I walk through the too-tall grass, reciting the number in my head as I scan each ID marker attached to the small block of cement it’s labeling. I’ve been walking this public cemetery the state used to use for unclaimed bodies for a while, my feet starting to drag from my boots getting heavier.
I continue forward. It took a lot of fucking hounding to get this information from the social services office. I heard the same shit over and over—‘the unclaimed and less fortunate deceased are cremated or donated to science. The state no longer has the funds to provide burials’.
If I heard it once, I heard it ten damn times. And all ten times I told her to check the fucking system because it was twenty-six years ago. I knew before she rechecked the computer that they buried her. Special circumstances and all—her growing up in the system and me being left behind and orphaned—a state official privately paid for a basic burial: a plot and marker.
I stop when the number in front of me matches the one in my head. I stare at it. The small square of cement is blank, not even marking her name. The surrounding grass hasn’t seen a weed-eater in way too long. It’s as if the existence of her was erased when they laid her in the ground. I may not fear death or pity those I force down that road, but victims like her deserve to be remembered by someone, to be grieved over. Rachel James should be carved into that stone, not some meaningless number.
I lay the small bouquet of flowers down on the grass that I picked up at the first grocery store I passed. Not the best quality. Didn’t cost me but ten bucks, but it felt wrong to show up without them after all this time. I’ve never been to a cemetery before, but anyone that has a brain knows you bring flowers to those that meant something.
I stand tall, towering over the tiny plot no bigger than a body size, trying to sort through the overload of thoughts racing in my head. I don’t know what the fuck to say. I’m not one to talk to myself or believe someone can hear me who’s been dead for close to three decades. But I vowed I would come here before I go home—for closure.
I meant what I said before I ended him. I have to dig deep to find a man that can make Delta happy, that can be a decent father, even though it’s the only thing that truly terrifies me, because somehow, I know that I’m going to fuck this up. I have too much bad blood running through my veins.
“I know you can’t hear me. Fuck, maybe you can. What do I know anymore? Never walked in the afterlife. I needed you to know that it’s done. He paid in your name. Where I failed before I succeeded this time. It started because of me and it ended with me.” I grab the flat bill of my hat and twist it toward the side, looking around. For miles, it’s empty of anyone with life.
“I didn’t remember you for a long time, but I remember you now; parts of you. I remember Waffle House breakfasts after you got off. I remember superhero capes made from towels. I remember house sitting for the rich for access to a pool and nicer things for a few days. At least that’s what you said we were doing. Now that I’m grown, I’m not sure if that was legit or if we were trespassing and that was your cover-up.” A single, dry laugh slips. “Maybe I’m more like you than I thought. The most important thing I do remember is there were never any men around. When you were there, you were there, mentally and physically. It was just us. You were a good mom with what you had. I know you did the best you could. I don’t blame you—for leaving or coming back, for what happened to me. I know you loved me, and even though a lot of shit has changed, that little boy loved you too. So just know, I did it for you, and after all these years I hope you can finally rest in peace. Walk in the light a little brighter knowing there’s no one else he can torment.”
I place my hands in the pockets of my jeans and take a step back. “Probably won’t be back, but maybe I will. I got a girl to look after. Come this summer, I’ll have two. Girls scare the hell out of me. I fear something will happen to her. I’m worried too much of him is in my blood and one day I’ll snap. I told her to end it too. I deserved it when she left me. You would have thought so too. I was a fucking coward. When I looked him in the eyes, I couldn’t even be mad he wanted me gone. I wanted her gone too. I wanted my girl all to myself. I didn’t want the responsibility of a kid. But here I am, about to raise one.”
I roll my neck from side to side. “If you’re listening, I need you to do me a favor. Tell me when I’m fucking up, when I’m acting like him. When his DNA is overpowering yours. Burn my soul if you have too, but don’t let me hurt them. Promise me.”
A crow swoops down from the tree branch above, landing on the small cement block, staring at me with its beady eyes, its black coat shining in the sunlight, before it caws twice and flies off.
I smile.
An animal that won’t hurt you but so many fear what its presence represents—something is about to change, a death omen, a spiritual blessing, or confirmation that a powerful human has crossed into the afterlife . . .
I turn and walk away. I’d be worried if it was anything else. Forever a player in the dark. A ruler of the night. The way I see it—that powerful son of a bitch is forever gone. A kingdom overcome.
