“Anyone else besides Johnny and Finn?”
“I’ll go,” Gage answered.
“M-me t-t-too.” This came from the guy with dark blond hair who hadn’t yet spoken.
“Same.”
“All five of us,” the final boy answered.
Five guys I’d never met before today, and yet they each met my curious gaze with a nod or chin lift of encouragement, offering a solidarity I could barely grasp. “You don’t know me.”
“Been there,” one of the others said. The one who mentioned all five of the guys coming to the cemetery today. His dark, wavy hair was long, falling over one vivid blue eye. “Parent or grandparent?”
“My grandma.”
“Raised you?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “I’m Ethan. This is Sebastian.” He thumbed at the guy who stuttered.
“S-S-Seb,” Sebastian corrected, stuttering as he answered.
“Caleb’s the quiet one,” Gage informed me, introducing the last person I had yet to meet.
Caleb shifted in his seat. “Lost my grandma four months ago. She was all I fucking had.”
No one corrected his language, not even Harmony.
“My Noma was the same.” Fuck. That hurt like hell to say.
“Then it’s settled,” Dale announced. “We’re all going.”
The girl beside me finally looked up, piercing me with eyes so pale they almost seemed like contact lenses. “If you need me to hold your hand, just tell me. I didn’t have anyone around to hold mine.”
My chest felt tight with her confession. I barely voiced, “Okay.”
Harmony sniffled as I turned my attention her way. “Sorry. Don’t mind me. I hate the reminders you’ve all been through so much.” She dashed her fingers under her eyes to wipe at the tears that had yet to fall and stood. “I’m going to bake chocolate chip cookies today. We need a little warmth and sweetness in the air.”
As she said the words, rays of soft light appeared, spearing through the windows to bathe the table and everyone around it. Those bright rays did their best to chase away the cold fist around my heart and even though I knew this day would be the worst I’d ever experienced, as awful as my tenth birthday, I also knew the people in this room had seen similar horrors and experienced pain as deep and cutting as my own. There was something to be said about shared suffering.
That was even more clear as the sun’s rays shone on my sweatshirt. The one I slept in. The one I last hugged Noma in. I couldn’t help but think of the night in the motel room. The candle... Noma's soft words after that bath in the motel room, encouraging me to honor my dad's life and his love for me.
When Noma passed, I never said goodbye. I did the opposite. I wailed and begged her to stay. Now it was time. And, respectfully, there was no way I was going to do it dirty.
Fighting thick emotions, my jaw clicked. “May I use the restroom for a shower?” ?1
In the bathroom, door locked, I shed the clothing that had last touched Noma. Holding the material to my nose, I inhaled, wishing this moment wasn’t so pathetic. But it was. Never had I known something so trivial could become so epic.
Sweatshirt folded neatly on the counter, because I wasn’t sure I would ever wash it, I faced the shower. Trembling, I reached out to turn on the water. I could only face one goodbye today.
Please be with me.
I held my breath as the water began to flow…
Nothing. The water was normal. No dancing stars.
My body seized. Noooo.
