Graveyard

In a silver overcast so a teddy bear dangled along. Matt stared up while making the trek: he knew it by heart.

Half way up the middle hill, two rows after the plaque bench. Inscribed about a couple who worked the near library, adored by the neighboring tenants of the 1960s. Some of the grass tuft covered an animal footpaw design.

He brought his attention downward but narrow still, blocking out all of the other gravestones, counting each foot — it took anything from 27 to 33 depending on the strides. Looking for the signal: a patch of dying daisies before five steps more.

He usually stared down for a minute more for some composure if he was feeling anything but the habitual empty. With two deep breaths he looked up and, after a pause, greeted.

“Hey Megan.”

He looked once more at the sky to try to stop the thoughts flooding. Sunset was nearing.

“It’s been a bit. Remember Mr. Chief?” and he lifted the teddy higher, almost waiting for her response.

“I remember when Mom and Dad bought this for you. We were visiting D.C. and one of the vendors with a little rusty cart had him on display. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Frankly, I was annoyed at the time. Funny, huh?”

There were three other hills all surrounding, with rows of stone for what seemed to be miles. With a squint of eye one could see the menacing spike fence entrance and how it traces around the border.

“I guess you’d be too old now to care. Well, I’ve come with some news. Maybe you could give me a sign,” he continued.

“Mom is with you now. You and Dad. At least I hope. She didn’t have much of a fight. I checked her in at the hospital a month ago. She was all shallow breathing. They hooked her up to one of the two CPAP machines and assured…”

The clamp in his throat left him trailing. With two deep breaths he was determined to continue; he felt it necessary.

“Well, I finished the rest of the paperwork.”

He paused again.

“I wonder what you could say to me now if I could hear. I still wish I could apologize the day you guys left.”

He was feeling more sturdy, sinking into a soldier’s report or his own eulogy.

“Well, I guess I’m the last to go. Maybe I’ll launch out, like we used to at the playground. Catch a big break, talk show enthusiast. I’m joking of course, that was yours. You’d be the mayor of the day saying goodbye to everyone. While I’d wait and watch next to Mom.”

He put the teddy bear up against the gravestone, worried the arm might rip off otherwise. Dust was embedded into its ears. But in the twilight the graveyard felt alive for a moment, alighting each dandelion about.

“You may be mad at me for this, but I put up the house for sale. It’s already under contract. I’ve been finding it hard walking… walking around. I see a light under your door, or someone talking in the kitchen. But when I step forward it’s empty and silent. All I can eat are takeout meals. I guess I was always a little pathetic as an older brother, huh?”

The teddy bear fell over from the breeze, without a sound.

“Well I don’t mean to bore you with the details. I just wanted someone to talk to. And I’m not sure when’s the next time I’ll be in town. More news: I got a job south of Missouri. Maybe the new place will help. I don’t know anyone around here anymore.”

He hesitated on leaving the bear here or not. But since mostly everything in the house was getting sold — including everything in Megan’s untouched room — he figured it’s best kept here.

“Well, thanks for listening. Maybe I’ll come back before I leave the state, I don’t know.”

He was going to leave it at that, hoping she’d understand, but he stopped mid-step and readjusted. With the collar of his shirt he rubbed his eyes, took some shallow breaths.

“I miss you.”

Twilight soon passed, and everything around Matt looked muted grey, quiet. He knelt down one last time and propped up the bear against the gravestone.

“Everyone will pay for what they’ve done.”