To Say Goodbye by Lindsay Detwiler

around her, to hear him tell the story of when they first met as he had so many times. She wanted to hear him talk animatedly about the new Call of Duty game coming out or the new Mexican restaurant in town or the new deposition he had to work on. She wanted to hear him chatter on mindlessly about the weather or about dinner or about his new pair of shoes. She just wanted to hear his voice, hear it saying anything at all.
    Instead, only silence greeted her. A long, drowning silence swept around her, the streetlight nearby casting an eerie beam of light on the area. Water seeped into her jeans from the damp grass. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was dead, and with him, a part of her was dead too. In truth, it was more than just a part of her that died with him—she felt like her whole being had died. She was simply an empty shell mindlessly clattering through a semblance of the life she once had.
    As she thought about how unfair life was, a soft sound of footsteps caught her attention. She turned from the stone to see who was nearby.
    “Sophia,” the familiar voice said, and she rose to greet him, happy to see she wasn’t alone, at least for the moment.

CHAPTER SIX
    JACKSON
    H e wrapped his arms around her as she quite literally fell into him, tripping as she scrambled to reach him. Both her presence at the grave and her reaction to seeing him there surprised him. He hadn’t expected to see anyone here, had expected just to wallow in the sight of his old friend’s grave in solitude. He’d had an instant, inexplicable urge to come here. He hadn’t been here since the day of the burial, had been avoiding it in some capacity. He felt like coming here was just acknowledging what he didn’t want to recognize—Tim was gone, and he hadn’t said goodbye. No one had.
    He’d since realized what a blessing it was he was here. Sophia was clearly a train wreck. Who could blame her? She’d been trying so hard to hold it together. It was apparent at the funeral and even more obvious at the bar. Now, he saw the true state of her, the state that was to be expected.
    She buried her face against his pecs, and he instinctively stroked her hair, comfort radiating through his fingers. They stood, two people grieving, holding onto each other. There was nothing sensuous about it, nothing inappropriate. They were two people, one from Tim’s past and one from his present, finding solace in their mutual loss. Holding her, he realized now he too had been holding back, had been pretending Tim’s death wasn’t affecting him.
    But it was.
    It was another loss in the string of a life falling apart. It was also guilt. He hadn’t made time, had been so absorbed in himself he hadn’t made room for the friend who’d been his rock as a child. Tim had been there so many times for Jackson. He’d helped him through everything from failed classes to the death of Wade to breakups. He’d been there to encourage him through boot camp, to send letters and care packages when he was off in Iraq. Tim had never forgotten him, not really.
    Jackson couldn’t say the same thing.
    Time had thrown a wedge between them. Time had been hard on Jackson and had tossed him off his path. He’d become absorbed in his own life. Now it was too late to tell Tim what he had meant to him.
    “I’m sorry,” Sophia finally said, pulling back. “I’m so sorry. It just all crept up on me, and then you were here, and I know you understand. I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t apologize,” he whispered, his voice breathy and crackling. “You don’t have to apologize. You don’t have to pretend. I know how much he meant to you. He meant a lot to me too. It’s so hard. It sucks.”
    She looked at him, and even with the darkness, he could see recognition. They understood each other. They didn’t have to pretend this was easy.
    They stood for a moment side by side, staring at the grave.
    “I miss him,” she said.
    “I know. Me too. I feel awful I didn’t