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brITT

CONFESSION

T wo days after Jack’s frenzied call home, Annie and I climb out of the Mustang and wander along the grass and tree lined gardens.

He’s due home late tonight. Their flight leaves at five p.m. their time, and they’ll arrive here at eleven our time. I’m counting down the minutes; I’ve missed him that much.

I won’t be the needy chick, the one who calls and begs him to come back, but damn, I miss him.

Seeing the photos the other night – not of him and the fan, but of him and Steph – sliced me open more than I ever expected it would.

They were just babies. They grew up together and have a whole lot of shared history. I told Jack I would never be that girl. I promised Steph that I wouldn’t compete – because I’d never win – but seeing the articles hurt more than I expected they would.

Sighing, I walk along the pebbled walkway and kick rocks as I fuss with my Bambie bracelet. Picture after picture of the young couple run through my mind like a movie reel.

I’ve caught feelings for him, and I’m turning into the chick I said I wouldn’t be.

Annie leads me to Steph easily, like she’s done this a million times before… I think she probably has. And as soon as we’re close enough I can read Steph’s name, I sit down and try to ignore the knife slicing in my gut .

“Good morning, Steph.”

Lazily flopping down on the grass beside me, Annie lays her head in my lap and waits for an ear scratch.

It doesn’t escape me that I’m petting Stephanie’s dog. That I’m in love with Steph’s dog.

“So… How are you this week?”

I’m so dumb. I ask questions every time, yet the silence greets me.

“I wish we could communicate with people who’ve passed. It would be cool to have some questions answered.”

I pick blades of grass and twist them between my fingers like I do every week while I think. “Questions like, how did you make Jack fall in love with you? What exactly earned his undying love?” I clear my throat nervously. “Because I could do with some tips.”

My stomach flip-flops today like it did the first time I ever visited here. I tend to come weekly, and we’ve formed somewhat of a one-sided friendship.

I tell her about myself, about how Jack’s doing, about all of her nieces and nephews. I told her about Evie fighting in school, and how Bean, who’s normally so loud and charismatic, seems so down lately.

I’ve kept a close eye on things. I’ve wondered a million times if she’s being picked on, but I can’t find any evidence.

My discussions with Steph are usually just catching her up on things and wishing she could talk back. Sometimes my words go deeper. Sometimes I tell her how I feel about Jack.

I even confess that maybe I like him more than I should. More than he likes me.

I’m a twenty-four-year-old woman, I’m not a teenager, yet my newfound insecurities are reminiscent of typical teenage years.

Not my teenage years. I was as cocky as my brothers. But a regular high-schooler’s years.

Today, my visit runs deeper. Today, I need to brace myself, because she’s my confessional, and I’m the sinner.

“So, I told you ages ago that Jack and I are just… well, we’re just seeing each other. You’re his forever. You were his destiny.” I groan. “Jesus, that sounds cheesy. You know what I mean though, right? You were his childhood sweetheart.” I study her headstone as my heart throbs painfully. “I think I fell in love with your boyfriend, Steph. And it hurts.”

Annie’s ears twitch against the soft breeze. “It hurts that I’m petting your dog. I’m dating your boyfriend. I’m falling in love with your family. I’m simply filling the gap you left behind, and it never used to hurt because I’m not that girl. I’m just me, and we were just having fun. But now it hurts.

“He’s been away this week, and pictures of him and another girl are all over internet. I’m not jealous of her. I trust him. But… I’m jealous of you. The whole world knows you as his. Jack and Steph. Romeo and Juliet. His Juliet tragically died, and now I’m just the replacement.

“I want him to think of me at least half as much as he thinks of you. I want him to love me at least half as much as he loves you. And, I dunno… he probably does think of me, he might even love me someday, but it won’t be the way he loves you.

“I promised you I wouldn’t do this. I promised myself!” Disappointment washes through my chest. “But somewhere along the way, my heart got involved. At first it was a nice feeling. A soft, gooey, nauseated feeling, but it was nice. It felt good. But now it just hurts, like I swallowed razor blades. I can’t compete with you, Steph.”

The defeat that knowledge brings sits deep in my bones.

“I don’t expect him to love me back. Not really. How could he? You were taken from him. You didn’t break up. You were stolen , and I know that if you were still here, you’d still be together.”

I shake my head, horrified as a fat tear escapes my eyes. I don’t even know who I’m crying for; her, or me? Or maybe Jack.

“I can’t be you, Steph. I wish I could bring you back, because believe it or not, jealousy aside, I kinda like you. Jack’s family talk about you as if you’re still here. You’re still living and breathing in their hearts, especially the kids’, and I know you were good for him.

