be faced with, let me tell you that much.
Anyways, luckily for me, she managed to take a bag full of clothes and my guitar on her way out. If she hadn’t, then the only things I’d have that I’d be able to call my own would be the clothes I’m standing in right now.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” Rachael asks as she walks around to meet me at the back of the SUV. “It doesn’t seem right that you’ll be spending Christmas on your own.”
“No, I don’t think so, Rach,” I drop my things down on the ground before pushing the trunk door closed. “Listen, tell you mom and dad thanks from me, alright?
“You could thank them yourself over the turkey dinner if you weren’t so stubborn,” she folds her arms across her chest and pulls a frown.
I pull her into my arms and laugh lightly, “You know, you look and sound just like your little sister when you do shit like that.”
“Call me soon, okay?” she says before making her way back over to the driver’s side.
I wait on the sidewalk and watch as she drives away. When she turns the corner, I throw my bag over my left shoulder and pick up my guitar while reading the large sign directly ahead of me.
‘Welcome to Seattle’s College of Performing Arts & Music.’
PART TWO COMING SOON!
Misguided Truths: Part One Page 10