Karen walked slowly through the graveyard. The day was overcast but warm. To the east she could hear thunder rumbling, but it seemed to be moving away. She was wearing faded jeans and a Tori Amos T-shirt, her hair pulled back. In her hands she carried two items. She kept her eyes trained on the ground in front of her.
Her parents couldn’t understand why she’d wanted to make a trip to some little town in Wisconsin during her summer break, but Karen had told them she was visiting a friend from Furman. Which wasn’t exactly a lie.
She knew she’d reached her destination even before she looked up at the grave marker. It was relatively small and simple, the name engraved deep in the stone.
ROBERT ANTHONY JERSEY
Blinking back tears, Karen knelt down, cradling the two items in her lap.
“Hi, Bobby. I had to visit,” she said. She’d thought she would feel silly talking aloud to a grave, but it didn’t feel silly after all. “Coming here and seeing your grave is the only way I can put the whole mess behind me and move on.”
Karen paused, glancing over at the empty plot of land next to Bobby’s grave, wondering if one day Penelope would be buried there. She didn’t know what had become of the librarian, if the woman had gone through with her threatened suicide or not.
Penelope had never returned to campus; Robin had told Karen that she’d sent in a written letter of resignation containing no real explanation. Karen had driven by the witch’s house, only to find it empty. Her current whereabouts were a mystery to Karen, but she wasn’t that curious. If the woman wanted to disappear, Karen was more than happy to let her.
“I considered transferring to another school,” she continued after a moment. “I mean, after everything that went down and all, but in the end that felt a little too much like running away. I think I’m going to stick it out at Furman. I won’t be working in the library next semester, though. I’ve got a work-study gig lined up with the school’s literary magazine. They even published my poem, ‘Nothing More than People,’ in last semester’s issue.
“I don’t see much of Brittany these days, and she won’t be returning to Furman. She’s transferring to University of Pennsylvania to be closer to Derek. I hear the two of them are engaged.
“The coven pestered me to join, but I said I was taking a break from witchcraft. Although, to be honest, I’ve kept in touch with them, so I guess I haven’t completely ruled it out. Turns out Willow isn’t such a brat after all. We’ve sort of become friends. We’ve been emailing and texting all summer, and I’ve promised to take her to the Coffee Underground Open Mic Poetry Night in the fall.
“I guess the point of all of this, if there is a point, is that I wanted to tell you that I’m okay. Life isn’t all roses and kittens, but it’s good. It’s a life. Maybe not a normal life, if such a thing exists, but I’m happy. At least on my way to happy.”
Karen took the piece of notebook paper from her lap and unfolded it. “I wrote a poem for you. I read it at Open Mic Night just before I left for summer vacation. Went over pretty well with the crowd. Even Purple Scarf liked it, I think. Probably because it doesn’t rhyme.”
She cleared her throat and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, now starting to feel a little foolish. Then she read:
You entered my life unexpectedly,
And exited the same way.
But the impression you left was deep and lasting.
Not like in the romance novels,
But real love never is.
This is much more profound and true.
You were the first person
To ever make me feel noticed,
Make me feel special,
Make me feel like I wasn’t alone in this world.
Those things linger
Even though you are gone.
What you taught me about myself,
About life,
And about love,
I will carry with me always
Because I carry you in my heart
After she was finished, she gently folded the paper again and placed it on the ground just before the tombstone. “I call it ‘Bobby’s Song.’ Stupid title, I know.”
She lifted the other item she’d brought with her, the bracelet Penelope had made, the talisman that had once allowed Karen to see Bobby. She laid it atop the folded poem. If a strong wind rose, it wouldn’t do much to hold the paper down, but that was okay. This was just a gesture.
Raindrops began splattering onto the tombstone, the ground, onto Karen. Perhaps the storm wasn’t moving away after all.
“I have to go now.” Karen placed her fingertips against her lips, then brushed her fingers along the name on the marker. “I carry you in my heart.”
Karen stood, turned, and left the graveyard.
THE END