Page 44

44

JACK

A VISITOR

W alking along the paved walkway through tall pear trees, I emerge into the open area where Steph’s marker rests.

It’s just a regular sunny day. Cloudless sky, fresh breeze, everything is as it should be, except today, someone else stands in front of her grave, touching her headstone, tracing her name.

I press my hand down on Annie’s quivering head when her hackles rise. Steph’s visitor isn’t doing anything wrong; Steph can’t hurt anymore, so there’s no reason for Annie to flip.

I watch the man place a bunch of flowers in the vase in front of her. He works to set them right, fussing until he’s happy, and sends the V between my brows digging deeper.

That’s the vase I put there, for the flowers that I bring. Now the bunch in my hand feel redundant, sub-par, my hand-picked peonies lame compared to the bright display of store-bought tulips he brought for her.

I don’t know him. I don’t recognize him at all.

I think – I thought – I’d met just about every person Steph ever knew, but just like I stopped Annie from reacting, I force myself to cool it as well.

She’s just a headstone now, just a plot of earth.

No matter what, no matter who he is, he can’t hurt her.

He looks to be mid-thirties, maybe late. Sort of fit, but not like the fighter physiques I see so often. Just a regular guy; not fat, not scrawny.

His hair sits neat on his head, combed, and with a salt and pepper sprinkle that ages him. He couldn’t possibly be forty, yet his hair hints that he is.

He speaks in soft tones, so soft, I only catch every few words as they float on the soft breeze; home, sorry, Glenn.

Curious, unable to stop myself, I step toward him. “Can I help you?”

He jumps at my words, lifting at least half a foot in the air, then with a hand over his chest and a wedding band circling his finger, his nervous eyes meet mine. Stubble coats his cheeks, his jawline stands out, his cheeks almost sunken like he could do with a few good meals.

His skin is tan, but could do with some more color. It’s with the thought that he’s spent far too long inside that my radar goes on alert.

I take another step forward and watch him nervously wipe his hands on his pants.

His voice crackles with nerves. “Hello. I’m sorry for coming here.”

I take his extended hand with narrowed eyes. “Who are you?”

“Ah…” He clears his throat nervously. “I’m Glenn.”

“Glenn...” I release his moist hand and step back. “Can I help you?”

“You’re Jack…”

“I am.”

I watch on in horrified fascination as tears spill over and dribble along his cheeks. Suspicious, but knowing without a doubt he’s harmless, I take him in a back-thumping hug and hold on when he lets out a heart-breaking sob.

“What’s going on, Glenn?”

“I… uh…” He clears his throat uncomfortably and watches me through wet lashes. “I got back to town just today, and I… I wanted to come see her, to say sorry.”

I look over his shoulder, at Steph, at the flowers. “Sorry?”

“I was the guy who…” He clears his throat again. “It’s my fault you got hurt. It’s my fault Stephanie got hurt.”

My heart skitters in my chest and threatens to explode. A part of me wants to tear him apart. Another part wants to drop to my knees and beg he go back in time and make a different choice.

Spare my sweet Steph.

I wish so much we never met Glenn on the freeway. I wish he drove the other way that day. I wish Steph and I never got out of bed that day.

But on top of that, is the knowledge that I’ve already wasted so much time on bitterness and dreams that can’t come true.

I can’t spend my life thinking about the what-ifs. I can’t waste my life wishing for something that can’t be .

I look into his watery eyes, gray with sprinkles of silver and green. His smile lines are deeply etched, his forehead chiseled away with wrinkles. “Why are you here, Glenn?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs deeply. “I wanted to say sorry, I guess.”

“Sorry? Pretty fuckin’ weak after what you did. You say sorry for dinging someone’s car door with yours. You don’t say sorry for killing them.”

He nods and slowly spins the ring around his finger. “I know. It’s nothing. I know it won’t help… it’s just…” His tortured eyes meet mine. “I just got back to town. I was up at Stenten… I was released this morning.” He grazes yellowing teeth along his bottom lip. “I’ve had a lot of thinking time. And the whole time, every day and every night, I thought about you and your girlfriend.”

“You just got out today?” I frown in thought. “You came straight here?”

