“I brought you flowers. They’re bright and orange, just like the sun today. I thought you might like them. But if you don’t, just let me know, I’m sure the man at the convenience store would have no problem taking them back.” Glory lowered herself to the ground, crossing her legs. “I also brought you a little something to drink.” She pulled a half-empty bottle of Hennessy out her bag. “Your favourite. When’s the last time you’ve had any of this, huh?” She laughed.
She poured a shot for each of them in little plastic cups. “Cheers. To life.” She lifted her cup, smiling. “Too soon? No, you can take a joke. Always could. So what’s new?” She stared at the tall grey stone and laughed.
“What’s new with me, you ask? I’m gonna be done high school in the next week. Time really does fly. What a dream that’ll be. Then there’s graduation. I can’t wait. Mom’s already bought her outfit. I sort of wish you could see it. Not the outfit but the graduation ceremony. I’m finally doing it, just like you always pushed me to.” She lifted the cup to her lips, drinking.
“Yes, the bottle is half-empty. I knew you were going to point that out. The boys got their hands on it, lucky thing I caught them when I did. You know how they are.” She sighed. “I didn’t tell them why I bought it. I didn’t tell them I was coming to see you, they don’t get it. And how many more times do I have to explain? I know that what happened was a freak accident. There’s no way you killed Sandra on purpose. I try to tell everybody you loved us. But they don’t get it. They ask me how I could even think about coming to see you. But I go to visit Sandra, just like I do you. I tell them everybody deserves someone to mourn them once they’re gone. So here I am, mourning.” She drank some more. Glory sat silently, staring at the engraving in the stone.
Of course I have my questions too. I mean, what troubled you so much you had to get that drunk? And what possessed you to get in the car and drive? I wonder if you ran us down on purpose, but there’s no way of getting an answer so maybe there’s no point in even asking.”
Glory nodded, transported back to the night of the car accident. Suddenly, her head throbbed like it had then. The bright lights, loud noise and impact culminating in the worst pain she’d ever experienced.
“I’ve been healing well. My physiotherapist says I’ll be good to walk without my crutches in another three weeks. Oh and I forgot to tell you, the school’s going to put up a mural for Sandra on the day of graduation too. I think that’s really nice. They’re gonna put it right in the middle of the art wing. It’ll be beautiful. I’m sure she’d love it.” She took a final drink from her cup.
“You’re not drinking much of yours.” She poured half of the cup’s contents on the ground beneath which her father laid. Then she finished it off, wiping her mouth in her sleeve. “It was good to see you. Same time next week?” She laughed and rose to her feet slowly. She kissed her hand then pressed it against the cold, thick tombstone. “I love you, Dad.”
Glory flung her bag over her shoulder then walked across the cemetery to a clean, white tombstone surrounded by flowers. She pulled a bunch of red roses out of her bag and sat down.
“Red roses for date night. I hope you like them. Honestly, I hope they don’t get lost among all the others. You seem to have had many visitors this week. Lucky girl. You’re so loved. So missed.” She shook her head. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined spending our sixth month anniversary. You know what they say, go with the flow.” She shrugged.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you last week, they’re putting up one of your pieces at school. It’s gonna be big. They’re doing the unveiling at grad. I wish you could see it. I wish you could see everything. I’m so proud of you.” Tears brimmed her eyes. “You’re finally realizing your dream. Showing off your art to everybody. And just think, it’ll be there for years and years to come. You’re art is going to touch so many lives, Sandra. I just wish you could see.”
Glory instinctively pulled grass out the ground. When she looked up at the tombstone, she dropped the grass quickly. “Sorry. Bad habit.” She pat the ground as if that would repair it. “It feels like all I’ve been saying to you lately is sorry. Sorry for my dad, even before the accident. You remember when you first met him? Oh my god. And he was wearing those old cowboy boots. I don’t even know where he had gotten those.” She laughed at the only sweet part of the night.
“It wasn’t a good idea. I guess since I don’t know if you can hear me I’ll admit it, you were right. I knew he was bad but. Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. This is awful. This is the worst thing. The worst possible case and I didn’t see it coming. I never saw this coming. I’m so sorry. I would go back. I wanna go back. I want you right here. Not underneath me. I wish it was me. And I know you don’t wanna hear that, but I do. Because it’s all my fault. And I wish I didn’t do any of this. I even wish I — I wouldn’t have met you if that means this wouldn’t have happened. I wish it was me. You didn’t deserve this. You were good to me. You were good. So good, so talented, so beautiful, so smart. You shouldn’t be dead. I’m so sorry. This happened by accident. It was an accident. My dad told me, just before he died. My brothers don’t believe it but he didn’t mean it. He — he didn’t mean it.”
Jam Bridgett (they/she) is a queer student, visual artist and writer of Afro-Jamaican descent in Toronto. Jam is interested in diaspora, gender, and human connection to the Earth. Their work can be found in Ascend Magazine, Tongue Tied Magazine and Rose Quartz Magazine. Jam is currently working on their first novel. Find them on Instagram and Twitter @yikesjamaica