“Hi.”

It’d taken me fifteen minutes to speak, and that was what I said.

I wasn’t sure it even mattered what I said, but surely that wasn’t what it should be.

When we’d come back before, I’d planned out what I wanted to say. The therapist had suggested it before the first trip, saying it might make the experience less daunting.

This year, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want the days and days of obsessing over it, making myself into a mess long before I got on the plane. This year, I just wanted to let it happen.

I was wondering right then if it was the wrong thing to do.

“I don’t know what to say. I feel like I talk to you in my own head all the time. And there are the times that you talk to me. I don’t know, maybe that’s not you. It’s probably not you. But it sounds like you.

“Actually, if that is you, it’d be great if you stopped. It makes me feel like I’m crazy.”

I dropped my head into my hands.

“I’m a mess, none of this is even worth saying. What am I doing?”

Breathe.

“Stop it!” I snapped.

But he wasn’t there, so who was I yelling at?

A piece of stone?

I focused on that bit of stone, on his name etched into the surface, the dates that were nowhere near as long as they should have been, the words Daz had chosen to engrave beneath it all: “Brother. Husband. Father. The best of them all.”

“I have to register Owen for first grade next month,” I blurted. “He’s going to be in school full-time. I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe take on more at the bakery to stay busy. He’s excited about it, but I don’t think he really understands what it even means. He just knows there were friends at kindergarten, and there will be more in first grade. I guess that’s all he really needs to know to be excited. He’s so like you in that.

“He’s so like you in every way. It’s that light, that charisma. He’s still so young, but it’s already there in him. That’s all you. It always was. And he looks just like you. I think when people see him with Daz, they think he’s his. You Larson boys are just like clones.”

I puffed out a laugh to keep it from turning into a sob.

“He’s old enough now to understand. He knows his daddy isn’t around when other kids’ are. He sees the brothers with their kids and gets that he doesn’t have that. But he can’t begin to understand just what he’s missing out on. They’re all great dads, but you would have been the best. You were the best, even though you didn’t get to do it long.

“Remember how scared we were? We had no idea what good parents did. Well, you did, even if you didn’t think so. You raised Daz. He turned out…” An ex-con biker. “Okay, maybe not the best example, but he’s a good person.

“Can I confess something? I’m still scared. I’m scared all the time that I don’t know how to do this. Every new thing that comes along as he grows, I wonder if this is where I screw up, if this is where I fail him. Then I wonder if you would have done better. If you’d know what to do every time I feel lost.”

My breaths were too fast, and I needed to slow them down. In, 1, 2, 3. Out, 1, 2, 3. I wiped the tears that had been steadily falling from my cheeks. It didn’t matter, they kept coming. They mixed with the drizzle that was soaking me drop by drop.

I stared at the grass that had grown over the place he was buried, and I gave up.

I sat down where I was, not giving a damn that the wet grass was seeping into my jeans. What did it matter?

“I’m sure Daz told you about the baby. Avery’s kind of a mess, but I know they’re both excited. We’re all excited for them. Or I try to be. It’s hard to ignore the fact that their baby will never know his or her uncle. You’ll just be a story we tell them. And I’m terrified that’s already what you are to Owen. He’ll mention you, but I think it’s just because Daz and I have talked about you. Doc, too. Not because he can remember back that far. How could he?

“Liam says—”

I froze.

How could I say that?

You can tell me anything, Katie.

“Shut up! Shut up! Just stop!”

The tears came harder.

“I can’t tell you about that. How do I tell you about how he makes me feel more secure than anything has since you were taken from me? How do I tell you that it makes me feel sick inside, but I’m attracted to him? I don’t want to be. I want to be your wife. That’s it. The end. But you’re gone and I don’t know if I can live out the rest of my life being nothing more than the woman that used to be your wife.”

It took a few minutes to get my breathing back to normal after that.

The rain was cold, and my joints felt stiff, but I wasn’t ready to go yet.

“Maybe everyone was right. Maybe moving on is important, but the thought of letting you go kills me. I don’t even know how.”

“Moving on doesn’t mean you forget, or that you stop hurting. It doesn’t mean you stop missing him or erase him from your life. It means you find a balance. You build a life in the here and now that isn’t just on the foundation of what you’ve lost. You can remember, and grieve, and hurt, but you also live. You find joy in things again, even if they are different things than before. You experience all the ups and downs of life rather than just going through the motions. Exactly what all that looks like is up to you. You just have to start living bit by bit and see what you create.”

That was what the therapist had told me. I’d told her I’d taken it to heart, even though I hadn’t felt like I had at the time. That I could still recall it now told me maybe it hadn’t been quite the lie I thought it was.

“I keep wondering what you would even want if you could have had a say. If you’d known it was going to happen but couldn’t stop it, what would you have told me to do? But you can’t tell me, and any time I think I know, I question if it’s just me trying to justify my own actions.

