Page 17 of The Last Thing You Said

“Come on, help me out. I want to have fun this summer. I don’t want to work at the restaurant.”

“Oh, it’s fine for me but not for you?”

“That’s right. Looking out for number one.”

“As usual,” I spit. “Tell them yourself.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and hit end as I walk across the cemetery.

Trixie’s grave is on the side farthest from the church, close to a small cluster of silver maple trees. Her headstone is red granite, small and simple. Her name, the dates, Beloved Daughter and Sister.

Trixie’s mother, Jane, has planted flowers, the earth damp where it’s recently been watered. She’s been here today. This is her first Mother’s Day without Trixie.

At the foot of Trixie’s grave is a small stone bench with cherubs carved into the legs. I sit and face the headstone.

“Hey, Trix.” That’s how I always begin.

And then I talk.

I talk about Emily and how excited I am to be her nanny this summer, even though I’m not all that excited about cleaning the cabins and hauling trash around. I tell her about my phone call with Clay, about Hannah and Dustin and the movie last night and how it still feels weird to go to the movies without her.

I tell her about the Clarks and the renters and Simon and his Dr Pepper T-shirt. “And, um, he’s pretty cute,” I say. “What do you think? Should I go for it with Simon the Renter?”

I move from the bench to kneel close to the headstone. I stroke my fingers over the tops of the marigolds.

“I’ve been seeing Ben around a lot lately. I’m worried about him, Trix. He’s always so angry. He won’t talk to me. I mean . . . I know it’s hard for him without you. I get that. He misses you. But what I don’t understand is why he had to take it out on me. Why did he push me away? Why did he say those terrible things?”

Trixie doesn’t answer.

Only one person can answer those questions.

“I’m trying to be brave, Trixie,” I whisper. “It was a lot easier when you were around to remind me.”

I stand and brush grass from my knees. I reach into my pocket for a root beer barrel, twist the cellophane wrapper open, and place it on top of Trixie’s headstone. I leave her a piece of candy from Sweet Pea’s every time I visit, and every time I come back, it’s gone. Root beer barrels, cinnamon disks, butterscotches, jawbreakers. All her favorites. I like to think she’s enjoying the candy, even though it’s probably taken by a raccoon or squirrel.

“I’m going to ask him,” I say. “The next time I see him, I’m going to walk right up to him and ask him why he pushed me out of his life.” I bring two fingers to my lips and then touch them to the top of the gravestone. “Later, Trix. I miss you.”

I turn. My breath catches when I see Ben standing on the front steps of the church, leaning over the railing. He’s watching me and he looks so sad. I wonder how long he’s been there and if he could have possibly heard anything I said to Trixie.

I drop my eyes and walk down to the street. My brilliant plan to confront him, to get my answers, is crushed into the grass beneath every footfall.

10 · Ben

Lucy’s at the cemetery.

It’s Mother’s Day, Mum’s first without Trixie. I stopped going to church after Trixie died, and I never go to the cemetery, but this morning when Mum asked me to go, I didn’t have the heart to say no. And it was bad. Mum cried and Dad hugged her and I sort of hung back at the edge of the row of headstones and let them have their moment.

She’s not there. Trixie died, and what we put in the ground is a shell of what she was. I don’t go into her room, and I can’t bring myself to sit at her grave.

What good would it do? It wouldn’t make me feel better.

Mum’s been crying most of the day, so when Dad asked me to run back up here and bring her some lilacs from a bush at Trixie’s grave, I went.

But Lucy’s here.

I stand on the front steps of the church and I watch her. She’s talking, but she’s too far away for me to hear. She stands up and pulls something out of her pocket and places it on top of the gravestone. She kisses her fingers and presses them to the stone. I try to swallow the lump that’s suddenly in my throat. I shouldn’t be watching this.

Before I can move off the steps, though, Lucy turns and sees me.