He drives recklessly, running red lights, veering in and out of lanes. Never once noticing where he was going until he arrives there. Parks the car at the gates and then gets out and walks.
There's a few others there, in the cemetery. Placing flowers on headstones, comforting a loved one. He had no one there with him. No one but me.
Bosco approaches my grave cautiously, as though something is about to jump out and bite his legs. His face contorts as he tries to control his raging emotions. "Faith," he whispers. He sits down beside the headstone, crossing his legs like an obedient school child. "Hi Faith."
Hi Bos. You didn't have to come all the way here to talk to me. He runs a hand over his face and then gently touches the cold stone. His finger traces my name. Date of birth and date of death.
"They were gonna fire me." he says. His finger lingers over my name. Faith. "Swersky told me to see a shrink. Can you believe that?"
He pulls his finger away and crosses his arms. Stares up at the sky, it's grey. Gloomy, threatening rain. "Said there'd been some complaints made about me. I don't need no shrink Faith."
Bosco frowns. His lower eyelid twitches a bit and he paws at it angrily. "I was cryin' for you today Faith. Again. In the damn bathroom stall."
Yes, I saw you. I was there Bosco.
"Sorry I didn't bring you any flowers." he says softly. Looking at my headstone again. "I will next time. What kind do you want?"
Doesn't matter Bos. I'll like whatever you bring me. He shifts slightly, uncrosses his legs. They're stretched out in front of him now. "Your family hates me."
That's not true. Give them time.
"Charlie never wants to see me again. I told him how I didn't try and help you Faith. I keep replaying it in my head, dammit. Wonderin' if maybe if I'd helped you, stopped the bleedin'. Would you still be here?"
No, I was gone Bosco. He shot me in the head. There was nothing you could have done. Stop beatin' yourself up.
"I ran after that guy Faith. I didn't even look at you, lyin' there. On that sidewalk. I went back there you know. Never told anyone before. I went back there and your blood was stainin' the cement."
Damn you Bosco. I must have missed that, I didn't know he'd ever been back there. You shouldn't have gone. You didn't need to see that.
He wipes a tear from his face and lightly touches my headstone again. His finger traces Faith repeatedly. As though he's trying desperately to touch me. Bosco was never the touchy feely type. We rarely hugged and now here he is, tryin' to reach out to me.
I touch his arm and he shivers. Draws his jacket closer around himself. "Wind's picked up." he mumbles. "You always liked the wind, didn't you Faith?"
I would give anything to feel the wind through my hair again. Feel it nipping at my face, rushing through my ears.
"I should've helped you Faith. And I'm sorry."
Bosco leans against my headstone. Rests his shoulder on it. I touch his face, run my fingers over his cheekbones. Brush them against his lips. "That you Faith?" he mumbles. His eyes are closed. As though he's afraid to open them, afraid of what he might see.
Yeah, it's me Bos. I know you can feel me.
His eyelids open just a crack. His blue eyes peer out, searching for me. "I can't see you." he whispers.
"What the hell are you doin' here?" Bosco looks up in surprise at the sound of a loud familiar voice. I look up too and see my husband standing there.
"I asked you a question Bosco, what are you doin' here?"
"Nothin'." Bosco mumbles and picks himself up from the ground.
Fred stares at him. Noting the red rimmed eyes. The dark circles. The haunted appearance. "You don't look so good." he comments.
"I don't feel so good." Bosco replies. "Not that it's anything to you."
Fred looks impassive for a moment. The muscles in his jaw twitch. "Charlie told me what happened at school."
"Good for him. Told you what an asshole I was?"
"Something along those lines. Didn't use those exact words though."
Fred's holding a bouquet in his hands. Red roses, a dozen of them. He lays them down beside my headstone and looks at Bosco disapprovingly. "You didn't bring her flowers."
"I..." Bosco stutters. "I didn't know what kind she liked."
Fred shrugs. "Doesn't matter. Not like she'll see them anyway."
Fred's changed since my death. He's become the man I once knew. Not the man I'd known since his heart attack.
"What happened to all that crap about Heaven?" Bosco asks. "Faith probably went there. Watching down on all us mortal souls now. Surely God wouldn't have sent her to Hell."
