said. “I mean, the sculpture. It caught my eye from the bike path. That’s how I wound up here.”
“It’s funny. I think if she were around to see it, she would like it, and that makes it easier for me when I come here to talk to her.” She cast a sidelong glance in his direction. “I hope that doesn’t seem weird, you know, that I talk to her.”
Not even close , he thought to himself. “I don’t think it’s weird.” For a moment they stood side by side, observing the sculpture. She was only wearing a thin jacket, and she crossed her arms over her chest to keep herself warm. Jason thought about offering his own coat, but decided it would be weird. Finally, he broke the silence. “You must miss her.”
“All the time. But when I come here, it’s different. It’s almost like she’s not gone. I don’t know. I don’t talk to her because I think she can hear me, but sometimes it does feel like she’s listening.” As she spoke, she neatened up the tributes people had deposited there, lining up the stuffed animals, and brushing away dead leaves and twigs. She straightened up and studied Jason carefully — for a split second, he felt like she could see through him and knew exactly why he was there, but he realized he was being paranoid. “You must think I’m crazy,” she said with a wry laugh. “Sometimes I have no filter.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Jason said sincerely. “I can’t even imagine what it’s like to lose your best friend.”
She smiled gratefully, before offering her hand to him. “I’m Jenna,” she said. Arm outstretched, the resemblance to the child in the photo with Lacey was almost eerie.
“I’m Jason. It’s nice to meet you. I hope you don’t mind my being here.”
“No, I mean, we wanted to put the memorial in a public park because Lacey liked being around other people so much.”
It was as if Jenna knew one Lacey, the social butterfly, and he knew her shadow, who only had eyes for him. He was unsettled by it, as if one of them would slip away at any moment. He wanted desperately for his Lacey to come to life, but seeing the pained expression on Jenna’s face made him feel selfish about not caring more about the one she had lost.
As shaken as he was by the duality, there was something about Jenna that put him at ease. When she spoke, the questions stopped swirling. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with someone who knew the flesh-and-blood Lacey made him feel connected to the person beyond the avatar. He almost felt like he could trust Jenna. For the briefest of seconds, Jason was compelled to tell her Lacey wasn’t a stranger, that, in fact, he knew her well. And then he remembered Lacey’s warning. A favor. I hate to ask. Can you not tell anyone we’re talking? Maybe this was all a test. Maybe she had known he’d come here.
“I think I, um, read something about her. About Lacey.” He wanted to keep the conversation going, but he wasn’t sure how. “Like, maybe on Facebook or something?”
Jenna studied him. “Are you from Brighton?”
“No, Oakdale.”
“I don’t know about in Oakdale, but around here it’s pretty big news when a sixteen-year-old falls off a balcony during a party.”
He winced at the harsh image. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that’s how she …” He trailed off. For some reason the word “died” wouldn’t come out. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize that’s what happened.”
“I didn’t mean to get so intense about it, it’s just … Facebook. It’s really weird after you lose someone, you know? Like, everyone’s posting random stuff about this thing that’s really personal and deep, and they’re all ‘LOL’ or they’re talking trash. It’s bizarre, like, Lacey’s gone, and Facebook keeps happening.” Jason couldn’t make himself look at her as she spoke. If you only knew … he thought silently.
“I’m so sorry,” Jason said. Why did he keep apologizing? “Did I already say
“It’s funny. I think if she were around to see it, she would like it, and that makes it easier for me when I come here to talk to her.” She cast a sidelong glance in his direction. “I hope that doesn’t seem weird, you know, that I talk to her.”
Not even close , he thought to himself. “I don’t think it’s weird.” For a moment they stood side by side, observing the sculpture. She was only wearing a thin jacket, and she crossed her arms over her chest to keep herself warm. Jason thought about offering his own coat, but decided it would be weird. Finally, he broke the silence. “You must miss her.”
“All the time. But when I come here, it’s different. It’s almost like she’s not gone. I don’t know. I don’t talk to her because I think she can hear me, but sometimes it does feel like she’s listening.” As she spoke, she neatened up the tributes people had deposited there, lining up the stuffed animals, and brushing away dead leaves and twigs. She straightened up and studied Jason carefully — for a split second, he felt like she could see through him and knew exactly why he was there, but he realized he was being paranoid. “You must think I’m crazy,” she said with a wry laugh. “Sometimes I have no filter.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Jason said sincerely. “I can’t even imagine what it’s like to lose your best friend.”
She smiled gratefully, before offering her hand to him. “I’m Jenna,” she said. Arm outstretched, the resemblance to the child in the photo with Lacey was almost eerie.
“I’m Jason. It’s nice to meet you. I hope you don’t mind my being here.”
“No, I mean, we wanted to put the memorial in a public park because Lacey liked being around other people so much.”
It was as if Jenna knew one Lacey, the social butterfly, and he knew her shadow, who only had eyes for him. He was unsettled by it, as if one of them would slip away at any moment. He wanted desperately for his Lacey to come to life, but seeing the pained expression on Jenna’s face made him feel selfish about not caring more about the one she had lost.
As shaken as he was by the duality, there was something about Jenna that put him at ease. When she spoke, the questions stopped swirling. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with someone who knew the flesh-and-blood Lacey made him feel connected to the person beyond the avatar. He almost felt like he could trust Jenna. For the briefest of seconds, Jason was compelled to tell her Lacey wasn’t a stranger, that, in fact, he knew her well. And then he remembered Lacey’s warning. A favor. I hate to ask. Can you not tell anyone we’re talking? Maybe this was all a test. Maybe she had known he’d come here.
“I think I, um, read something about her. About Lacey.” He wanted to keep the conversation going, but he wasn’t sure how. “Like, maybe on Facebook or something?”
Jenna studied him. “Are you from Brighton?”
“No, Oakdale.”
“I don’t know about in Oakdale, but around here it’s pretty big news when a sixteen-year-old falls off a balcony during a party.”
He winced at the harsh image. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that’s how she …” He trailed off. For some reason the word “died” wouldn’t come out. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize that’s what happened.”
“I didn’t mean to get so intense about it, it’s just … Facebook. It’s really weird after you lose someone, you know? Like, everyone’s posting random stuff about this thing that’s really personal and deep, and they’re all ‘LOL’ or they’re talking trash. It’s bizarre, like, Lacey’s gone, and Facebook keeps happening.” Jason couldn’t make himself look at her as she spoke. If you only knew … he thought silently.
“I’m so sorry,” Jason said. Why did he keep apologizing? “Did I already say
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