He nods. “I live– well,” he corrects shakily. “I lived about an hour from here. A little further north. I wanted to stop here before I go home.”

“You got family waiting for you, Glenn?”

I watch his Adam’s apple bob, then his shaking head. “No, I don’t. Not anymore.”

“Not anymore? She leave because of what you did?”

“No.”

“So?” I demand impatiently. “What happened?”

His clouded eyes meet mine, then they spill over. “Drunk driver.”

“You?”

“No,” he chokes out. “Someone else.”

Nodding, I release a deep sigh. “When?”

“About two months before… before.”

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes snap to mine in shock. “You’re sorry?”

I nod. “I’m sorry for your loss. I know what that’s like.”

Nodding thoughtfully, he goes back to fidgeting with his ring. “Are you… are you doing okay, Jack? Are you–”

“Well.” I shrug. “I guess you and I react to grief in a similar way. I drank a lot afterwards, too. I became a shitty person for a long time.”

“How’d you get better?”

Better?

Images of a dancing Bambie flash through my mind. I picture her long silky hair swaying as she moves, and her big blue eyes watching me, her plump lips tempting me. Then I think of her spitting mad in my yard wearing nothing but my shirt – a shirt she never returned. Then her skateboarding in my driveway, so fucking skilled, I never once thought she’d hurt herself.

She looked so natural, there was no way I could doubt her.

“Someone saved me.” I smile, it’s small, it’s a little pained, but it’s there as I look up into the eyes of the man who killed my sweet Stephanie. I let him see my smile. I let him see the peace in my eyes. “I’m okay. Mostly. I have a lot of stuff I’ve still gotta fix, but I have other things that are a true blessing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I smile bigger this time. “I have my family. I was a horrible brother for a long time, a terrible uncle. I chose alcohol and bitterness over them, but even after everything I put them through, I still have them and they still love me.”

Nodding thoughtfully, he considers my words.

“I was angry with you, Glenn. So fucking angry. But my anger was hurting only me and those that I love. It wasn’t hurting you at all, so at some point, I just let it go.” Like a balloon being released into the night. “I had to let it go… Someone very special helped me do that.”

He nods again, so fucking nervous and fidgety. “I’m glad you have that, Jack. I’m glad to see you looking well.”

I look him up and down. Washed blue jeans. Unremarkable collared gray shirt. No watch or belt. No-brand sneakers. His wedding ring is his only accessory. His most noticeable features are sunken cheeks and sad eyes.

“You gonna be okay? Do you have family to help you? You have a home and a job and stuff?”

He shrugs nervously. “I’ll be okay. I’ve had a while to think out my next move. This was the first step.” He indicates over his shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about this day for a long time.”

“I’m sure she enjoyed your visit.”

His eyes lighten as he studies me. “You really think so?

I think about Steph, about how sweet she was, how she’d never stay mad at someone. She saw the best in everyone, always.

She saw the best in me .

“Sure. She likes visitors.”

“Do you think–” He stops nervously and studies me. “Do you think it would be okay if I dropped in here sometimes to say hello? I won’t come looking for you,” he rushes out. “I won’t bother you at all. I just thought maybe she’d like flowers sometimes. ”

“Yeah.” I nod easily. Far easier than I ever expected I would when in the presence of the man who killed her. “Anytime. She’d like that.” His watery eyes follow my every move, my arm still sitting high against my chest in a sling, my other hand as it rests on Annie’s head. “Ah, I usually come Sundays. So maybe come a different day.”

He nods quickly. “Okay.”

“Her birthday’s coming up soon. She likes purple flowers.”

He nods again.

We speak logistics for another minute – because I don’t particularly want to make seeing him a weekly habit – then with another quick peek and a soft hand sliding over her headstone, he walks away with our gym’s business card in his pocket – just in case.

If he truly needs help, one of my brothers can go to him.

Finally alone with her, I sit in my usual spot and wait for Annie to settle in behind me. “Hey, Stephy.” I study her etchings, her large headstone, her flowers.

My eyes lock onto the strange object sparkling in the sun, partially hidden in the long grass and flowers.

Picking it up and bouncing it in my palm, my heart gallops at the power that surges in my blood. “You’re a popular girl, huh?”