AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I would.”
We kneel side-by-side looking at my dad’s grave, and then Emilia looks to the right.
“Oh,” she murmurs, and she reaches for her own father’s marker. It, too, is plain. The words are etched right into the top of the gravestone. Both of the stones are so plain that it’s unbearable: just a name and two dates.
That’s it.
After all of the things our fathers accomplished in the world, their tombs are reduced to just what they were called, when they were born, and when they finally died.
“It’s fitting, you know, that they would be buried together,” she whispers.
“Why?” I bristle.
Her dad was at traitor.
Mine...
Well, my dad was just mine.
And I miss him.
I don’t want to be a pussy about it, but growing up without a dad wasn’t easy. Not having someone to come watch me play or to tell me I was doing fine was horrible. My mother completely lost herself after he died. Even now, I never see her. She drinks and she talks to her friends, and that’s what my mother does. She managed to get some insurance money, somehow, so she lives off that, from what I can tell.
I don’t know, because my mom doesn’t give me shit.
And she certainly doesn’t talk to me.
I would never admit it, but the only reason I’m at Crescent Academy is because some coach saw me and thought I’d make a good addition to the team. A scholarship was offered, and I accepted without ever looking back. I even forged my mom’s signature just to make sure I would be able to go.
She’s way too much of a drunk to have that kind of responsibility resting on her shoulders.
Emilia touches my shoulder lightly, and I turn to look at her.
“Are you okay?” Her brow furrows. “You seemed a little lost in thought there for a minute.”
“I’m fine,” I brush her hand away.
“Well, sorry,” she says sarcastically, roughly, and she takes her hand back. She looks at her dad’s tombstone, and I wonder what thoughts are running through that pretty little head of hers.
She sighs.
“Look, Gavin, I’m here because you wanted me here. I can go.”
She starts to rise up, but I reach for her wrist.
Shit.
I shouldn’t be touching her.
She made it very clear that I shouldn’t be touching her. Even now, when she turns, she shoots daggers at me.
“No,” she removes my hand. “Don’t touch me again.”
“I won’t.”
“Fine.”
“Please,” I say.
