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“Andrew showed up after the service,” I confess.“He threatened you. He told me if I went to anyone, he would go after you and that you would be buried right next to Peter.” I fear that if I look in a mirror, my complexion will be ghostly. I should have bronzed to cover up my sickness. Emotions.“I was so scared; I didn't know where you were,” I glance at Henry and watch his chin drip,“but I know how stubborn you are, and I knew if you ran, you must've run far. I prayed Andrew would never find you. It kept me awake for so many nights.”
I can only see the profile of his face, but I can tell it's painted with very dark emotions.“I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t tell you so you’d feel guilty,” I mutter.
Henry raises his chin and looks ahead with great focus.“I got on a bus and kept going.” Henry begins.
I sink into my seat, but I reach up and grasp my seatbelt, bracing myself for the blanks he’s about to fill in.
“Later that day, I ended up in a bar near a shipping port. It smelt terrible.” He inhales as if personally haunting himself with the memory.“Like guts and fish. Death. It made me feel closer to Peter. Made me feel like I was dead too.” Henry admits.
Oh, Henry.
I roll my lips, wanting to cry.
“I wanted to get shit-faced; I wanted to die. Peter was my twin, but he stopped being that when Mom and Dad died. He became my parent then. In a way, we both lost a parent again. I knew I could never fill his shoes.” He licks his lips but keeps his eyes on the road.“I tried to get drunk, but the bartender stopped me, which provoked me to punch him. I got my ass beat and was tossed outside into a puddle of fish juice.” He snorts sardonically,“I just laid in it, in the filth and stench. Then, like some dark angel, a shadow fell over me. A man watching everything, lurking in the shadows, he didn’t intervene when they beat me; he only stepped in when I wanted to give up.”
“Who was he?”
“A friend I had yet to meet.”
A pang of jealousy fills me.
“He taught me how to read the world when everything in it was painted red,” Henry mutters quickly.“He didn’t agree with what I was doing to you, but he understood why I kept you away. You are who you surround yourself with, Poppy. I’m not darkness. I’m a void.”
His words shock me, but they are true. After losing so much, your palette changes. You’re less saturated and less colorful. Muted. Like a fall or winter scheme.
“But,” Henry glances at me,“You still have light. Hope. You still try to see the good in people. I didn’t want to be the bucket of acid that was poured into your spirits. That slowly eroded you until you dissolved.”
“Henry,”
He shakes his head,“It’s the truth. I’m scared, Pops.”
My nickname. A tear falls, landing on my lips. I lick it off, swallow it, and hope I can remember the sound of my nickname on his lips.
“I don’t want to corrupt you.”
“What if I’m the one that corrupts you? What if I make you believe you can be good again? Be a brother again.” I challenge him.
“I never considered that.”
“I’m not shocked. You never were the smartest.” I try and joke.
It works, he smiles.
“Harper,” He shakes his head,“As annoying as fuck as she is,” he shrugs,“She was the best medicine for you. She healed you after Mom and Dad and after Peter. She kept the light in you alive.”
I nod and snort,“She’s only gotten worse with age.”
“I’ll never be able to thank her.”
“Oh, you will; trust me, she’ll find ways. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He turns the car, passing iron gates with metal flowers wrapped around the stakes. I know a gravesite should be scary, but this place—well, it’s pretty, if death could be beautiful. It’s like a nice frame around a picture. Manicured lawns, green grass, and rose bushes wrap around the drive-in. Butterflies fly around the flowers. I feel sad for them and the flowers to be surrounded by death 24/7.
Henry turns the car into the gravel parking lot, which changes the feeling I just had. It is no longer a smooth road but now course and bumpy, as if it’s preparing you to visit the dead.
We park, and both pause before we get out. It feels like we’re about to do something monumental, like we’re going to walk on the moon, our steps uncharted. We’ve never been here together to pay our respects. It feels like we each need a space suit with a life supply in it.
