It’d been five months since I went to my first A.A. meeting. Each day was new, with fresh challenges and frustrations that tested my patience and determination to succeed as a sober person. Without my sponsor… my friend, my love… I wouldn’t have come even this far. Jesse was my rock.
He wasn’t with me today. It had been my request to come here alone, although he insisted I borrow his car. The CD played the moment I’d started the dirty brown hatchback, and out of the speakers floated our song. It melted my heart every time I heard it. And I was amazed, that after all these months, he still knew exactly what song to play for me.
I was here for someone else I loved… and still loved. The feel, the taste, the smell of Christian was mine any time I wanted it. All I had to do was select from the many mementos I’d collected after he died. I’d stopped sleeping with the toga sheet, but never washed it before it found a home in my collection.
Even more vast than the collection were the memories stored in my head. Some of them were fuzzy, but the ones that were clear felt pressed against my brain for all eternity. Just in case I forgot any of them, I’d started a journal, writing down each recollection as it popped up.
For a time I felt guilty about my obsessive behavior because of Jesse. I questioned my actions, and thought that I should be all-or-nothing with him. Only when I found out that Jesse had his own box of memories of his dad, and when David explained the grieving process to me, did I understand that what I was doing was normal.
As I continued down the concrete path, I recalled nothing but beautiful things about Christian. Like the first time we danced after he plucked me from the crowd. Our first kiss. The times spent in each other’s sweat-moistened arms, reluctant to part ways for just one night. Yes, we’d been drunk most of the time, but in retrospect that was a big part of why I was here today. I’d learned to be my own person, wiser from the tragedy and able to go forward. From the ashes rises the Phoenix. It was just too bad that there couldn’t be two of them.
“Ah-ha!” I looked down at my map and then to the clearly marked row of gravestones to my right. I stepped onto the grass and walked five stones down and two across before I found him. He was sitting like the others, peacefully settled under an old California oak. It was good to see him again.
I knelt down and touched the granite stone, tracing his engraved name and the dates of his birth and death. I knew that date very well. It had been permanently etched in my mind.
“Hi Christian.”
Saying his name cracked the fragile façade I’d counted on to help me find his resting place. Here, in the cemetery, many tears were shed. If someone saw me crying, they’d understand. I let my tears flow.
We talked for 45 minutes about school, how I’d won the Gallow, and was looking forward to the county competition. I didn’t mention Jesse, but thought of him as I reached my hand back into my pocket and pulled out the clear purple stone.
“I brought this for you.” I placed the stone in the middle of the C in his name. The sun blasted off the colored glass like a beacon.
“It’s called a reminder stone.” I picked it up and let it roll around in my hand, its cool, smooth exterior bringing back memories of when I’d received it. The stone was the first gift Jesse had ever given me.
“See, you need this to remind you of your goals… the things that are important to you. At least, that’s what I was told when I was given this.” I put the stone back down. A cloud had moved in front of the sun, and the purple glass went black against the headstone.
“For you, though, I’d like to think of it as a way to remember the good things we had and move on.”
He didn’t reply. But when the sun reappeared along with the beacon, I knew that Christian had heard me. I stood up and looked down at him and the stone.
Yes, move on but never forget, Beck.
“Take good care of the reminder stone. I want to see it when I come back again.” I pushed the stone into the earth below his headstone, watching as my thumb disappeared in the rich soil. I smeared the dirt on my pants, stood up, and walked away.
Jesse’s car sat up at the top of the private road, a reminder of my own that what you see isn’t always what you get. Where I’d once thought that having the most beautiful boyfriend would make me happy, I’d instead found sadness, heartbreak, and addiction.
And when I’d met a scruffy misfit who liked to tease and taunt me, I never thought he’d be the one to introduce me to a beautiful, new life.
Each day was hard, but I embraced the memories of what had brought me to this point in my life. Getting to know myself again, with Jesse’s unconditional love and support, was the best thing ever. Better than fancy candy or hanging with the right crowd. Even better than picking up my paintbrushes and letting color back into my life.
In fact, it was downright swell.
The End
Swell Page 21