Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Just barely.
Chapter Four
Sydney
With the back of my head resting against the cool marble of the grave marker, I stare at the trees in the distance. By now, they’ve lost all of their leaves and the branches look strangely barren. The vast stretch of sky is a bright azure color as puffy, cotton candy looking clouds pass overhead. A warm October breeze wafts against my skin as birds chirp and bees drone nearby, buzzing from one flower to another. They must have figured out that there’s always an endless supply of fresh bouquets here.
As much as I hate coming to the cemetery, I do it twice a month like clockwork. Just like I have been for the past four years. I can’t imagine what it would be like to stop. It would probably feel like a limb that had been freshly amputated. The phantom pain would serve as a perpetual reminder that something integral was missing from my life.
It’s not like I can’t talk to my brother anywhere, but it always feels like he’s with me when I’m sitting against his headstone. Almost like there’s a direct line of communication between us. Even though the idea of him being buried six feet beneath the ground fills me with sadness, I think that’s the reason I end up here. It’s the last place I saw him before he was laid to rest.
Is he resting now?
Sometimes I wonder about that.
It’s a depressing thought.
Peter was always so full of life and restless energy. He could make me smile against my will. And I loved him for it. Mom always joked that there was an invisible motor tied to his butt. He never stopped moving. My brother was four years older than me and graduated high school the year before I started as a freshman. Even though a handful of years separated us, we were close. Out of my four brothers, we had the most in common.
It was his love for soccer that prompted me to pick up a ball and kick it around in the backyard. Even as a small child, I wanted to be exactly like him and attempted to emulate everything he did. Soccer is what we bonded over, and, in the end, it’s what got me through the pain of his loss.
People say that time heals all wounds. I think it’s a lie we tell ourselves to make it through the grief. The realization that it never gets easier would be too much to bear.
“Remember last time, when I told you I thought Lucus had a girlfriend?” I pause as if waiting for him to pipe up with a response. Instead, the cemetery remains eerily silent. “Turns out that my suspicions were right on the money. Mom swung by the Stop and Shop the other day to pick up some groceries and there they were, in the checkout area, heads bent together, whispering to one another.” A chuckle slides from my lips. “You know Mom, she took it upon herself to make introductions. Apparently, the girl’s name is Holly, and she lives with her parents. She just started working at the grocery store. Trust me when I say Mom got all the deets. Now that the cat is out of the bag, Lucus is talking about getting his own apartment so they can move in together. Mom is trying to hold him off until the summer, but he has a one-track mind. It’s kind of cute. Kids,” I murmur, picking at a blade of grass before folding it like an accordion. “They grow up so dang fast.”
I share everything going on with the family and then in my own life. There’s a natural ebb and flow to my voice. Sometimes I’ll lapse into silence before picking up the thread of my previous conversation.
I tell him about soccer, knowing he would take pride in my accomplishments. Peter died before he could graduate from college. It’s disconcerting to realize that I’m now the same age as him when he passed away.
Instead of dwelling on that uncomfortable thought, I fill him in on my classes. He’s the only one I’ve told about my growing fears that accounting isn’t the right career for me. Every day that passes, more doubts mushroom up until it feels like I’m being suffocated by them. Most of the time, I’m able to shove the uncertainties aside and ignore them.
I’ve always had a good head for math. It comes easy to me. And accounting is the same way. Even though I excel in my classes, I don’t particularly find pleasure in them. By the time I realized this, it seemed too late to backtrack and major in something else. If I want to graduate on time, then I need to stay the course. At this point, I’m hoping that I’m wrong and once I start working, everything will fall into place. The prospect of ending up in a career that I hate for the rest of my life is a scary one.