My father gives me a stern look. “I expect you home in an hour.”
I nod. He walks to the car and drives off.
A few people approach me, giving me their condolences.
I just stand, staring at my mother’s gravestone like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Reading my mother’s name, dates of birth and death, and the words ‘Beloved mother and wife’ over and over to avoid what comes next.
Liesel doesn’t speak. She just takes my hand like she did in the house three days ago when I woke to find my mother had overdosed on fentanyl.
I already know that isn’t true. My father killed her. He slipped her the extra pills. He wanted her gone, so he got rid of her.
And then I feel something thorny being pushed in my other hand. I look down and see that Liesel has shoved a single rose-like flower into my hand.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t afford more, but I think your mom would have liked it,” she says.
I stare at the flower, similar to a rose but not. It’s pretty—my mother would have liked it.
I look up at my mother’s grave and then all the others around it. The surrounding graves have flowers. My mother’s is bare.
The bastard didn’t even spend money on flowers!
I feel the tear slipping down my cheek. I’ll cry waterfalls later when I’m alone in the house. Right now, the single tear is enough.
I step forward, and Liesel steps right with me. Together we place the single flower at the base of my mother’s grave.
“Goodbye, Mom,” I whisper, keeping my tears and pain inside the best that I can.
Liesel pulls me into a hug. She isn’t one for emotion. She’s not a hugger, but in this moment, she is.
The embrace only makes me sob harder until there is snot running down my face and onto the shoulder of her black dress.
“I’m sorry.” I let go of her as I suck the snot back in and try to compose myself. There are more important things to worry about than the loss of my mother right now.
Liesel’s eyes flick right then left over my face. “What is it?”
How does she always know when something is wrong with me?
“We’re moving,” I spit out before I lose my nerve.
Her mouth falls, and tears spring into her eyes for the first time.
“But…your mom just died.”
“Dad’s remarrying some rich woman.”
“Oh.”
I don’t have to tell Liesel what that means. I don’t have to tell her that my father killed my mother. She can put the pieces together as easily as I did.
“He’ll pay for this. Someday, he’ll pay,” Liesel says, her voice lower and grittier than before.
I nod, agreeing. One day my father will suffer for all of his sins—none worse than killing my mother.
Right now, I don’t need to worry about my father though.
“Come on, we don’t have much time.” I grab Liesel’s hand again and drag her over to the empty field behind the church.
“What are we doing?”