Page 8 of Diamonds in the Dark
“Gwen, I just thought it might help, but then again, you are tragically fascinated by assholes, so maybe not!” We both laugh and then she asks me if we are still on for lunch at one today.
I had honestly forgotten we had lunch scheduled today. However, I don't want her to know that I have forgotten. I at least owe her lunch for her coming to help me get all my stuff out of Edward’s house. I look at the clock, it is just nine now and I am about finished with my work, at least for now. I tell her that yes, we were still on, and I would see her in a few hours. We talk about a few other things, and I fill her in a little on Edward calling me last night. She is disgusted, but not shocked. Becca has always despised Edward from the day she met him, and she never trusted him. She always said he gives her the creeps.
“Gwen, you can do so much better. Please do not fall back into his trap. I know it is your life. I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” she says.
I guarantee her I am through with that chapter of my life. As far as I am concerned, it is closed, set on fire and the ashes left behind have been melted with the rain of my tears.
We say our good-byes and I scurry upstairs and get dressed. When I am ready to go, I realize it is only ten thirty. I decide on a whim to drop by the cemetery to see Mom. A voice in the back of my mind reminds me that maybe the real reason I want to go for a second day in a row has nothing to do with wanting to see my mom, but everything to do with a certain mysterious man. I tell the voice to shut up. It has no idea what it is talking about. I seem to have picked up a new habit of talking to myself lately.
As I park my car at the curb near my mom’s grave, I can already see Asher standing by the grave he was at yesterday. I feel nervousness creeping up in my abdomen at the prospect of talking to him for a second time. This is ludicrous. I think to myself. I want to see and talk to him, but at the same time I just feel all jittery inside like a teenager wanting to talk to a boy that she is totally crushing on, except I am not crushing on him, I don't believe. I am curious about him. I get out of the car, throw my hand up at Asher in a small wave and walk over to the bench I always sit at. I quietly tell Mom good morning and that I miss her. I slide off my jacket I had thrown on as an afterthought, thinking the cool morning air might hang around for a while. However, the sun is already warming the air to the point that a jacket is a little too much. I also brought my trusty, run away sunhat just in case. I really need to find my sunglasses or buy a new pair so I can leave the old hat at home!
“Good morning, Gwen.” Asher says from behind me.
I almost fall backwards off the bench I had just sat down on. I had not seen him move from where he had been standing when I got here. I never heard him walking up behind me either. I turn around to look at him.
“Good morning.” I say breathlessly as I try to catch my breath and balance, waiting for my heart to fall back into a normal tempo.
With a slight smile playing in the corner of his mouth, he says. “I am sorry I frightened you. I didn’t mean to.” Then he starts chuckling a little and it is like beautiful music to my ears, although, it’s at my expense. I am a little surprised that he is laughing at me. I cannot help but smart-off to him. My personality will allow nothing less.
“Oh, it’s okay, not a problem at all. I enjoy having the bejesus scared out of me in a graveyard where hundreds, maybe even thousands of bodies are buried. It doesn't happen quite enough in my life, in fact, that's why I come here so often! I am a thrill seeker! Though right now I might need to go to the hospital and have my heart shocked back into rhythm, but nothing major. Asher, how in the world did you walk over here and me not hear or see you? What are you, a ninja?”
I get the grand prize of a full ear-to-ear smile. It is like looking at the sun after a week of thunderstorms. It melts my insides in an instant. I have, in no way, ever seen anything more astonishing. It is a smile that could never be topped. It feels like I won the lottery to know I put that smile on his face.
He laughs an all-out full belly laugh. “No, I am not a ninja, not by a long shot, but trained through our very own U.S. Military. I guess that is why you didn’t hear me coming. It's a hard habit to break. Then again, maybe I get my jollies out of scaring cute little women in daunting places. It is a joy to see a woman shook up every now and then. I am delighted you enjoyed it as much as I did,” he says. I realize, at that moment, that I might have just met my equal as far as being a smart ass and I kind of like it. Maybe a little too much, I think.
