There are ways of dying that do not end with a funeral. Types of deaths you can't see, feel or smell. Because death, just like love, has a mind of its own and some things can't be prevented.
What started as an innocent high school quest in search o...
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I drive us to Cabrillo Beach in Rose's battered up truck (that I've borrowed this morning in order to be able to attend the funeral— separately, since she was adamant on carpooling with Cassidy, which I know was just another attempt of hers to make sure we're not left alone, and therefore she isn't forced to talk with me about the whole situation with Carlos and Leal and can stay in her sweet non-talkative denial state) because that's the first place that pops into my mind when I think of where to go in order to get the furthest from the city center.
Aspen's quiet the whole time – the whole hour the ride takes, only watching the world from behind the passenger side window as we breeze through the highways and intersections, leaving the city behind us.
The wind is stronger here, out in the open space, and we're still dressed formally, all-black, so we might come off a little weird to the few people scattered here and there as I lead the way to the particular spot – the small rocky alcove hidden behind a row of pine and palm trees.
"Wow," she's the first one to break the silence as her eyes take in the surroundings, scanning it all out. "It's really pretty here."
I give her a smile, "I know, right? This used to be my favorite place." After Adam. He was actually the one who showed it to me when he brought me here one day. But talking about someone who's no longer here with her right now might not be the best idea so I don't tell her that. "I actually never brought anyone here."
She turns her head slightly to look at me. "Never? Why?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I guess. . . I didn't feel like sharing it with anyone so I just kept it a secret. It's silly." I laugh, flicking my gaze toward the sand beneath my sneakers. "But . . . Sometimes. . . There are certain things you don't want to share with anyone else because part of why you love it so much is because you're the only one who knows. There's nothing else that could ruin it for you."
The words just spill out of me and a sudden wave of panic crashes through me. Maybe I told her too much. Yeah, too much of stupid shit. Maybe I'm not even making any sense.
She only presses her lips together, intently focused on the sand beneath her feet, too, before plopping down into a sitting position. I follow her lead and do the same, keeping a safe distance between us.
"Why did you bring me here now, then?" She asks after a minute of silence, watching the ocean waves crash against one another.
"I don't know." And partly, that's true because I feel like I don't know the exact answer to that. But I also think Because you needed to be sheltered from the rest of the world and this is the best kind of shelter I could give you. "Sometimes, it's not so bad to share, either, you know?"
She nods absentmindedly, "Yeah." But it seems like it's just a phrase, when in reality, she wants to say something else instead. I guess that makes it the two of us.
