Every Dark Corner

10: Mom and Dad

Holy Cross Cemetery, while not as crowded as Washington, thank God, is a sizable plot of land. Still, my eight-year-old self had no trouble navigating it, an impressive feat considering I wasn't mentally present on any of those visits. I was in my head the whole time, living a different life -- the continuation of a life -- in which my parents were still by my side, and we were just taking a trip into the city, or heading to Montauk for the weekend, or visiting my aging grandparents in Jersey, before they passed too and my next-of-kin was a red-haired cousin of my mom living in a little brownstone in the Brownsville neighborhood of Brooklyn.

None of those thoughts and memories could ever erase the path to my parents' graves from my mind.

I walk that path now. The sun is setting, and beautiful as it is, I wish the first snow would have fallen already. Those days make the best visits, with the pink light reflecting off of white crystals that haven't been soiled by tire tracks and dirty boots.

"I thought you had stopped coming here."

"And I thought you had stopped popping up at the randomest times, but I guess we're both wrong." I meet Ryker's eyes as he approaches, and I think I catch the hint of a smile on his lips.

But then it's gone. "Do you remember what happened?" he asks suddenly.

I can't help but quip, "I thought you knew all about me, already."

Ryker laughs bitterly. "I know there was a fire, is all. And your sister lost her hearing."

"Ah, you are technically correct, but those two incidents are completely unrelated, eight whole years apart." Ryker scoffs and I raise my eyebrows at him. "What?"

"Nothing," he shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Please, elaborate." He sits down on a bench and motions for me to join him. I listen to the birds settling in for the night, singing the last notes of their songs and rustling the leaves high up in the trees before I begin.

"I didn't learn about the fire until the day after. Bellamy and I had been with our grandparents for the weekend. I remember hearing them moving around and talking downstairs after Bell and I had gone to bed, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. And, I mean, my grandma loved talking on the phone, so I just assumed she was chatting with a friend of hers from bingo or something when the phone rang.

"I heard the garage door opening and a car driving away, and my grandpa stepped in to check on us. Bellamy was out and I pretended to fall asleep. Sometimes I regret that. I wish I would've gotten up and asked what was wrong. Maybe I would've been able to see them one more time."

Ryker scrunches up his eyebrows in a way that makes him look way younger than he acts. "Do you think you would've wanted that?"

I shrug. "I guess I'll never know, but they told me later that they died of smoke inhalation right before they were found. They had gone into the bathroom, trying to get out the window, but they just couldn't break the glass. Everyone said they must've been weak from the smoke and heat, but it just doesn't make sense, I just could never understand...

"Anyway, by the time the firefighters got to them, their hearts had stopped, but the burns were minimal. I still could've seen their faces, could've hugged them one more time before they were taken for a dead-end investigation and...dissected like fucking animals."

"They suspected foul play?" Ryker asks, his curiosity seeming a little forced, as if covering discomfort.

"No one knew what to suspect. A normal, middle-class couple with two children suddenly wiped out by a mysterious fire -- and also missing a substantial amount of blood but not wounded? -- the one time their children spent the night away from their parents...? None of it made any sense. And the icing on the cake came eight years later when their youngest kid began burning up from the inside and no one could figure out why. Then, one day, as if nothing had happened, the fever broke, but the girl could no longer hear a thing."

It takes me a second to realize that I'm sweating in the chill, my heart is pounding out of my chest, and tears are streaming down my face.

"Why--" Ryker begins, then seems to reconsider his wording before starting again. "Wasn't it...your birthday?" I nod after a moment, and I hear Ryker shifting next to me, but I don't look at him. I'm afraid to meet his eyes and be greeted with stupid pity. "But your parents weren't spending it with you?"

Ryker's insensitivity is making my blood boil even more. "Not everyone can afford not working and just wandering around doing whatever they please. My parents had to work that Friday but were going to join us in Jersey on Saturday, but of course things just don't always work out how you have them planned. Any more questions, Detective Vandergrifft?"

I know he's staring at me, but I don't meet his gaze. After a moment, he gets up and I watch him walk away. I watch him until his dark frame blends in with the farthest tombstone, until he has vanished from my sight yet again. Even after he's gone, I continue staring out into the sea of stones, but my mind isn't here. I am in that other life, the good one, where, my God, I wish I could stay.