Page 132 of With Spite

She was my best friend.

My confidant.

My everything.

What was I going to do without her?

I lay down in the hospital bed with her and cuddled her close.

“Tell Birdee that I love her.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

“Don’t forget to live, Hux,” she whispered. “Go work out. Go to work. Go ride your bike in the mountains every spring. Live.”

But I didn’t want to fucking live.

Not without her.

“Okay,” I said anyway.

“I love you.”

I felt the traitorous tears leak out. “I love you, too.”

Her breathing hitched.

And I felt her go.

I closed my eyes and cried.

“You have to let her go, Dad,” I heard my Mattie say.

I shook my head. “Never.”

Six months later

I stared out over the mountain where Bernice and I had made our home.

The first pop of spring had finally shown, and I was staring at the colorful wildflowers that would one day be my final resting place.

“I’m ready to come home, Bernice.”

A sharp wind blew, and a petal off one of the wildflowers blew directly at me.

It landed in my lap. The petal canary yellow, just like her diamond.

“Okay, I’ll wait,” I grumbled. “But soon.”

The wind blew again as if she was saying, “Soon.”

Mattie

Five years later

“Ready?” I asked my siblings.

They all nodded.