Beautiful Graves

by L.J. Shen

“You design headstones, not kill babies for a living.” His eyes sparkle with amusement. “But I’m sure there’s a story behind it.” “When I was, like, eight, my cousin Shauna died in a boating accident. She was only fifteen. My mom wanted me to attend the funeral, but Dad thought I was too young. There was a lot of back-and-forth between them. In the end, they left it for me to decide. I wanted to go. Shauna and I had been close. It was the first time I’d visited a cemetery. I remember looking around and thinking, All these headstones look the same. How is that possible? We’re so different from each other when we’re alive. Why are our personalities reduced to nothing when we’re dead? “A few months later, Mom and I went back to freshen up the flowers on her grave. Shauna had the most beautiful gravestone. It was so her it took my breath away. Her mom splurged on a real piece of art. A granite angel embracing a heart. It made me think. Personalized gravestones are a great way to pay your last respects to someone, you know? We live in a world where everything is customized to us: our clothes, our mattresses, our cars. Why not design something that’s unique? Something that represents the person who was laid to rest?”

“Where were we?” I ask. “Spain,” Joe provides. “And on the subject of condoms, specifically.” “It’s not too late to use one.” I lick my lips. “A condom, I mean.” “Hmm.” He leans back, bracing on his forearms. He is kind of ripped. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I bite down on my lower lip. His throat bobs. “Yeah. And there’s plenty of water to fill the condom with.” Before I have a chance to laugh, he leans forward and kisses me.

“This is stupid!” he yells, opening his arms, laughing incredulously. “I don’t want to say goodbye. We don’t have to.” “You’re staying.” The wind carries my voice like it’s a ribbon. My heart feels like it wants to rip my chest open and jump its way to him. “You’re going,” he replies softly, as if to say, No one is to blame. It’s all just crappy luck. “I don’t want to go,” I admit. “I don’t really want to stay.” He ducks his head, hiding what’s in his eyes, and I wish I could take a picture of him like that, all beautiful and raw and mine on the beach. My wilted sunflower. “I’ll give you my number?” I offer. He looks back up and grins. “I’ll call.” “Hey, Joe.” “Yes, Ever?” “What’s your favorite English invention of all time? Don’t say Emilia Clarke.” He laughs. I’m going to miss this laugh so much. “The World Wide Web, also known as the internet. Tim Berners-Lee is the bomb dot-com. Yours?” “The chocolate bar,” I say without hesitation.

“After Christmas . . . I don’t know what happened. Or, I’m not sure how it happened. But suddenly, for the first time in six years, I started—” “Writing,” I finish the sentence for him. His eyes widen slightly, but he keeps himself in check. It is beneath the great Joe Graves to show emotions. I nod, feeling even more depressed than I was before. “I started sketching after I saw you. For the first time, also.”

“This is exactly why we can’t hang out. You know what happens to sparks?” “They turn into flames.” Resigned, he hangs his head between his shoulders, shaking it. “You feel it, too, huh?” “Bone deep,” I admit.

“You hurt yourself too. You chose mainstream.” His words hit me. I remember them from all those years ago. Mainstream people aren’t revolutionary. Nothing good ever comes out of them. Average equals comfort. But I need comfort. I need safe. “You stopped being a choice the day I kissed your brother,” I rasp. “We can’t do this to him, and you know that.”

“I loved you, Ever Lawson. But I want you to know, you’re the worst thing that’s ever fucking happened to me.”

“Ever. Ever. Ever.” Joe’s voice is husky, like he’s been screaming. The lack of his casual indifference throws me into the depths of hysteria. “It happened about half an hour ago. He crossed the street back from Walgreens. Got hit by a truck.” “Oh my God!” I yelp. “What happened? Was the driver drunk?”

“I didn’t,” I hiccup, offering her my hand. “I’m Everlynne.” “Everlynne . . . ?” She wants credentials. Doesn’t take my offered hand. “His fiancée.” I turn my empty hand just so, revealing a sparkling diamond ring. “His fiancée?” she repeats. “Yes.” “Interesting.” “Why?” Dr. Sarah doesn’t look so friendly anymore. “Because I’m his girlfriend.”

Joe’s eyes travel to me. He is checking the temperature. Trying to gauge how angry I am. Because it is easy—and because he deserves it—as soon as he reaches for me, to give me a hug, I slap him. This time I get his left cheek. Two slaps in one day is some kind of record, I’m sure. He rubs at his cheek. “I deserve that.” “You bastard,” I hiss.

“In my book, if you’re stupid enough to cheat on two perfectly good women, you’re not good enough for either of them.” “Why didn’t you talk sense into him?”

