47. Gravestone

I’ve been wanting to do this for some time. Wanting and needing. I just haven’t known how or where or when.

This isn’t something for a movie or a television series. Maybe that’s where I’m getting the idea, but that’s not why I’m doing it. I’m doing it because—because I have to.

Because she deserves it.

Because despite how much I want to forget and move on, despite the insanity of it all that gets a little less insane as time goes on, I need to do this. For Jocelyn.

Mom let me borrow the car because I told her I’m just going down the road to a friend’s house. She’s letting me drive a little more with each passing week, for practice. Sometimes she’s with me and sometimes not. She knows how remote these roads are and that nobody’s around to give me a ticket.

She doesn’t know exactly how far I’m driving, but she doesn’t need to know.

It takes me longer than I expected to find it. The place Jocelyn took me, where she showed me the church and the cemetery that used to be.

The tall grass and weeds aren’t as high as I remember, and the church seems more desolate than I remember. The ground is hard and it takes me a while to find them, but I eventually see the pair of gravestones.

I place a rock between them.

I’m not exactly sure what else to do.

Is she watching me from above or around like in The Sixth Sense?

It’s a nice thought, thinking she might be seeing me, but that’s not why I’m doing this. I’m doing it out of respect. And love. And need.

The rock is one I found down by the creek, thin and about the length of a football. I carved some crude markings on it with a small pickaxe I bought in town. They’re undecipherable except by me.

And by Jocelyn.

At the top is a large J. Then at the center, resembling the cuttings of a caveman, it says December 31. At the bottom, a round thing that’s supposed to resemble a heart.

I look at the flat rock between the two short tombstones. I breathe in and feel the cold emptiness of winter. Then I look up to the sky. “You once called me your guardian angel. Remember that?”

I’m talking out loud, unafraid of being overheard. For some reason, I think this is a special place uninfected by Solitary.

Then again, the church did burn to the ground. What do I know?

“You called me an answer to prayer. But I couldn’t guard you, Joss. I couldn’t save you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being there.”

I look at the sky. I don’t have tears, not anymore. There’s just this big gaping hole inside, like the remnants of a dissolving asteroid plummeting to the ground and disintegrating. All I’m left with is a crater full of ashes and rock.

“You told me that you came here and asked God to send you a sign. As a reminder of the brightness. So I’m going to do the same thing. I’m going to ask. Maybe this is a magical place where God doesn’t exist but wishes can come true. I don’t know. I don’t know anything except that you’re gone and I failed you. I miss you.”

Once again I glance at the rock I made, this ugly scratched excuse for a gravestone.

“If it’s true—if what you believed is true—then you’re okay. And that also means you can look out for me. So I’m asking you—I’m asking God—I’m asking whoever can hear me: Help me. Send something to help me out. Because I’m lost in this darkness and I’m not sure where I’m going to go or what I’m going to do.”

The wind is slight and cold. I would love to say that I suddenly have a premonition, that I hear a whisper, that I see something. But there’s nothing.

It’s just a boy standing over the makeshift grave of the girl he loved, praying a prayer he doesn’t really believe.

Faith isn’t an easy thing. Whoever tells you it is, is just wrong.

I bend down and touch the rock one more time.

I know I’ll never come back to this place.

When I’m back in my mom’s car, I see it.

I wonder if it’s the same wolf I’ve seen before.

No, this one is darker and not as tall. It’s standing near the grave site. It doesn’t sniff, doesn’t seem to be looking for anything. It walks as if it’s

That’s stupid.

I shut my voice up before it goes further.

No wolf is patrolling these hidden graves.

It’s just that this place is so remote that wolves and other animals seem to be everywhere.

Good thing wolfie didn’t decide to bite like the birdie did.

It’s getting dark, and the outline of the wolf makes me shiver for a second. I start up the car and drive away.