The Class Agreement

58

"Things are different. They always will be," I said. "I wonder how much different it would be if — never mind that. You know what I'm thinking of already. You always do. How crazy is all this? I'm so grown up now as everyone likes to say. Graduated high school — only about two years late, but maybe it was for the better, right? The problem kid is now the high school graduate, off to be something spectacular in her life. I'm scared of college. I don't know what to expect. Scared about managing a house on my own. I know with the money I'm set for the rest of my life, but ... what did that really cost us? What if I'm not good at what I'm studying and I waste money. What if I waste all of it?"

I sighed. All normal feelings and thoughts for coming of age young adults like me, I guess.

"But forget about that. I'm trying to forget about my fears right now. I wanted to tell you about Athena. My ... girlfriend. She's everything I could ever ask for in a person. She's so beautiful and wise and full of wisdom, like you. She was, uh, my teacher. It's a very weird and long story, but she's great. We're leaving tomorrow. The new house is finally settled and empty so we fly out tomorrow while the trucks have already got a head start with our stuff."

I shifted my weight on my other leg, my hands digging into my pockets.

"I miss you, Mom. You came to me in a dream. You saved me and every day I wish Dad and I could've saved you. I wish you here to see me walk the stage and take my diploma. I wish you were here to hug me and play with my hair again — make me tea and tell me stories about your upbringing — about Grandma and Grandpa before they died. I wish you were here to meet Athena."

I wiped the tears from my eyes and sniffled, "Me and Dad don't want to leave your grave behind, but we know how much you hated the idea of people coming to visit your tombstone. I know you didn't want me to see you in a casket after I already saw your death. I know you can care less about us not visiting because you made it clear your soul was not bound here — to this ... stupid cemetery, but I'll still come and visit every once and a while. I promise, Mom. Just don't forget to drop by on us, okay?"

A soft hand on my back made me turn around to sad brown eyes, diamond earrings, and a short tight cotton cream dress. Athena's hair was pulled back, her purse hanging over her shoulder. She was carrying a small bouquet of flowers in her other hand. She looked forwards to my mother's tombstone and smiled a little.

"May I?" She asked quietly.

I cleared my throat, and wiped my cheeks dry, "Of course."

She stepped around me, the grass underneath our feet looking as green as ever. Her heels were digging into the ground. She gently placed the bouquet in front of the tombstone. My eyes were reading over the words — Nova Morgan Jolie. A daughter, mother, lover, and angel that was called back to heaven too soon.

"Mrs. Jolie, who knew you'd have such a blessed and loving family. Who knew you'd give birth to the young woman I've come to love in so many ways. She tells me all the time about you. About your memories, your stories. To think I'm worthy enough to hear these precious momento's is purely fulfilling and heartwarming. Your daughter has taken care of me in ways I have never thought was even possible. She's given and shown me a whole new meaning and side of love I never knew existed. She's so precious and honest. Strong and intelligent. Considerate and thoughtful. Brave and fearless. And I am so proud of her. I can only imagine how proud you are too. I will do my best to take care of her and protect her for as long as I possibly can. To fight for her and love her just as you have. I hope one day we get to meet so I can thank you properly. Thank you for raising such a loveable young woman."

My tears didn't stop, but I figured that much. I was fighting to keep my composure. I didn't want to crumble into a sobbing mess when this is supposed to be our last day in Westley. I was supposed to see my friends later and say my final goodbyes until I could visit again.