I’m standing in front of the driver’s side of his car. The door is wide open. I look back at the church. People are starting to trickle out. “My dad and my brother are there.” “They’ll understand,” he says with conviction. “Where to?” I ask, stunned. “My apartment.” “I don’t trust myself with you.” God, how awful am I that I admit this out loud to the brother of the man I was supposed to marry while he is being buried? Does human selfishness know any bounds?

Joe hangs his head down. His signature wilted-flower move. “I hate this.” Fresh tears sting my eyes. “Saying goodbye again?” I nod. How many times can he and I lose each other? “Hug me?” I shrug. “Too painful. Have a good life, Ever.” Joe slams his door shut behind him, in the car. He drives away, taking whatever was left of my happiness with him.

I’m not always in my bed. Sometimes I get up to answer the DoorDash delivery person, as indicated from the mountains of takeout dishes littered around me. I sometimes go to the bathroom. I feed and water Loki religiously. But mostly, I’m in my bed. The day after the funeral, I quit both my jobs without notice. Jenine, my boss, seemed understanding. Then again, the option not to be understanding was taken away from her. I lost my fiancé. I deserve a free pass. Nothing really anchors me to Salem anymore. I don’t have a job, or friends, or an affiliation with this place. Salem is soaked with Dom’s presence. The city, in itself, is an open wound for me. Case in point—I don’t leave the house anymore.

“This is for falling in love with the right girl at the wrong time, and still fucking paying for it,” he says quietly, looking at me.

“Let’s cut a deal.” I look at him expectantly. “I’ll give you alcohol if you have a shower.” I realize I’m wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that haven’t been washed in a month. I probably smell. I still brush my teeth regularly, but my body hasn’t met a deodorant or body lotion in three weeks. And, in what I think is an encouraging sign, I finally have the awareness to feel embarrassed about it. “You mean with soap and everything?” I pout, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Here we are,” I echo. For a moment, we just drink each other in. He snaps out of it first. “Time to hop into the shower, Stinky Face. I’ll get you a towel.”

“Ever?” He stops, pulling away from me as he looks into my eyes seriously. “Yes?” I ask, panting. “This is very important.” “Okay.” “Can I fuck you?” “Yes,” I say, relieved. I grab his face and kiss him. “Yes, please. Please fuck me.”

“It’s hard to forgive people. Including yourself.” “I’ll tell you what your mother always told me. It’s a good lesson. ‘Be thankful to those who helped you when you were down, and be thankful to those who didn’t. The former are worth keeping, and the latter helped you realize it.’” I break into tears for the millionth time this week, burying my face in my hands. Dad keeps talking. “No. Shush. Don’t feel bad. Even if you thought we were angry, you should’ve stayed. You should’ve fought for this family. Renn and I have been working on trying to get back to what we were for six years now, and we could’ve used the extra pair of hands.”

“I would’ve told you the truth. That Joe is your forever. For Ever,

“Gee, dude. Where’s the trust?” “At the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, along with your old cell?” he suggests cordially. Touché. “We don’t have the best track record.”

“I’m not in denial. I know damn well I’m in love with the bastard!” I punch the steering wheel, accidentally beeping at the car in front of me. The driver jerks forward automatically before realizing the light is still red. Oops.

“I’m scared to make a choice.” My voice cracks as I round the car into my neighborhood. “You know what’s scarier?” she asks. “Not making one at all.”

“The room’s never going to recover from your visit. You have a talent for ruining everything you touch.” “Same could be said about you,” he deadpans. “Have a seat.”

“I’m his evil twin, and he is currently tied up and gagged in the basement,” he answers without missing a beat. “Oh, well.” I shrug. “What doesn’t kill you . . .” He laughs. “Figured we’re not eighteen anymore. Might as well act our age.”

“Let’s not. Normal is so boring,” I reply. He hands me one of the glasses. It’s a white wine. It smells fruity and oaky. I try the whole swirling and sniffing it thing but start cackling halfway through. So does Joe. Our eyes meet. “Normal is boring,” he muses. “You’re right. Let’s never be pretentious old fucks.” I nod. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

He is still standing up. He is looking around the room, like there’s something he wants to show me but doesn’t know how to broach the subject. “Ever?” he asks. “That’s my name.” “I finished the book.” “You . . . what?” He crouches down to my eye level. His eyes are twinkling. “It’s done. I wrote The End. I even used a different font, to be fancy and shit.”

“You have Nora,” Joe points out, stabbing his french fry in an ocean of ketchup and mayo. “And you have me.” I smile sadly. “No offense, but I’m not moving across the country to hear about your random hookups and your day loading and unloading crates at the docks.”

“Oh, fuck it.” He tosses his arms in the air. “Because I’m in love with you, Ever Lawson. I don’t like you. I love you. Never stopped loving you. Not for one nanosecond.”

“Okay. Good. This is good. So you love me and I love you. Case closed. Move back to Massachusetts, and we’ll pick up where we left off in Spain. It doesn’t have to be complicated,” he says.

