Words Left Unspoken

Epilogue.

The sun shines down brightly from high overhead as a soft breeze ripples the tips of the grass in the lush, manicured lawns. Rays of light reflect off of cold, polished marble, making the headstones glint.

Blossoming cherry trees add color to the graveyard, their pink petals floating to the ground to adorn the stones with a soft, rosy snow.

Fluttering from blossom to blossom, a yellow and black butterfly swoops down from the trees to rest on a simple, clean headstone. Its wings open and close slowly, as if the insect is enjoy its rest.

The polish marble, on which it sits, appears clean and new. Unlike the others, its luster is not yet dulled or streaked by the wind and rain. Carved into its flat surface are a few, simple words. It reads:

                                                              Gracie May Jones

                                             February 13, 1991 – April 28, 2009

                                                    Beloved daughter and friend,

                                                          you left us too soon.

                                                                We miss you.

As soft footsteps approach the grave, barely making any sound in the thick, green grass, the butterfly takes flight, fluttering away. The approaching footfalls made by worn sneakers stop at the edge of the grave. Julia stands still for a long moment, staring down at the words on the head stone, trying to make sense of it all.

After a long moment, she lowers herself to her knees, so that she is level with the words. The light, afternoon breeze plays with her blond hair, tickling her face as if trying to make her smile. Tears shimmer in her sapphire eyes, threatening to spill over. She wipes them away with the back of her hand, taking a shaky breath.

“Gracie,” she begins, but her voice catches on the word. The tears begin to flow more quickly and she lets them fall, closing her eyes tightly and taking a deep breath before beginning. She wipes her nose and sniffs, pulling a folded piece of paper out of her back pocket. With shaking hands, she opens it.

She clears her throat, and sniffs again, trying to gain enough control over her emotions to speak. “I got your letter,” she starts again, as she stares at the pages in her hand. The penned words are smeared by old tears, but new ones fall, landing on the sheet and making the letter even more indecipherable.

“Gracie, I was stupid—but I didn’t mean any of it. I’m so sorry. I was an idiot,” she pauses, taking a breath. “I never meant to throw our friendship away. It was important to me—you are important to me,” she sobs, covering her face with her hands.

“How could I have been such an idiot? I wanted to talk to you, to be friends, but I was so obsessed with my new life. My new friends saw you as a threat so they hated you—and I just wanted to fit in. I tried to make excuses to them to validate my desire to keep you as a friend, but after what happened at the party, they had more ammunition than they knew what to do with. I felt like I had to join in—you’d kissed my boyfriend after all. I only dated him for his status, and deep down I knew he was no good. I was so stupid that it’s embarrassing. None of those girls are really my friends anyways. They all talk about me behind my back, and lie to my face.” She manages a strangled laugh. “And to think I gave up talking to you for them.”

“I didn’t change, not really—I just pretended because I thought being popular would make my life so much more exciting. See?” she turns around and removes one of her Nikes. “I didn’t even have the heart to throw away my old shoes.” She shakes her head. “So how could I have thrown away something so much more important than shoes?” She hangs her head.