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it’s time to return to reality. I think I’m going to talk Mom into doing this monthly or at least every other month. Even though it felt like Ragan was ripping my butt cheek from my body, the ointment she put on after soothed away the ache in my rump.
    We stop at a deli on our way to Mom’s to grab a late lunch and it’s the perfect way to complete our morning out together.
    “Nate’s headstone should be in place now,” my mom randomly blurts out while we are eating. Not exactly what I’m expecting her to talk about.
    “Do you want to check and see? To make sure it’s how you want it?” I know if I don’t offer, she will go by herself.
    “If you don’t mind, we can head over after we eat.”
    “That’s fine. I don’t think we have anything else planned.”
    “No, I didn’t know if you were staying the whole weekend or not.”
    “I guess I thought you would know I’d be here until Sunday afternoon.”
    “I know that now; do you want to go to mass with me in the morning?” Church. Blah.
    “Early mass?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “That’s fine. Mind if I borrow a dress.” She just looks at me.
    “I don’t know if I have anything long enough. They all will be short on you.”
    “That’s the point.”
    “Smartass.” She shakes her head and resumes eating her lunch. I’m sure I just got out of going to mass with her, and I smile to myself and finish my sandwich in a comfortable silence.
    The sun at this time of day is blistering hot, unlike the last time I was here. What a difference a week makes in a cemetery. I don’t know exactly where I’m going and I hope she does.
    “Go around the bend and take a right. Drive out a little ways. He’s in a row almost by himself. There are four empty plots around him…” she trails off.
    Four? What is she talking about? I guess we will have to talk about this later. I’m too busy trying to concentrate on where I’m going and keeping the tears at bay.
    “Slow down. See that tree? Park right there.” She looks out the window. “It’s there,” she says, pointing her finger out the window.
    I pull under the tree and turn off the car. I lick my lips and take a slow, deep breath.
    “Yes.” She gets out and I quickly follow behind her. I look around on my way to Nate’s resting place, and I see the willow tree where I saw the man under during the funeral. I continue to walk but I’m not paying attention to where I’m walking and run right into my mom.
    “Um. Sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” Oops.
    “You’re fine. Well, what do you think?”
    I look at it, and our family picture is in the center of the headstone. Nathanial Kendrick Reed Janes, 23 years of age. He gave all serving his country … I can’t read anymore as my eyes fill with tears, but my eyes advert to the name. Why is there Reed on there?
    “Mom? Did they mess up Nate’s name?”
    “No.” She doesn’t explain herself any further.
    “Okay.” I notice there are fresh cut flowers on his headstone and I wonder if she brought them recently. “Pretty flowers you brought here.”
    “Those aren’t from me. I haven’t been here since the funeral, because I haven’t been able to bring myself here.”
    “You should have called; I would have picked you up.”
    “It’s okay, sweet girl. I can make it here now. The grief is still here,” she puts her hand on her chest, “but it’s getting better.” She smiles through her tears.
    “Oh, Mom.” I pull her into a hug and I swear I can feel Nate’s arms around us. I love you too, Nate .

    “P atrick, it’s Addison. Please call me. Dad’s awake. Love you.” Message two. “Patrick. Please call me. I love you.” Message three . “Patrick Harrold Matheson! Call me.” End of messages .
    Ugh. She’s upset with me. I hate it when Addison’s mad at me—the one person who used to protect her. I throw my phone down on my desk and push myself into my chair. Shit. I don’t even know what time it is. Or what day it