TWENTY-FIVE
“CHANGE OF PLANS,” Clive announced when I got downstairs the next afternoon.
Change of plans or change of mind?
It would be my luck that Clive had woke up having changed his mind.
Maybe what I had told him this morning really did make a difference?
Either way, I had to deal with the consequences.
“What do you mean by change of plans?”
“My lawyer dropped off the paperwork here. We’ll sign it later and then make it official.”
I wanted the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach to be wrong, but I knew there was a real possibility that despite what he was saying, Clive had changed his mind.
“Go grab your coat. We’re going out.”
I panicked.
What if he was turning me in?
Where were we going?
He slid a piece of paper down the bar toward me, and I picked it up. There was only an address written down on the front.
“What’s this?” I held up the paper.
“You’ll see. Let’s go.”
When we pulled up to the cemetery gates, my heart was in my throat. I looked over at Clive, but he was expressionless behind his aviator sunglasses. He drove through the gates with no hesitation as if he had been there a million times.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I asked.
He nodded.
A moment later, he pulled up alongside a random curb and cut the engine. We didn’t move or speak as we stared out the windshield.
“You ready?” he finally asked.
“Nope, but let’s go anyway.”
He walked beside me, and I was relieved I didn’t have to face the past alone.
He led us to two graves side by side, and we stopped in front of them. The names etched into the shared headstone hurt my eyes, and I had to close them to relieve the pressure building.
I was grateful that Clive had brought me to visit them, but at the same time, I felt as though my heart would stop every time my eyes moved over their names.
And then it all made sense to me.
Coming to their graves wasn’t to ease the guilt. It was to make sure I was feeling the full extent of what we had done that night.
I wasn’t alone in this.
I hadn’t pulled the trigger.
But I was just as much to blame.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, wishing I wasn’t saying those three words to tombstones. “You didn’t deserve this. Your kids didn’t deserve this. I never wanted to rob you of your life together. Please forgive me.”
The words came out broken as my sobs slipped free. My remorse—the guilt—shook my entire body as I stood there and cried. An emotional breakdown was long overdue.
I cried for them—for their children—for myself. And as I did, Clive put his arm around my shoulder and held me as I shook.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” I said.
He nodded.
“You needed this, son. You can’t ever undo what happened, but you can do your best to make it right. Let this push you to be a better man than you already are. Let this steer you in the right direction.”
I nodded, agreeing with him completely.
Something good had to come out of all of this, and I was hoping that something good would be the changes I would make to give myself a better life.
Maybe one day, I could reach out and help a kid like me the way Clive had helped me.
He was right. I couldn’t right the wrong, but I could spend the rest of my life trying to make up for what happened.
“Let’s go home, son,” he said, turning me toward the car.
After everything I had done, Clive saw beyond my past. And when we got back to the bar, we signed the paperwork to make it official. I was no longer some kid on the street. I was no longer alone. Once we’d signed those papers, I was Sebastian, Clive’s son.
It was the happiest moment of my life.
I finally had a family.
I returned to the cemetery at least once a month after that. It felt right to visit them and bring fresh flowers. Usually, I found myself alone with flower arrangements and headstones as far as my eyes could see, but that changed when I pulled up.
I spotted them the second I pulled Clive’s car up to the curb. At first, I wasn’t sure if they were standing at the very graves I was there to visit, but then I saw her blazing hair and I knew it was her.
The little girl from that night.
The daughter.
The person whose world I had destroyed.
I wanted to go over and tell them I was sorry. I wanted to drop to my knees and beg for their forgiveness, but instead, I sat there, watching them grieve for the very lives I had taken.
I didn’t leave the car. I couldn’t force myself to open the door. It hadn’t occurred to me that they would visit their parents, but it obviously made sense that they would.
Starting the engine, I put the car in drive and drove away.
I would visit another day.
I was too much of a pussy to face them.
When I got back to the bar, Clive wasn’t in the front.
“Clive?” I called out, but I was met with steely silence.
Moving toward the hallway at the back of the bar, I heard him coughing. It didn’t register as off until he was coughing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. Alarm bells went off, and I moved quicker to his back office.
Poking my head through the door, his back was to me, and he was leaning forward, coughing into a napkin. When the episode subsided, he spun around in his wooden desk chair so fast I didn’t have time to prepare either one of us.
“Hells bells, Sebastian!” he snapped. “What the heck is wrong with you? Why are you standing there without saying anything?”
“I literally just poked my head in, old man. Relax.” I looked him over. “Are you okay? I heard you coughing.”
He waved his hand in the air and stood, walking past me. “You said it yourself, son. I’m an old man. We tend to cough, fart, and drool a little more than we’d like to.”
I smirked. “Thanks for the overshare.”
“Well, if you’re going to be making a fuss over a little cough, you might as well be aware of everything.”
“I wasn’t making a fuss. I was just asking.”
“You have better things to be doing. Like getting us ready to open.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, making my way to the supply room.
I didn’t want to fuss over Clive, but that cough sounded serious.
In the end, I decided to just keep a closer eye on him. If it got worse, I could always make him go to the doctor. And since the adoption was official, he had to listen to me. Seeing as I was his son now and all.