Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“What the fuck?”
“Right? Yeah. Kind of a freak accident. Just some dumb kid who wanted to get high off something he’d never tried before and he fucking freaked on the guy who was offering him some help.”
“Jesus,” Ethan said as I led us off the pavement onto a gravel path. “I would think a story like that would make you less likely to help people, not more.”
“Well, I guess that shows how little you know me.”
As we reached my brother’s plot, I waved at his tombstone, which read, Here Lies Brady Wright.
At one time, the sight had been unbearable, but over the years, my perception of that rock had shifted…it was the closest I could get to my brother, and for that reason alone, I appreciated it.
“It’s smaller than he deserved,” I said. “He was this outgoing, fun guy. We just couldn’t stop laughing whenever he was around the house. He’d have some story from school or work, and me, Mom, and Dad would just kind of all watch him as he acted it out.…He’d even make little voices for everyone. He was going to go to college to be an actor, and I bet he would have done well. He just had that bigger-than-life personality, and I remember always thinking he was gonna be a big star one day, and everyone would just be in awe. Then life happens, ya know? And they give you a shit piece of rock as a plaque. He fucking deserved a mausoleum, at least.”
Ethan just listened, really listened, and I felt bad for having gone off like that.
It was kind of selfish of me to monopolize the conversation with my rant about my brother, but it wasn’t something I got to talk to a lot of people about.
“Sorry about that. I know you didn’t come here to listen to some stranger’s life story. I honestly don’t know why the fuck this even turned into that. I just meant to say he was really outgoing.”
He glanced around, obviously uncomfortable. “So what do you do now that you’re here?”
Since I told him about Brady, his judgment about being in a cemetery seemed to have passed and was replaced with a sort of curiosity.
“Depends on the day. Sometimes I just sit on this rock right over here and talk to him. Sometimes I tell him about issues I’m having at work, frustrations, funny stories I’ve heard, movies I’ve seen.”
“You think he can hear you?”
“I like to think so. I mean, I certainly don’t know any more than anybody else. But you’re the psychic, so you tell me.”
I could tell he was fighting back a smile. Like he didn’t want to give into it…to me.
Something about his stubbornness, his resistance, made my dick shift in my pants…and my thoughts kept returning to that suggestion he made about a three-way.
Not the place for this.
Ethan’s gaze drifted. He looked like he was thinking about something very serious.
“Everything okay, Ethan?”
“I’m fine,” he said, shaking his head as though he was trying to jar himself back into the moment. “I just…” He paused, running a hand through his hair as though he was nervous. “I had my own experience with death. My parents when I was thirteen. Car accident. The other driver was drunk.”
He looked away as though there was more to the story, and it struck me that we both had people we loved taken away from us by someone who decided it was more important to numb themselves than to be responsible.
“I don’t typically go see them at the cemetery, that’s for sure, or think about talking to them. Between their deaths and being raised by my cold-hearted grandmother, I had a rough time there for a bit.”
Ethan didn’t seem like the kind to open up. He seemed like he lived his life keeping his guard up, keeping people at arm’s length, so I was shocked that he was willing to be so open with me. And I felt bad for bringing him to a fucking cemetery since I knew what it must’ve been stirring up within him, but also a little relieved knowing that, in some way, he shared something with me—the pain of losing people close to him.
“Not trying to get all gloom and doom about it. I’m fine,” he blurted out as though he was needing to throw the walls back up again. “I’ve made a good life for myself, despite any circumstances. They actually made me who I am today. I don’t know if things had gone differently if I would be as driven as I am or as sure of what I want out of life.”
“And what is it…that you want out of life?”
“I want to work my ass off, doing what I love, and I want to be able to have fun while I’m busting my butt.”