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I wander through the party, the heels of my black boots clicking against the tiled floors as I search for Noah.
I’m not surprised to find him out back. Reclined in a wide-legged stance on one of the patio chairs. Beckett is next to him, bringing a joint to his lips and puffing out a cloud of smoke.
The alcohol has made my head lighter, happier, so I find myself skipping over to them. Noah smiles as I approach, reaching out for a hit of Beckett’s joint.
“Nah,” Beckett pulls it away, instead digging in his pocket. He pulls out a small sealed baggie with a few pieces of candy inside. “Edibles,” he laughs, pulling one out and handing it over to me. “Try it.”
It looks like a tiny square sour gummy. “How high will this get me?”
“Dude,” Beckett smiles, “These things will fuck you up. But you’re about to be a married woman, right? You need to party before this one chains you down.” He chuckles, reaching over to nudge Noah.
I pop the candy in my mouth, it’s flavored like weed covered in sugar. “Ugh,” I take a chug of my champagne. “Beck, that doesn’t even taste good!”
He shrugs a shoulder. “Why does the taste matter? It’s supposed to get you high.”
The champagne washes down the flavor. Nothing should taste like pot, it’s not something you want to eat. Smoke, sure, but eat?
Noah only laughs, pulling me down to sit in his lap and wrapping his arms around me. Soft kisses meet the curve between my neck and shoulder, gently nipping. “You know something, Mik?” Noah whispers low, only loud enough for us to hear. “I really fucking love you.”
I don’t know how to process the information my mother just handed me.
The knowledge that Auden was reaching out to me, searching for me, and I wasn’t there for her grates on my nerves. Burns my soul to fucking ash. I should have been there for her, I should have known.
But I wasn’t.
I don’t even know what I was doing, what was more important than my sister.
It takes me a while to calm down in the coffee shop before I leave. Mom wants me to stay or to let her drive me, but I need to go. I need to be alone.
I drive the Beetle around for a while until I find myself pulling into the familiar cemetery. Her plot is in the middle of a sea of gravestones. Even in the late afternoon with the October sun shining down on me, the graveyard feels ominous.
There’s only endings here. Things that never happened. Dreams that will never come true.
There’s only one other person in sight, kneeling in front of a stone with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.
I walk past him, toward my sister's grave.
In an effort to be different, my parents had her gravestone carved from granite in the shape of a soccer ball. The ornate thing cost $10,000 and came right out of Auden’s college fund, not that she’d ever be able to use it anyway.
It’s funny I think, how much money we waste on the dead.
There’s a quote by Anne Frank that reads, “Dead people receive more flowers than living because regret is stronger than gratitude.”
I think about that every time I come here and scan my eyes over the freshly planted flowers, the decor that’s placed in front of each stone. So much work and effort goes into taking care of something for someone who’s not even here anymore.
Auden’s stone has a cluster of figurines in front of it. An angel, a teddy bear, a soccer ball. The flowers my mom planted in the spring have died, but there’s fresh flowers in a vase. It’s silly how we leave all these things here for her.
When she died her coffin was stuffed. Friends and family came with mementos, pictures, shirts, knickknacks. Anything that held significance was placed in the coffin and buried with her, as if she’d ever be able to use them again.
Regret, I think.
I have more regrets than I can count when it comes to Auden. All the times I kicked her out of my room, told her to leave me alone. Every time I refused to let her borrow my clothes or my makeup. I would whine about having to drive her places, slamming the door and accusing my parents of loving her more.
I would do anything to rewrite those moments. To not yell or scream. To let her wear my damn clothes. Hell, I’d give her my entire makeup collection.
I’d do anything if it meant having my baby sister back.
I don’t even realize I’m crying until the tears drip off my face. I find myself on my knees in front of the granite soccer ball, my tears turning me into a mess.