"God wouldn't have taken her away from us in the first place."
Bosco looks stunned. "What happened to all that religious shit you used to preach? Huh Fred?"
"I told you, God wouldn't have taken her away from us in the first place." Fred repeats himself. For his own benefit and for Bosco's.
Bosco's silent for a moment. Kicks at the grass beneath his feet. He manages to dislodge a clump of earth and looks satisfied with himself. As though he's accomplished some fantastic feat. "You're right." he says finally. "God wouldn't have done that."
Fred also looks satisfied, then his features darken. "I don't want you comin' near my son again. I want you out of his life. Stay away from my family."
Bosco shrugs his shoulders as though he doesn't care. I'm sure he's torn up inside though. "Fine. I don't want to see them or you again."
Fred nods his head. Bosco nods his. They nod heads for a while before Bosco says, "I'm going now."
"Why aren't you at work?" Fred asks, finally noticing the time.
"I quit." Bosco says matter of factly.
"Oh." Fred says. He's shocked, unsure of how to react. "Why'd you do that?"
"Some bullshit complaints about my behaviour." Bosco replies. "Easier to quit than be fired."
Fred bends over and rearranges the flowers on my grave. Bosco takes this as his cue to leave and he trots across the field. Careful not to trod upon anyone's grave.
He sits in his car. Staring at the world passing by in his rearview mirror. He blinks a few times and then starts the engine. Backs out into traffic without even looking.
"Shut the hell up." Bosco mutters as the driver who had to slam on his brakes, lays on the horn. He takes off down the road, his foot never leaving the gas pedal. He's careless, throwing his own life to wind. Handing his soul over to the Devil.
Stop driving Bos. Pull over and let yourself breathe. You need to calm down. I reach my hand out and lay it gently on his cheek. His muscles are taught, revealing the stress he's under.
A car pulls out in front of him. The other driver didn't look, didn't make sure the road was clear. Bosco applies the brakes, shifts gears, but it doesn't do any good.
Squealing tires. Smashing glass. Then silence. The other driver is dead. Killed on impact. In the distance I hear sirens and I beg them to hurry.
There's a few others there, in the cemetery. Placing flowers on headstones, comforting a loved one. He had no one there with him. No one but me.
Bosco approaches my grave cautiously, as though something is about to jump out and bite his legs. His face contorts as he tries to control his raging emotions. "Faith," he whispers. He sits down beside the headstone, crossing his legs like an obedient school child. "Hi Faith."
Hi Bos. You didn't have to come all the way here to talk to me. He runs a hand over his face and then gently touches the cold stone. His finger traces my name. Date of birth and date of death.
"They were gonna fire me." he says. His finger lingers over my name. Faith. "Swersky told me to see a shrink. Can you believe that?"
He pulls his finger away and crosses his arms. Stares up at the sky, it's grey. Gloomy, threatening rain. "Said there'd been some complaints made about me. I don't need no shrink Faith."
Bosco frowns. His lower eyelid twitches a bit and he paws at it angrily. "I was cryin' for you today Faith. Again. In the damn bathroom stall."
Yes, I saw you. I was there Bosco.
"Sorry I didn't bring you any flowers." he says softly. Looking at my headstone again. "I will next time. What kind do you want?"
Doesn't matter Bos. I'll like whatever you bring me. He shifts slightly, uncrosses his legs. They're stretched out in front of him now. "Your family hates me."
That's not true. Give them time.
"Charlie never wants to see me again. I told him how I didn't try and help you Faith. I keep replaying it in my head, dammit. Wonderin' if maybe if I'd helped you, stopped the bleedin'. Would you still be here?"
No, I was gone Bosco. He shot me in the head. There was nothing you could have done. Stop beatin' yourself up.
"I ran after that guy Faith. I didn't even look at you, lyin' there. On that sidewalk. I went back there you know. Never told anyone before. I went back there and your blood was stainin' the cement."
Damn you Bosco. I must have missed that, I didn't know he'd ever been back there. You shouldn't have gone. You didn't need to see that.
