Backing off, and offended, she walks toward the cars and leaves us alone. I don’t get a chance to have a proper look at her, but she’s leggy with brown curly hair. Drew’s type. No need to get jealous, especially at a time like this.
It’s just us, alone. I’m stumped on how to talk to him, so I continue to be there quietly allowing the chirping birds to sing.
“I’m sorry, Drew,” I cry.
He squeezes my hand again tightly trying to comfort me.
“You know what’s ironic?” he says, without looking my way. “When I found him Cat’s in the Cradle was playing on the radio. I mean… is that fucked up?” A sinister laugh follows scaring me a little as we sit alone in the cemetery.
“Drew,” I whisper, composing myself enough to be a good friend. “Maybe it was his time.”
“He was only fifty-five. It’s too soon,” he adds, bitterly. “He begged me to visit, but I’d been so caught up with work. There was always an excuse.”
“You didn’t intentionally not visit him, Drew,” I tell him.
“You’re skinny.”
I’m confused by the change of topic. “Excuse me?”
“You’re skinny, like stick-skinny. Why?”
Do I answer him? This is odd.
“Uh, the heat in Dubai is like being in a sauna every day with like a thousand Arab men and women. All dressed, of course.”
He doesn’t say anything else, letting out a breath. “Are you coming to this lunch thing? I mean, what’s the point? Why the fuck do we need to celebrate burying my dad?”
“Maybe look at it as celebrating his life,” I say, smiling.
“Let’s go somewhere else. Just you and me.”
“Uh sure, but what about everyone else?”
“Fuck everyone else.” He laughs, removing a flask from his jacket and taking a long swig.
“Okay, but how about you hand me the flask? Where do you want to go?”
He pulls my hand along to his car, not turning around to say goodbye to his dad again.
From where I’m standing, I can smell the potent scotch on his breath. “How about I drive?”
He tosses me the keys. I climb into the car and put the keys in the ignition. “Where do you want to go?”
“Just follow my lead.”
We drive until he tells me to stop.
It’s beautiful—a small piece of parkland that overlooks the ocean. We sit on a small rock, wedged between two larger rocks. It’s pretty secluded, only an old couple walking their dogs are nearby.
“I come here a lot just to think.”
“It’s beautiful.” I smile.
“I bet you don’t have views like this in Dubai.”
“No.” I laugh. “Skyscrapers and desert.”
Staring at the ocean, the calming blue water and salty sea air ease my worries. And maybe it’s not just where we are, but who I’m with.