“Should’ve done what?” I put my hand over his so he can’t pull it away from my cheek. “Should’ve just walked to you and kissed the shit out of you the day before Christmas. It was my knee-jerk reaction when I saw your face again. I chose to act civilized. In retrospect—fuck civilization.”

“Try not to get engaged in the few days you’re spending there!” Renn calls to my back as I jog toward the revolving door. “Again.” I flip him the bird and disappear inside the airport.

“All right.” I run a finger over his torso, mustering a fake smile. “I’ll think about what to write on the invitation.” I cup his erection. It’s swollen and full in my hand. But when I try to kiss his neck, he withdraws with a cold smile. “You do that, Ever. I’ll give you some time to write it down.” He wrestles a tee onto his body, grabs his keys, and leaves.

“His late brother’s fiancé.” I pause. “Oh! And his ex-girlfriend.” I stop and frown. “Hopefully, his current girlfriend too. If things go right for me.”

“Because I love you. Because I don’t want to lose you again. Not ever again. I read about that Curt Richter experiment on my way here,” I tell him. “And I know all about the rats. The wild rats fought for their survival. They were savages. They didn’t give up. You’re my rat, Joe. I want you to be my rat. I promise not to land you in deep water ever again. From now on we’ll swim together.” I’m searching his face. All I care about is his reaction, not the massive public declaration I’ve just made. He blinks a few times, taking me in. He is still by the forklift. A good twenty feet away from me, at least. “How is this time different from all the others?” he insists. “How do I know you won’t walk away tomorrow? Or the day after? Or in a month? I can’t do this anymore, Ever. I can’t put my heart in your slippery hands.” “They’re no longer slippery!” I half beg, throwing my arms upward. “I swear. Sturdy as a surgeon’s. My only hang-up wasn’t about loving you—there was never any doubt in my mind that I loved you. It was about sparing you from the heartache of being with me. I thought I was cursed or something and didn’t want you to . . . I don’t know, I didn’t want anything happening to you, I guess. Like Mom and Dom.” Every single person staring at us looks lost, entertained, and a little disturbed on Joe’s behalf. Joe, himself, looks mostly exhausted. “Ever, you’ve put me through hell.” “I know.” “And you chose my brother over me.”

“No. No, I didn’t. I never would have moved forward with the wedding; I can see that now. I know this in my bones, Joe. It was always you. Always.” “You’ve been flaky, indecisive, and torn about me from the get-go.” “Whoa.” I lift my hands up in the air. “That part’s not true. I’ve always loved you. I was just not always sure that love was enough to get over our obstacles. But I am now. I’m sure.” “One hundred percent?” he asks. “One hundred and ten,” I assure him.

“All of it. I should’ve always chosen you. I should’ve never turned my back on you. Even when Mom died.” “Good thing I know how you can make it up to me.” He picks me up by the backs of my thighs, laces my legs around his waist, and carries me away from the wharf.

“The past two decades have been a crazy ride from start to finish. A lot has happened. But one thing stayed through it all. It made it possible, even when things seemed impossible. And that thing is called hope. Hope made me realize something important. The one thing that makes a person rich is not their money, or their talent, or even their connections. It is their hope. Where there is hope, there is life. And where there is life, anything is possible. I owe my hope to one special person. She is here today, and I have a feeling she’ll be here for a very long time. Which is good, because no one knows what tomorrow will bring. All I know is that tomorrow, life is going to change. Not only for me. For Ever.”

“Hey, Mom.” I perch on a patch of grass by her grave. “Any idea where Joe is?” Even when she doesn’t answer, I can feel her presence. I shake my head, rolling my eyes. “No, we didn’t have a fight. He asked me to come here. What the heck?” I pull out my phone to call him. I’m swiping the screen when I hear a voice behind me. “Your turn.”

“Be my forever, Ever. Be my wife. The mother of my children. The person I file joint taxes with. I want it all. The good and the bad. The boring and the interesting. And the in between, which we will determine ourselves.” I know what he is asking, even if he doesn’t go down on one knee. Even when he doesn’t produce a ring. Even when we are both as still as the gravestones we are surrounded by. In another world, in another universe, we’d have been married. Maybe even with a kid. In another universe, maybe Mom would still be with us. Maybe tonight, we’d be having dinner while she babysat our child. And then there’s another world. One where Joe and I went our separate ways. One where Joe is asking someone else to marry him right about now—maybe Presley—and I’m sitting in my room, rearranging my album collection and still hating my life. There are so many versions to reality. All of them dictated by the slightest decision. But right now, I know I made the right one. I reach my arm between us, opening my palm. Guiding him to safety. “Come with me,” I say, paying him back for all those years when he saved me from drowning. “There’s another chapter in our story I want to write.”