“I think that’s one of the worst things. I miss you in so many ways, but above all the rest, you were my best friend. You were the one I could go to with anything. You were the one that helped me sort through my messy thoughts, the one I could be completely honest with, the one who always knew what I truly needed even when I couldn’t see it. It’s like you were the only one in my life who could have helped me through the trauma of losing you. How fucked up is that?”

I fiddled with the wedding ring I’d never taken off. I supposed there was some point in this process where I was meant to. I slid it off, just to see how it felt, but lowered it on again. Maybe I could try putting it on the other hand.

“I love you,” I whispered. “I’ll always love you. I’m just starting to wonder if it’s time I stop letting that love consume me. If that’s even possible. I’m really not sure it is, but I think I might need to try.”

Even as I said it, part of me wanted to take it back. I was imagining myself there in another year, just as much of a disaster with no sign of an end.

Is that what I wanted?

Is that what he would want?

“Maybe next time I’ll bring Owen. I’ve been waiting because it’s hard for him to understand, but I think next time he might be ready. I brought a picture with me for now and a drawing he did of us a few weeks ago. I’ll leave them here for you.”

It took a few tries to get my bag unzipped with the way my hands shook, even longer to retrieve the papers from inside. I was glad Avery had taken it upon herself to laminate them. I knew they’d be removed in time, but I didn’t like the thought of the rain destroying them so quickly.

I watched the drops of water hit and run down their surfaces, making the images beneath harder and harder to see. Still, even long after my clothes were drenched, I sat in that same spot.

I talked to Joel for hours, telling him everything I could think of from the last year he had missed. I told him story after story about Owen, about Daz, about the club, and the bakery. I told him about my tattoo, how I’d finally gotten it after all these years. I talked until my voice was hoarse and I’d long since run out of tears. When the sun started to set, I realized I had just been sitting there for a while, out of things to say.

It was time to go.

Even as my heart protested, I struggled to my feet and walked forward on shaky legs to touch the cold stone.

“I miss you so much. Every single day, I miss you and I love you. If you know nothing else, I hope you know that, and know it will never change.”

It took a while longer before I could make myself walk away. It was agony to leave, but it was time.

Joel wasn’t here. This was just a place. Joel was in my memory and in my heart.

And he always would be.

Daz and I didn’t stay much longer. There was no point. We were there to visit Joel. With that done, we had Avery and Owen to get back to.

We had the red-eye out that same night. When we boarded, I brought my phone out only to find it nearly dead. I hadn’t used it since we’d been gone, so it hadn’t occurred to me to charge it either. I’d talked to Owen several times, but it had been on Daz’s phone when he called Avery each time. There were a mess of notifications. All well-wishes from the Disciples women. A few texts from Avery with pictures of Owen.

Nothing from Liam, but I’d essentially told him not to, hadn’t I?

With a sigh, I powered the thing down and threw it into my bag.

We were on our way home, and I had no idea what to do now.

I think part of me had hoped visiting Joel would make things clearer. Like somehow being there would make me understand what I should do now, or clear my head enough to figure out what I should do about Liam.

“There’s no magic fix. You have to tackle each issue, each day, one at a time.”

I dropped my head back against my seat. I’d gladly keep Joel’s voice if it meant I could stop dredging up all the advice from the therapist. My head was starting to feel like a self-help book.

“Hanging in there?” Daz asked.

“As much as I can be.”

He nodded, sober as he always was when we had to confront our loss. There was nothing I could say now to shake him of that. When we were back home, he’d find his way back to himself again.

Maybe it was about time I tried that, too.

After we took off, once Daz fell asleep like he always seemed to on planes, I fished out a pair of headphones and plugged them into the armrest. Mindlessly, I flipped through the stations, waiting for something to give me cause to stop. Wherever I landed, it’d probably be my station for the whole flight. If I was lucky, I might even fall asleep, too. I hadn’t gotten much in days.

When I heard “Zombie” by The Cranberries, I decided that would do. I closed my eyes and listened, hoping the music would chase my other thoughts away, if only for a little while.

For the next hour or so, I was all right.

I’d given up the ghost when it came to sleeping, but that was fine. At least I was calm. Calmer than I’d ever been on this trip.

And then the song started.

All it took was getting to the chorus once for me to dissolve into silent tears, even as I hated myself.

There I was, in the middle of a reasonably full airplane, crying while listening to “Believe” by Cher.

It wasn’t even about loss. It was a goddamn breakup song.

But I wanted to believe. I wanted it so bad it hurt.

In my head, I could hear Joel laughing. It didn’t even hurt to hear. It was comforting that even in my head, he thought this was as ridiculous as it really was.

Really, Katie? Are you fucking kidding me?

Well, he could fuck right off.

This was rock bottom. It had to be. There was no lower than breaking down to a song best suited for roller rinks.

But the great thing about rock bottom was you could only go up.