I gaze up at him feeling quite amused and offer him to sit down on the bench beside me. “I don’t bite. Well, not too hard at least,” I tell him. He chuckles and sits down next to me.
“I am not afraid of you biting me because I might bite back. I have never had much of a desire for human flesh, but if you bite me, I might have to give it a whirl,” he says with a smile.
“I will keep that in mind and try to keep my teeth to myself.” I giggle.
“Excellent! I am glad we were able to come to that understanding and pretty fast at that,” he says sincerely, which only starts us both laughing all over again.
Once our laughing fit subsides, we sit in silence for a while. It's not one of those weird awkward silences that usually happens when two people just meet, to my surprise. It's nice, sitting here next to him enjoying the beautiful day around us even though we are in a cemetery. We both seem to be enjoying just sitting here together. There seems to be no pressure to impress each other because I don't think me or him is looking for anything romantic. So, we have no expectations of each other. I don't know why I get that impression from him, but I do, and God knows, I am not on the market at this time, so we aren't rushing to fill the emptiness with half assed attempts at meaningless conversation. It just feels good for some reason, like two old friends completely relaxed in each other's company.
He breaks the silence. “Is this your mother that is buried right here?”
“Yes, it is.” I answer.
“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking, from the dates on the head stone it seems she died pretty young.”
I tell him the entire story, from the beginning, all the way to how it broke my dad and me into a million pieces and we are still picking them up a little each day. He never once interrupts me through the entire story. He acts as if he really wants to hear what I have to say and cares. It feels like I could talk to him forever. He is an excellent listener.
He looks towards the grave he stands by and then looks away from it. He doesn't offer any explanation. I am afraid to pry, so I say nothing, giving him a few minutes to offer me the information I seek. He seems lost in his own thoughts for a bit but recovers and changes the subject. He looks over at me. “Would you like to go for a walk?”
I take him up on the offer and grab my hat and put it on. He stands up and reaches for my hand to help me up. A small wave of surprise courses through me. This man is full of surprises. What man in this day and age still treats a woman this way? He just helped me get up! I think to myself. He is a true gentleman, and you can tell it’s not put on, it's genuine, it’s in his nature, a part of who he is. I am sure somewhere there are more men like him, but I haven't met any of them in my lifetime, well, except for my dad.
We stroll along for a while just taking in the splendor of the day. My curiosity starts to get the best of me. My mind keeps asking the same question repeatedly. I know I am going to have to ask him eventually, because my curiosity will eventually get the best of me. I decide sooner is better than later and it will save my sanity because not knowing is killing me. So, I just spit it out and ask.
“Asher? Who is buried here that you come to see so often if you don't mind me asking?” He looks away from me and I immediately regret asking. It really isn't any of my business. When he looks back at me, I can see darkness and hurt has clouded his eyes, and I am not even sure I want the answer anymore. I know I should not have asked, at least not yet. When he finally answers, his voice is full of emotion.
“My cousin, we were like brothers.”
“Oh, I am sorry.” I reply feeling even more guilty for prying.
The pain in his eyes and in his voice is heart wrenching. That’s not the reply I had anticipated from him though, it being a cousin. I thought that with the sorrow I had seen him display, it had to be a child, wife, or even an actual brother I could understand, maybe even a parent. A cousin for some reason doesn't ring true to me, but I don't have any cousins that I was ever close to so maybe I just don't understand. I decide I am not going to push that issue any farther. It cuts him too deep to have to talk about it. That much is easy for me to see. We wander a little longer not talking, both taking in the statues and fountains. He seems to have gone astray into his own mind. I know I am the one that caused this setback. I am surprised when he decides to share a little more with me.
“My cousin and I …we…we shared everything. We even shared our name. When he died, it was as if a part of me died with him,” he stutters. I just shake my head in understanding.