“I can’t be you, and sometimes, especially now,” I swipe a second ridiculous tear away, “sometimes I wish I never met him. He’s a good man. He’s the best. My life is definitely better for knowing him, but damn, it hurts. If I never met him, maybe I’d be dating someone like Brad. He’s a fucking bore, probably terrible in bed, but he seems to like me. At least I wouldn’t be competing for attention, ya know?”

I smile and attempt to pull myself together as Annie rolls over to sun her other side. I’m not a crier. I’ve never been a crier.

I’m embarrassed with myself.

“So, I guess I’m stuck for now. Because I know he likes me, too. Love? No. But, like? Definitely. For as long as he likes me, I’m not going anywhere. Half of him is better than none, you know?” A soft laugh escapes me. “I know you know. You had him. Any smart girl would take whatever portion of himself he chooses to give. So, I guess I’ll just continue to love him silently. The little engine that could, huh? I can try and give him something back, something your absence took from him, and maybe I could hope, if not for his love, then maybe for your approval? I guess that would be enough for me.”

I swipe a finger across my eye.

“Maybe you could give me a sign? I don’t know what, and I don’t know how that actually works. The only person I know who died, my grandma, well I asked her to make the lights flicker one time. I wanted to know if dead people took requests. She didn’t…” I roll my eyes. “But maybe you love Jack more than my grandma loved me, or maybe it doesn’t work like that at all. But I’ll keep watch, anyway. If you could try and find a way to let me know you approve, I’d be forever grateful.”

It’s the most I can hope for.

I feel awkward, like a guest that overstayed her welcome. Pushing Annie’s head off my lap, I stand, but squat down in front of her headstone.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry you’re not here anymore. I think I even love Jack enough that, if you were here, I’d step aside and not be bitter about it. You’re the best fit for him.”

I feel bad for lying, but saying the words out loud help my own conscience. If I was telling the truth, I’d admit to wishing she was here so I could compete with a real, living, breathing person. I’m not one to shy away from competition – I thrive on it – but I can’t compete with this.

I can’t compete with romanticized memories.

Steph will forever be immortalized and remembered as young and beautiful and perfect.

“I’m sorry, but don’t worry, my heart won’t get in between you and me. I’ll be back next week.”

Standing quickly, I wander away from her resting place and follow behind Annie’s sure steps. I can’t linger with her this week. I’m both eager and dreading Jack’s homecoming.

I want to see him. I want to feel him, smell him, be the recipient of his beautiful half-dimpled smiles.

But I’m tired of competing.

I follow Annie through the lush gardens and soak in the warm sun. It’s still early, and I have an hour before I have to be at school. Enough time to pick up her poop, take her home and feed her, then go to work.

We walk for a couple minutes, and I note the obvious differences between this side of the cemetery, and the side Steph is buried.

Hers is all lush green grass, tall headstones, photos, gifts, manicured gardens.

This side seems darker, lonelier… Poorer .

Annie approaches a headstone so obviously different to all the others surrounding it, then stops and lies down with a grunt.

Stopping and reading the engraved name, a new bout of tears push to the surface. Jack and Kit’s dad. His age – forty-seven years old – hits me square in the stomach.

So young.

Both Jack and I are already halfway there.

Faking a smile, I kneel down and scratch Annie’s back. “You came to see your grandpa?”

She sighs deeply, and blows the flowers in front of his headstone with the force of her breath.

I don’t know this man, but I know his kids. I know they’re amazing. So I give Annie five minutes to talk with him, then when her eyes close for too long and she begins to snore, I laugh and tap her bottom. “Let’s go, girl. It’s time for school.” I turn back to the headstone. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Reilly. I’ll stop by here to say hey next week.”

Jack: We’re leaving in about an hour. I can’t wait to see you, Bambie.

I smile at my text. Bleeding heart or not, he makes me happy.

Me: Safe flight. I’ll see you in a few hours.

Jack: Sleep in my bed tonight? I need to see you today, not tomorrow.

Me: Kit and Bobby won’t mind that I’m in their house?

Jack: Definitely not. Ask one of the girls to let you in. We have a car organized to bring us home from the airport, so I’ll just climb into bed with you as soon as we get there.

Me: You sure you don’t want me to pick you up?

Jack: It’s already organized. But thanks. Just be in my bed, I’ll do the rest.

Heat pools in my belly.

Me: …what will you do?

Jack: I’ll surprise you. But maybe don’t wear panties.

Me: So I won’t even pretend to play hard to get?

Jack: You do whatever turns you on. Either way, I’m gonna fuck you tonight. My dick literally aches thinking about you.

The throb of excitement and anticipation builds between my legs.

Me: I miss you like a needy chick.

Jack: Not for much longer. I promise.