“Things don’t seem fair most of the time.” I sigh.nbsp;
“No, they don’t.”
I could say something about how everything happens for a reason and life goes on, but Jasper knows that already and, in this moment, he needs to feel sad and angry so I let him have that. It’s the best gift I can give him.
He looks over at me suddenly, a strange look in his eyes. “Can I take you somewhere?”
“Right now?”
“Yeah.”
“But … don’t you want s’mores?” I ask, confused
He shakes his head. “Not anymore.”
“Um … yeah, okay.”
He stands and holds out his hands to help me up. I pick up our water bottles from the sand, not wanting them to get left behind.
I spot Meredith and run over to say goodbye. “If you need a ride home, call me,” I whisper in her ear.
She nods and says thanks before beginning to dance once more.
Jasper is waiting for me and the two of us make the trek back to the Jeep.
I don’t ask him where we’re going as he drives a little way out of the main city of Santa Monica. I’m not afraid, either. Jasper has never done anything that would make me not trust him. I seem to understand that right now he doesn’t need to talk.
When he pulls up to a quiet street and parks against the curb I look across and know the reason for everything now.
The cemetery is surrounded by tall wrought iron gates done in what I’d assume is a gothic style. They’re imposing but quite beautiful.
Jasper hops out and I follow his lead, meeting him at the front of the Jeep. Taking my hand, we cross the quiet street and stop in front of the gates.
He takes an audible breath and looks at me before pushing open the gate. It squeaks loudly, an ominous echo through the otherwise quiet street.
“It’s this way,” he says, guiding me to the right.
The cemetery is large and it takes us a couple of minutes of walking before he begins to slow.
He stops in front of a simple headstone.
Thomas James Werthnbsp;
October 11th, 2000 – May 22nd, 2018nbsp;
Beloved son and brother.nbsp;
I look at Jasper and find him working his jaw back and forth.nbsp;
“You can let it out,” I tell him. “Don’t hold it in. That only makes it worse.”
His lower lip begins to tremble. “Before I met you I would’ve traded places with him in an instant. Now, sometimes I hate myself for being grateful that I am alive and I got the chance to meet you.”
“You shouldn’t feel that way. You can’t change what happened any more than I can change my situation.”
“You’re right.” He nods, rubbing a tear from his cheek. “Still, he’s not here and I am, and that hardly seems fair.”
He lets out a scream that’s full of anger and pure mourning before dropping to his knees.