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When Benito turns down the street we live on, the single strip of immaculate houses overlooking our uninhabited little lake, I clear my throat and ask him to take me to the cemetery. He looks at me in the rearview, raising an eyebrow. “The cemetery?” I nod, and he shrugs, pulling into a vacant driveway, shifting gears, and heading in the opposite direction.
He stops just outside the wrought-iron fence, and I climb out on shaky legs, struggling to catch my breath as they leave my body in quick, quiet huffs. I hold up my hand, letting him know I don’t need a guard inside and make my way to the corner of the grounds where my father’s headstone sits.
I haven’t been back in weeks, haven’t seen the point since my necklace was elsewhere and my shame centered more on the monster taking over my life instead of the one who’d already left it.
Still, standing in front of the slab of granite, as the wind whispers through the strands of my hair and kisses my skin, I can’t stop the usual wave of guilt from crashing over me, threatening to drag me beneath its surface and hold me there until I can’t think or breathe or save myself.
But instead of allowing panic to seize the chambers of my heart with its claws at the incoming storm of sadness, instead of giving in and seeing it as an immediate loss, I drop to the ground, criss-cross my legs, and let the storm roll through me. Bracing my hands on my knees, I inhale deeply and close my eyes, absorbing the serenity, that stillness in the air that only a graveyard possesses.
As if the very earth itself is aware of what lies beneath its surface, unwilling to disturb the peace.
Something crackles, leaves crunching under pressure, drawing me from the attempt at an exercise—not that I think Hana’s techniques will work on me, anyway, but I’m willing to try anything at least once.
My body stiffens at the presence closing in behind me, a different kind of storm I find myself unprepared for. An insult poised on my tongue, an admonishment for ignoring me for days after making me start to care about him, I turn my head and start to speak.
But it’s not Kieran I see.
“Mom?”
The thin dye-job blonde in front of me just barely resembles the woman who ditched her children two years ago—her eyes are puffy, cheekbones sullen, as if they’ve not been injected with collagen recently. She has on a soft lavender pantsuit, but the blazer hangs off her chest, showcasing the weight she’s lost and the gaunt appearance that makes her look like she belongs here.
“Juliet.” Her head tilts, gaze raking over my body. “You look… different. When’s the last time you had a haircut?”
She brushes a bony hand over her hair, and I can’t help but notice the chipped nail polish on her fingertips, the slight tremble in her chin, as if she might be nervous right now. As if she has reason to be anything but sorry.
We stare at each other for several moments in complete silence, the air no longer peaceful; an angry funnel cloud swirls in its place, trying to decide which of us to suck in and spit out.
My heart clenches in my chest, confusion and resentment battling inside me.Why is she here, all of a sudden, and why can’t I stop my stupid brain from hoping she’s back for good?
Nearly two years of radio silence, and here she is. Exactly what I’ve been waiting for all this time, yet something tells me there’s nothing good about her return.
I’d heard she was back in town through some of the gossip sites, but so far she’d been staying away. I’m not quite sure what to do with her presence.
The quiet stretches on too long, and my need for answers propels me forward. I take the bait. “What are you doing here?”
Scoffing, she adjusts the underside of her shoulder-length hair, sweeping it back. “I could ask you the same thing, dear. Shouldn’t you be in school or… working? Keeping out of trouble?”
“What kind of trouble are you expecting me to get into at a cemetery?”
“Oh, come on, darling.” My body coils against the nickname, hating the condescending venom dripping from the term. “You can’t think I haven’t heard the rumors about you and the boys you like to bring here.”
“Well, Mother, considering you’ve been MIA for almost two whole years now, I do find it a little suspect that you’d claim to know anything about me at all.”
“Word travels when you’re a Harrison.”
“You say that like that name holds any kind of meaning anymore.” I roll my eyes, brushing dirt from my palms as I climb to my feet. Beyond the fence surrounding us, I see Benito exit his car, watching me with an intensity that makes me feel more brave than ever before. “What are youreallydoing here?”
“Is it a crime to want to come visit my husband’s grave?”
My heart twists behind my ribs, a stabbing sensation throbbing through the meat of it, sending a sharp wave of agony down my spine and across my skin. Of course, she’s not here for me.
I’vebeen here all along. She just doesn’t give a shit.
Shrugging, she reaches out and fingers a lock of my hair, twisting it around her finger. She tilts her head, watching the movement, before I swat her away. Her icy eyes harden as they meet mine, her chin dipping as she makes it a point to look down at me. “I can’t even imagine what you’re doing hanging around that Ivers boy, but Jesus Christ, Juliet. I thought I’d taught you better than to let men like that defile you.”
I yank back from her grasp, glaring. “The only person I ever letdefileme is you. How fucking dare you come here and try to judge me for my choices when you disappeared out of my life for years without a single explanation?”
“Well, good Lord, dear.” Her hot pink lips quiver, signaling an onslaught of crocodile tears, and I roll my eyes, rage coursing through every fiber of my being. “It’s not like you ever needed me around before..”
