CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Chad

Three Months Ago

I swiped Spanish moss from David's headstone, looking up at a huge southern live oak tree that famously sheds the stuff all over the south.

"He left me," I spoke, outlining the letters of David's name on the granite marker. "I sort of thought he was the one. I guess I was wrong, David."

I noticed the gravesite next to my dead boyfriend's eternal resting place had recently been disturbed. The dual headstone had one name left where the death date had not been chiseled yet, but the rectangular spot of freshly turned soil showed that the date was just a formality at this point.

I thought of the family and how their grief must be recent. David had drowned three years before, but I still visited him on important days. Today would have been his thirty-fifth birthday. I noticed the white daisies that his sister most likely had left earlier. Daisies had been his favorite flower and were the reason he had them on every table in his sports bar. I'd always found it strange as well as refreshing that he had flowers in a sports bar.

I met David when he hired me part-time as a server in his restaurant. I was underage at nineteen so I couldn't serve alcohol, but he gave me the job anyway, the loophole being that I could take the drink order—I just couldn't bring it to the customer's table. It became apparent a month later why he'd hired me. He was as smitten with me as I was with him.

"Clint didn't want to be gay," I began, as usual, having a full conversation with him when I visited.

Funny thing about David and his death was that I never once sensed that he spoke to me from the afterlife. Of course, that didn't stop me from keeping him up to date on my life.

"It would have been nice to have known that detail beforehand, dontcha think?" I added.

The weather in upstate South Carolina was cool in the spring, and the city of Columbia was no different. I missed the beaches of home as well as Mom and Dad. My graduation was coming up in June and I knew I needed a change of scenery. As much as I needed to move away after four years, I'd miss the small apartment that I'd rented every year since freshman year.

During my relationship with David, I spent most nights at his house, which was closer to his business. But after he passed, and when I met Clint, I moved back to the apartment for me to finish my degree while Clint began his.

The tiny apartment became our little home, and I loved nesting in it with Clint, but after he left, living there had become difficult. I was lonely and everywhere I looked reminded me of him or David. The haunting memories had begun to overwhelm the good ones.

"Maybe I'll move home," I said, tugging at weeds at the base of the monument.

"You know, start again," I added. David was silent. David was always silent. "What do you think?"

I noticed an earthworm had appeared from where I'd pulled a large clump of weeds. I watched as it wiggled, trying to find shelter from the certain death of sun exposure. Slowly and with what appeared to be great effort, the worm inched along.

"Where are you going?" I whispered, fixated on the tiny creature. Like David, the worm remained silent.

A feeling overcame me as I watched the worm. Surprisingly, in the brief time that I had looked away, based on its size, the worm had gone quite a distance on its journey. He steadily, and with purpose, made his way after I had so rudely upended his life, destroying his shelter.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Unlike the worm, I didn't miss my home, my apartment. My home had also been turned upside down by an event out of my control, and it didn't feel like a home anymore. Can a home feel like a home when love leaves?

"I'm moving, David. As soon as I can, I'm moving," I whispered, a decision finally being made by me since Clint still hadn't returned. Still hadn't wanted to try again.

I tapped my hand on the headstone. "Look for Jack, will you? Tell him to check in on me."

Standing, I stared down at David's grave with tears in my eyes. My heart hurt with questions. I wondered if he was as lonely as I was. Was he alone where he was? Did he sense me being there? I hoped he did.

"I'll be back, promise."

I could do three more months in my little apartment. I'd take things a day at a time until the sadness that haunted me began fading. I knew that the hurt would eventually stop because love has a way of remembering good things once our hearts catch up with our minds.