He wipes a tear from his face and lightly touches my headstone again. His finger traces Faith repeatedly. As though he's trying desperately to touch me. Bosco was never the touchy feely type. We rarely hugged and now here he is, tryin' to reach out to me.
I touch his arm and he shivers. Draws his jacket closer around himself. "Wind's picked up." he mumbles. "You always liked the wind, didn't you Faith?"
I would give anything to feel the wind through my hair again. Feel it nipping at my face, rushing through my ears.
"I should've helped you Faith. And I'm sorry."
Bosco leans against my headstone. Rests his shoulder on it. I touch his face, run my fingers over his cheekbones. Brush them against his lips. "That you Faith?" he mumbles. His eyes are closed. As though he's afraid to open them, afraid of what he might see.
Yeah, it's me Bos. I know you can feel me.
His eyelids open just a crack. His blue eyes peer out, searching for me. "I can't see you." he whispers.
"What the hell are you doin' here?" Bosco looks up in surprise at the sound of a loud familiar voice. I look up too and see my husband standing there.
"I asked you a question Bosco, what are you doin' here?"
"Nothin'." Bosco mumbles and picks himself up from the ground.
Fred stares at him. Noting the red rimmed eyes. The dark circles. The haunted appearance. "You don't look so good." he comments.
"I don't feel so good." Bosco replies. "Not that it's anything to you."
Fred looks impassive for a moment. The muscles in his jaw twitch. "Charlie told me what happened at school."
"Good for him. Told you what an asshole I was?"
"Something along those lines. Didn't use those exact words though."
Fred's holding a bouquet in his hands. Red roses, a dozen of them. He lays them down beside my headstone and looks at Bosco disapprovingly. "You didn't bring her flowers."
"I..." Bosco stutters. "I didn't know what kind she liked."
Fred shrugs. "Doesn't matter. Not like she'll see them anyway."
Fred's changed since my death. He's become the man I once knew. Not the man I'd known since his heart attack.
"What happened to all that crap about Heaven?" Bosco asks. "Faith probably went there. Watching down on all us mortal souls now. Surely God wouldn't have sent her to Hell."
"God wouldn't have taken her away from us in the first place."
Bosco looks stunned. "What happened to all that religious shit you used to preach? Huh Fred?"
"I told you, God wouldn't have taken her away from us in the first place." Fred repeats himself. For his own benefit and for Bosco's.
Bosco's silent for a moment. Kicks at the grass beneath his feet. He manages to dislodge a clump of earth and looks satisfied with himself. As though he's accomplished some fantastic feat. "You're right." he says finally. "God wouldn't have done that."
Fred also looks satisfied, then his features darken. "I don't want you comin' near my son again. I want you out of his life. Stay away from my family."
Bosco shrugs his shoulders as though he doesn't care. I'm sure he's torn up inside though. "Fine. I don't want to see them or you again."
Fred nods his head. Bosco nods his. They nod heads for a while before Bosco says, "I'm going now."
"Why aren't you at work?" Fred asks, finally noticing the time.
"I quit." Bosco says matter of factly.
"Oh." Fred says. He's shocked, unsure of how to react. "Why'd you do that?"
"Some bullshit complaints about my behaviour." Bosco replies. "Easier to quit than be fired."
Fred bends over and rearranges the flowers on my grave. Bosco takes this as his cue to leave and he trots across the field. Careful not to trod upon anyone's grave.
He sits in his car. Staring at the world passing by in his rearview mirror. He blinks a few times and then starts the engine. Backs out into traffic without even looking.
"Shut the hell up." Bosco mutters as the driver who had to slam on his brakes, lays on the horn. He takes off down the road, his foot never leaving the gas pedal. He's careless, throwing his own life to wind. Handing his soul over to the Devil.
Stop driving Bos. Pull over and let yourself breathe. You need to calm down. I reach my hand out and lay it gently on his cheek. His muscles are taught, revealing the stress he's under.
A car pulls out in front of him. The other driver didn't look, didn't make sure the road was clear. Bosco applies the brakes, shifts gears, but it doesn't do any good.
Squealing tires. Smashing glass. Then silence. The other driver is dead. Killed on impact. In the distance I hear sirens and I beg them to hurry.
