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I nodded. “Yeah. I never really got the chance, so …”
“Come on. I’ll take you to him.”
She held tight to my arm as we walked down thepathI’d found her on. We stopped at a black marble headstone, inlaid with hispictureand inscribed with his full name, birth date, and the date of his death.
My birthday.
The day I had met Officer Sam Lewis and was stuffed into the back of his patrol car.
It was weird to see that date written out, permanently etched into a slab of stone. It was weird to know his casket had been lowered feet below where I stood. It was like I knew he had died—fuck, I’d been there, for crying out loud—but I hadn’t fully accepted it until I saw the place where he was buried. And now, it was suddenly real, and I knew with a sobering certainty that this hadn’t all been some screwed up nightmare.
Billy’s mom must’ve felt my knees threaten to give out because she gripped my arm tighter and said, “Here, sit down.”
We turned to take a seat on a nearby bench, just diagonal from the shiny black gravestone. I couldn’t take my eyesoff ofit, even when I was desperate to not look. I just couldn’t turn away.
“I’ve had all these years to get used to him being gone, and I still sometimes expect him to just walk through the door, like he’s been playing some horrible joke on me all this time,” Billy’s mom said quietly, as if she could read my mind.
“It’s just surreal,” I replied, not knowing what else to say.
“It is.”
Moments passed with me staring at my childhood best friend’s name carved into a slab of marble and his mother sitting beside me. I wanted to say something to break the silence while not knowing what there even was to say, and I was grateful when she finally spoke.
“I wanted to comeseeyou,” she admitted. “I thought about it so many times, but I didn’t know if you’d want to see me or … I don’t know. I guess I was just scared.”
She didn’t clarify what she hadbeen scared of, and she didn’t need to. There were a thousand things that would’ve been valid.
“But I’m glad you’re here,” she continued. “I’m glad we had this.”
Her hand patted my arm, and this moment felt like a true goodbye. I knew that the second I left this place, I would likely never see her again, and I was acutely aware of the racing of my heart. That desperate, frantic feeling of needing to hold on, to do something to keep her from leaving again even if it was on a happier note.
But I said nothing as we stood and hugged again.
“You’ve been taking care of yourself, I hope,” she said, holding me tighter than before.
“I have.”
“Good. That’s good. I’m happy to hear it.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I have my good days and bad,” she admitted, almost apologetically. “Mostly good lately.”
I nodded. “I get it.”
We walked each other to the gate and were about to part ways as she wished me a safe trip to wherever I was living and a good life and to not be a stranger if I ever happened to be in the area again. Then, I turned, ready to head back across the street, where I knew my girlfriend and her son would be waiting, when I was struck hard with another reason to make her stay.
“Wait.” I turned on my heel and stopped her from walking to the parking lot. “Can I ask you a question?”
Billy’s mom was startled as she nodded. “Of course. What is it?”
“What do you know about David Stratton?”
Her lips parted at the sound of his name, and her eyes widened with obvious recognition. She swallowed and raised her chin before dropping it in a slight nod. Eagerness ate away at me, knowing with certainty that she had more info than I’d already gotten from the library, and I was two seconds away from demanding she spillevery lastbean she had.
But instead, she pulled her phone out of her bag and asked, “Where are you living now?”
“Uh …” I hesitated, unsure of if I should utter the name out loud,in the event thatanybody might be listening. But I realized we were alone, apart from the dead, and they couldn’t talk. “River Canyon.”
