Craig wasn't the only one who came here. Joey sat on the ground in front of Julia's gravestone. He felt closer to her here, knowing that she was buried here. It was the sacred space. At night, his breath pluming out in front of him, he could almost feel her.
"Julia," he thought/said, caressing the top of the stone with one finger. He leaned his head against it, feeling the cold stone stealing his warmth. Caitlin was at home with Angie. Craig had run away.
Craig ran away. This was twice in one year. He had been hospitalized, not six months ago and diagnosed bipolar. He had tried to tell Caitlin that, tried to make her see that Craig could not be thousands of miles and an ocean away from him. Caitlin didn't see it all. She spent long hours at her job. She spent nights and weekends away on special assignments. She wasn't there when Craig refused to take his medication and only did so when threatened with being put into the hospital again. She wasn't there when he stayed up all night and talked more than he thought it possible for a human being to talk. She wasn't there when he rambled on about Albert and what Albert had done to him. He'd never heard half of the stories until this bipolar thing, and then he didn't know what to believe. The psychiatrists told him bipolars could be delusional and grandiose.
She wasn't there and she didn't know that Craig was still sick, still fragile, still in need of almost constant supervision. And she filled his head with all these ways to get to England and see Ashley this summer. Joey sighed, touched the letters of his wife's name. He was conscious of the fact that he would be buried here, too.
"Julia, what do I do?" he said, his voice a husky whisper, the white plume of his words making them something solid, something that could reach her where she was. He wished for her to be here, to be alive, to help him deal with her troubling son.
He knew in his heart that Craig trusted him, that he was probably the only person he trusted right now. Ashley had blown it. Caitlin didn't get it. Angie was too young. His friends were too young to help him, to understand half of what he'd experienced. He was it, and he felt the weight of that like stones over his heart.
He listened with something beyond his ears, trying to hear Julia's response. He could feel her. She was near him now, she often was. Sometimes she seemed to stand beside him. Other times it was just this sense of her spreading over him.
"I need you," The tears spilled down his cheeks. He'd become very good at crying. Crying healed. It let something loosen that had tightened up to the breaking point. He loved Craig as though he were his very own. He saw so much of Julia in him. But this year was threatening to be too much. Running away, being violent, being out of control, closing him out, he didn't know how to handle it.
"Is he okay?" Silence. Nothing. He couldn't feel her anymore. He hoped she was with Craig. He needed her more right now. He closed his eyes and tried not to see all the terrible things that could be happening. Cold and hunger and being taken advantage of and being hurt. Craig was at the mercy of this city, this world that liked to trample on things, on people. He was lost. Joey closed his eyes and reached out a steadying hand for the thick stone.
He stood up, brushed the dirt from his knees. It had grown colder. The tip of his nose was cold, his fingertips were cold. He felt Julia return to him, a rush of warmth. He could almost smell the light lilac perfume she used to wear. It would be okay. Somehow. Someway. He felt it, knew it as a truth.
He left the place he would be buried, and went back to the world. He'd wait and he would be patient. He knew things took their own time. He'd fight the anxious twisty feeling, the foreboding.
Everyone was sleeping in his house, he knew this before he turned the knob. Where was Craig sleeping tonight? The thought made him shudder. Somewhere safe, maybe? Please?