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“Come here.”
I stepped into my best friend’s arms, and we held each other tight.
“I love you, Heidi.”
“Love you, too, Em.”
“Call me if you need me.”
I nodded and then pulled away. I was used to doing this routine alone, so I’d told Landon that I would pick him up. It helped me to be in control of the situation, to have my hands on the wheel and know exactly where I was going.
I drove across town to his apartment, and he was waiting for me in khaki shorts and a blue polo with tennis shoes, Ray-Bans, and a hat. He looked comfortable and laid-back, which was what I’d suggested. It was nice to see him out of his stuffy suit…and in something other than his birthday suit. Though that one was my favorite.
He popped open the passenger door and sank into the seat. “Morning, gorgeous.”
“Hey,” I said with a sad smile. “You ready?”
“As long as you are.”
I bit my lip and then put the car in drive.
We didn’t speak as we drove. He seemed comfortable with the silence. I needed it. There were too many thoughts—ideas, stories, memories—running through my head and cluttering my mind. Everything I never let myself think about, which overloaded me on this day. I was the queen of compartmentalization, but when I stepped back and looked at the file drawers of memories categorized in my mind, everything just tumbled out. Rows and rows of cards and videos and letters that just took over. I let myself feel it, breathe it in. It ached like nothing else. But I needed to feel it to stay sane.
We pulled into the cemetery a few minutes later, and Landon inhaled sharply. It was the biggest cemetery in Lubbock with enormous headstones and even a crypt or two. And everyone knew someone who lived here.
I maneuvered into a huge parking lot and killed the engine. I’d deposited flowers in the backseat before coming to get Landon and grabbed them as we got out of the car. He wrapped a strong arm around my shoulders as we silently threaded through the tombstones.
My mother was waiting in the center of the stones.
Mary Elizabeth Martin
June 21, 1969—October 17, 2000
A good mother, wife, and friend
I placed the flowers in front of her gravestone. Orchids—her favorite.
The worst part was, I never knew what to say. It was why I didn’t visit as often as I probably should have. Because, when I talked to my mom, it was hard not to mention my dad. She’d asked about him. And the answers hurt too much.
He’s not the guy you knew.
He’s not a good dad anymore.
He gave up on you. On me. On himself.
You’d be ashamed of him now.
Landon gently rubbed my back. I was glad he was here. Even if it was hard for him since both of his parents were buried here, too.
“Hey, Mom,” I whispered. “I, uh…just wanted to stop by and introduce you to Landon. He’s, uh…a, uh, Wright. You probably knew his dad.” I glanced over at Landon, and he just smiled. “He’s kind of my boyfriend, and I thought you should meet.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Martin. You have a real great girl here,” Landon said. Then, he turned to face me. “So, I’m kind of your boyfriend, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m looking forward to the day we can get rid of that kind of part.”
“Me, too,” I whispered. “You know, few years I’ll be as old as my mom when she died. It’s scary to think that I’ll live longer than she did.”
