Page 93 of Jar of Hearts
Continuing to stroke her son’s hair with one hand, Geo reaches for the gun again, and shoots Calvin in the head.
Maybe this is how it’s supposed to end, after all.
EPILOGUE
Angela Wong’s grave sits in an open area at Rose Hill Cemetery, on the side that gets the most light. Her parents chose a rose quartz headstone for her, and the flecks of silver and gold sparkle brilliantly when the sun is out, as it is right now.
Geo stands in front of it, her cardigan stuffed into her oversized purse, enjoying the soft spring breeze on her bare arms. She’s brought roses this time, pink. But instead of placing the entire bouquet at the base of the tombstone like she has the last half-dozen times she’s visited, she tears off the petals one by one, scattering them all around. The pink petals look pretty against the green grass, and she thinks Angela would have liked it. Leaning forward, she touches the headstone, tracing the engraved letters on the quartz that spell out her best friend’s name, date of birth, and date of death.
Angela Wong had lived sixteen years, two months, and twenty-four days. A fraction of time in what should have been a long, full life.
“I love you,” Geo says out loud. There’s a groundskeeper about forty feet away, trimming the shrubs that border this section of the cemetery. He can’t hear her, and even if he could, he’s seen and heard this kind of thing before. “I brought you a Slurpee—grape, of course—but I ended up drinking it on the way over here. You should see me right now. I’ve gained twenty pounds. I wish you were here to tell me my thighs are getting fat.”
She smiles. For the first time since before Angela died, she can think of her best friend and feel more happiness than grief, though both emotions still exist, sitting side by side like old friends. The difference is, they no longer interfere with one another.
“I miss you, Ang.”
She stands for a moment longer. The groundskeeper looks over, gives her a little wave. They’ve become familiar with each other, though they don’t know each other’s names and have never spoken. She waves back, and starts heading for the paved path that winds around the hill to the other side of the cemetery.
Her mother’s grave is in the shade, underneath a giant oak tree. Geo only recently learned that her parents had family plots, purchased decades ago by Walt’s parents when they first moved into the area. There’ll be space for Geo one day, if she wants it, but hopefully that’s a decision she doesn’t have to think about anytime soon. It’s chilly under the tree, and she digs her sweater out of her bag and slips it on. Her mother’s headstone is simpler and smaller than Angela’s, made of white marble. Grace Maria Gallardo Shaw had lived thirty-three years, seven months, and five days. It’s hard for Geo to comprehend that’s she older now than her mother was when she died. Not by much, but it feels strange. She remembers her mother as being the wisest, most beautiful person in the world.
With some effort, she sits in between her mom’s grave and the one nearest it, which is newer. The grass has grown in completely, and the headstone Geo ordered months ago has finally been finished. It’s similar in shape to her mother’s, but the marble is a deep gray. It causes her pain to look at it, because unlike the others, this loss is fresh.
Her phone rings, and she pulls it out of her purse to check who it is. She smiles and answers the call.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey,” Kaiser says. The background noise tells her he’s driving and she’s on speakerphone. “How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad. I’m at Rose Hill, visiting. The headstone is done, finally. I came to see how it looks.”
There’s a slight pause, and she knows Kaiser is trying to think of the right words. All he comes up with is, “And?”
“It’s beautiful. I’m glad we did it.”
Another pause. She can hear a horn honking in the background.
“I’m okay,” she finally offers, even though he hasn’t asked.
“I know you are.” She can hear Kaiser’s smile over the phone. “I’m on my way home. I’ll pick up some fried chicken. You said you had a craving, and now every time you do, I do. Your dad still coming over? If so, I’ll get that beer he likes.”
Geo manages a chuckle. “Way to kiss ass.”
They disconnect, and she sits for a bit in the shade, looking at the headstone that now sits near her mother’s. Dominic Kent had lived eighteen years, six months, and two days, until he was killed by his biological mother at his biological grandfather’s house. Mark Kent had been notified by the police of his son’s death, and they invited him to come and claim the body once the autopsy was completed. Mark had declined, and didn’t object when Geo said she wanted him. It had taken some maneuvering to get Dominic’s body moved from the morgue to the cemetery, but she was able to make it happen, bringing him here to Rose Hill to be laid to rest in the family plot.
Yes, it had raised a lot of eyebrows, particularly among those in the neighborhood. But the ugly graffiti messages on her father’s garage had finally stopped. They never did find out who was behind them, and people seemed to be moving on. In any case, Geo didn’t expect anyone to understand. The best way she could explain it to herself is that she wanted to give her son the peace and safety in death that she should have given him in life.
She never did ask Kaiser what the police had done with Calvin’s body.
Walter hadn’t protested. Instead, her father had offered to pay for the burial, and later, the headstone. Because he loves his daughter. And had different choices been made, he might have loved his grandson, too. In any case, he’ll get a second chance. Geo rubs her belly, feeling the baby move.
Before she leaves, she reaches into her purse and pulls out thepackage of cinnamon hearts she bought at the 7-Eleven on the way over. She rests them on Dominic’s headstone. The groundskeeper will probably eat them, but that’s okay. The thought makes her smile.
Geo turns and heads for home, stepping out of the shade, and into the sun.
