LACKING FRAGMENTS: A Novel (Completed)

Graveyard Visitors III

I was speechless.

     "For years, I was watching."

     At first, of course I tried to absorb the words coming from his mouth. Every word, phrase, sentence— I decided not to miss any bit. But did he mean all these? Or in a grand scheme of things, could this man standing beside me be another phenomenon? Someone otherworldly? A different type of magic, a darker one. At this stage point, I couldn't be sure any longer. All these while I had questions flying in my head, I listened to him speak. Like, could following a certain person be possible for someone during business hours? If not, alright. But if so, what did this man do for a living? Everyone is a prisoner of a certain kind of something. Like a job, or any passion.

     So many thoughts—in specificity, questions—and yet it seemed like I couldn't speak any of them to him. Speechless. Wordless. Only I'm certain, then, I was the man he was talking about.

     I was the man Maya became fond of.

     "Excuse me, sir," said Rumor, facing me as if sudden realization came up to him, like thunderbolt striking down a big tree in strange looming meadow. And by the sepulcher, tonight, as for his stance, I knew exactly then what he started to do.

     Rumor tried to take a good look at me.

     First from the tomb, Rumor put his attention to my face amidst the darkness overshadowing all the graveyard. However, as response to this, I let him fulfill this obvious wish to examine me deep— I remained standing by his side, by my daughter as well, all while Kiki's grip on my clothing got tighter, tighter. And that this way, I knew, she was telling me that she knew it was me included in the story.

     A few seconds passed by, it finally hit him. Kind of straight punch. "You?" declaring Rumor; as if an electric shock punishing a prisoner, creating an electrified picture. In one second. "It was you?"

     I didn't say anything.

     "Your face, your eyes— it was you!" Rumor continued. "Fucking hell..." He remembered. He took a quick breather; an inhale-filled of air. "It was you."

     "I know." The man he always used to see with her. I nodded a little. "I'm sorry," I said. All within me, I felt the need—the obligation—to tell him this. "I'm tired of saying it, but I think I have to say it again. I'm sorry."

     "You're sorry?" asked Rumor, as if he quoted me in manner of non-forgiving. "Really, at this point, what difference will it make then? This word you're saying, sorry. It's too late..."

     I thought of it over. For a moment I believed that he could be right.

     "I guess I don't have a choice now," added Rumor. "No option, I don't have anything. But I can't... I can't take it yet. I can't just... forgive you."

     Everything is done. Everything always ends.

     It's just the way it is. One way, or another.

     Respect to his feelings, I tried not to say anything. I let him say the things he'd like to say. For a little, I wanted him to shout at me.

     Because...

     "And you know what?" he asked. "If I'm speaking frank, it should have been me..."

     Those were the words—his words—that crept through my skin, straight into my bones. It had given chill, frost. All involved in each of his words.

     And I had no other option but to accept them inside my system. I had guilt; he had his anger, crawling within ourselves.

     By that, perhaps he could be right. During mornings, a run back years ago, if it was him instead of me—whom she waited for at the train station—perhaps my friend could've been saved. She would've been alive. By now. Though in the end, I know no one, not even him, could be certain of survival rate at this time. No, nothing could be sure at this stage anymore. Only the dead. Of course, only the dead whose answers can't be expounded. Not anymore.

     By then I saw Rumor almost burst into tears. Not aloud, no. But there were hiding tears. All the words coming out from him, from his throat up to mouth, the seemingly unending ache of façade in his voice— all of them sounded real. So real as the sureness of sunrises every day, sunsets before evenings. However, still Rumor didn't shed a tear. He remained standing firm. Cold again; angered, beside me and my daughter. And we were by the gravestone of someone we used to know; all as we stared on the old writings right below.

     "You still love her," I noticed. And for this I was sure.

     But he didn't confirm my reading. Instead, Rumor said, "Can I ask you a question?"

     "Sure," I said.

     "Why did she kill herself?"

     "I don't know."

     "But you must've known," pushed Rumor. "If you were that close together, you must have known... right? You were closer than we used to be, I know it," he said. "From afar I've seen her face with you. And I know it...

     "She was happy. I didn't know how happy... but she was. I know it." Rumor paused. "So why?" he kept asking.

     "I'm sorry."

     "Did you hurt her?" he pushed.

     "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I already told you, I don't know."

     "That is bullshit," he almost yelled. I knew he was resisting himself from shouting, trying harder to pretend being calm. Remaining calm. Although no matter the effort of repression beneath his front, in late Rumor kicked off the grassy ground forward. A small amount of dirt scattered at the tombstone. "You should've known!"

     "I don't," I third-time repeated. "And please, calm down yourself, will you? Beside me stood a little girl... Can't you see her with me? And don't you bullshit me... My daughter's here... hearing the things you said and say. She's seeing everything you did and will. Fucking calm down, or else...

     "Well, if you insist on acting like that, you'll be a disturbance to our visit... very great disturbance... for it, I'm gonna have to take you down. I'm willing to take you down."

     "Wait," said Rumor. "Are you saying it's the first time? Of you... visiting her?"

     "I'm afraid it is."

     Rumor then looked at me with intense anger in his eyes. Even amidst the darkness, on deepening evening, I could see how, at any minute, he'd like to throw me a punch straightforward.

     Then, so be it. I'm not afraid.

     "What kind of friend were you..."

     "Father," Kiki interrupted. "Please... let's leave... We have to leave..."

     "No," I said to my daughter. She remained her tight grip on my clothing, with a much more force than she was gripping before. "No," I repeated. "It's a long way from here. The last thing in my to-do list is to leave without giving a proper prayer... If I have to take a disturbance down, I'll do it with no compassion."

     I looked at him again.

     "Can I ask my question now?" Rumor looked back. "Yeah, before we both lose our shit, can you tell where can I find her brother? Tell me."

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