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“So what do you think, my wise child, does a man ever really change?” He’d spent the first ten minutes of his Saturday-afternoon date with his daughter telling her about Abraham, and his resultant anger.
Sitting on the ground, leaning up against the side of the stone, he tried to help her understand.
“I don’t know if you remember or not, but when you were little, Daddy always expected things to go his way. And he’d get mad if they didn’t. Which usually made people do what he wanted.”
Yeah, that summed it up pretty well.
Running a hand through his hair, he remembered he had to make an appointment to get it cut. He hated when it grew over his ears. Not that he had an image to care about anymore.
“So what do you think, baby girl?” he asked, his voice quiet and low in the deserted cemetery. “Am I always going to do whatever it takes to make things go my way?”
He uprooted what might be the beginnings of a weed in the beautifully manicured grass between his upraised knees.
The December air was cool but not cold, blowing lightly against his forearms where he’d rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. Bright sunshine beat down on the glorious array of color surrounding him, the vast collection of live and cut blooms that graced the cemetery. Head back against Alicia’s resting place, he stared up at the pure blue sky, wondering if she could see him.
Wishing he could see her.
“I made Valerie mad,” he told her softly. “Three days ago.” Though no replies ever came, he always waited. “I haven’t heard from her since.” He answered the question he supposed she might ask. “I waved to her at school, but I don’t think she looked over at me.”
A newer-model black sedan pulled in on the opposite lane, stopping about halfway down. A young woman emerged with roses, laid them on a grave. And stood there frozen.
Who was she mourning? Her husband? A parent? Alicia would know.
Not a child, Kirk prayed.
“The boys have been to practice, though, and they’re as friendly as always. They’re great guys, Licia,” he told her. Only three years older than Alicia would be had she lived. “Funny and sweet, tough and innocent. And ill. Each in his own way.”
His daughter wasn’t old enough yet to wonder if they were cute, so Kirk didn’t bother telling her they were. Nor had he told her about Abraham’s striking good looks.
“We’ve got our last play-off game on Tuesday,” he said instead. “If we win, we go to the finals.”
He’d already explained the sport to her, the day he’d gotten the job as coach. He figured she’d been bored to tears but had listened politely.
And then he just sat there, as he always did at some point during his sojourns in that strange place where life met death, smelling the roses he had delivered for her every Friday. Facing the fact that he could talk all he wanted and Alicia would never answer. She’d still be lost to him. Gone away without hearing how much he loved her.
And, as always, his thoughts were
drawn back to that last week of her life, keeping vigil outside her room, all alone and too late.
“I gotta go see him, sweetie.” The words were no less ragged for their softness. “Valerie told me to stay away, but I can’t do it. Abraham’s hurting. And I can’t be too late for a child again. I promised.”
He’d promised her. He’d promised his little girl the night before she died that he’d spend the rest of his life taking care of children.
“I have to know who hit him. And why.”
He wondered if Alicia knew.
He wanted to tell her about her brother. But couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. And if Susan had told her—well, the news would still be new when Kirk got around to it. He planned to ask Alicia’s advice every step of the way when he finally got to be a father to his son.
His butt was starting to hurt from the hard ground, so Kirk slowly stood. He never knew what to say at this point. Goodbye was too final. See ya, a lie.
“I’m going to visit Abraham.”
He backed away, unable to turn until he’d passed the two stones directly behind hers. Focusing on the baby-pink roses.
Christmas was coming. Maybe he’d buy a poinsettia next week. Or better yet, bring a miniature tree, decorated with colorful baubles.
He turned, walking swiftly through the grass, not slowing until he reached his car.
