Epoligue
The drive was a short and windy one from the shack of a house I sleep in when I'm down south. I bounce back and forth between here and L.A. for time with unofficial family and some 'god damn piece and quiet' as Demi would say. My car smelled of roses, wet dog and old memories with people I used to know. The gray TEXAS sweatshirt in the backseat is Demi's, folded like our time together in neat, curved sections. When I went to her house, Diana said I could take whatever I like. Unfortunately I was only able to grab that one piece of clothing before I went into a breakdown of sobbing and migraine calling mental shut down. Every time I saw her I'd lose my mind. The constant assault of memories bombarded my mind and I collapsed every time; sacrificing myself, praying to God to have mercy on me. She believed in Him, and any connection to her is like a whiff of her perfume. I couldn't go to the grocery store because all the tabloids had her face with stories that don't match the facts. Some said it was drugs, some said it was a spiral into a fatal depression, some even said it was me. Despite all the differences in what they think went down, they all had Demi's face as the main picture, and every one of them neglected the positivity and light she had. They found an angle where no one could connect the freckles on her face to see who she really was or what she really meant.
I pulled into the cemetery slowly and drove to the back corner, where I know she will lie. When I get to her headstone, which is surrounded by gifts from family, friends, and fans, I look over myself in the overhead mirror as if I had a date with the dead. The bags under my eyes eventually faded away after long months of restless sleep and panic attacks; and my color came back after all but hiding under a rock for months at a time. I was so lonesome I could die until I found Sydney. Ever since then, he's been the light at the end of the tunnel. Waking up to his furry, black face and little paws keeps me sane.
I got out of the car with the roses. The overcast sky loomed over me for the dusk of the day in Dallas as I walked to her headstone and placed the roses gently in front of it; in between a family photo and Nick Jonas's daughter, Hailey. I then sat on the ground in front of her, resting my head again Brian Walters's resting place. I give him a daisy once in a while to thank him for his service.
"Hey Demi. Sorry it's been so long." I said, pausing so the wind could speak for her. I looked wearily at her headstone, imagining her before the end, when she was happy. I thought of her smiling face, her warm mien, and every little detail that made her who she was. She would have been thirty three today. I know she wouldn't look the same. She would have matured mentally and physically. Maybe she would have had children. Maybe they would have even been with me. "I miss you, Dems. Every day. No matter how much time passes, I still feel like I'm breathing underwater. I umm.. got you this. I know it's a little late and you don't really have fingers but I saw it and figured, since we never really split, maybe you'd like it". I laughed humorlessly. Talking to this stone stresses me out more than how much time has passed. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the box, fiddling with it for a moment before opening towards her. "Will you marry me?". The pressure behind my eyes was always something I pulled down and swallowed like a pill, a medication to tame an incurable illness: longing. This time it was already high in my head and flowing to push through every exit it had. I hung my head, closing the box and letting Brian bear the weight of my sobs on his granite resting place.
Demi wouldn't want me to cry. I know she would tell me I'm stronger than this. I also know that for the last ten years, the absence of her next to me has haunted me. I came home one night after visiting Dylan during one of his stints at the hospital and noticed every picture with me in it was put on its face. I didn't know how long it was like that. I am a victim of my own haunting. When I'm not here with her beneath me, I only see the hospital Demi. Pale, cold, lifeless Demetria stares into my soul and tears it apart with her nimble fingers and fancy nails.
I suck up my outburst and swallow hard, as if to digest it and savor the strength it has. I want her to seep into the marrow of my bones and leak into my blood stream. She swelled my heart and my brain long ago; filling me with love and new thoughts previously unknown. It's time for her to finish me off, take me with her in the most passionate of ways. I want her soul to reach inside me and swallow my inner self whole. I need to shed the shell of this skin. I want to lie next to her with a smirk on my face. But I can't. She would be mad at me for offing myself, especially with her kitchen knife.
"Aiden got married. I wish you could have seen it. He wore the ugliest purple suit you've ever seen and his husband, Trevor, he wore this weird vest getup. You would have loved it. It was beautiful. I know how you like beautiful people." I didn't have the courage to tell her the bad stuff. I never did. I couldn't tell her the Dylan became John Balushi and dipped into drugs when his disease got worse. I couldn't tell her he has a speech impediment now that the mix of pills and cocaine got in his head. He lives with me now. She'd have a fit if she knew I have found six speedballs within various places of the house. Dylan is only expected to live about a year longer because of what he let himself become. Batman died a while ago. Maddie took him for a few years until he got old and she put him down because he'd whimper every time he was patted on his head because of his tumor.
I've read a lot of books Demi used to have tucked away in her bookshelf. She never read any but the classics that were read for her as a child. Being famous took up too much time. I read so much while trying to be close to the girl she never got to build a skin for I went through her paperback dictionary. I absorbed all the words like one last breath; I even found a favorite. I loved the word lucid just because of the way it rolled off the tongue like melted chocolate. My least favorite became almost. The word held what could have been but never became. Almost had the taste of warm ice cream from a metal spoon. It is what was oh so possible but at the last second fell to pieces.
She was almost living.
She was almost better.
She almost made it.
We almost had forever.
But with all other almosts, forever melted like the raspberries in the palm of our hands.
"I knew I'd find you here" A familiar female voice said. I look up to the sky over my shoulder and there stands Selena, her long brown hair and soft brown eyes meet mine and her slender frame holds a relaxed posture that doesn't fit me the same. Even though we are close we do not share clothes because I am Demi's size. She got over Her death faster than I did, she and Demetria had a fallout after all. However, she was still crying beside me at the funeral like everyone else. Despite how long it's been, childhoods are engraved in the underbelly of your skin, and I knew Selena felt a pain in her heart when a part of her came to a close.
"How?" I asked.
Selena sat beside me and signed, her long fingers holding mine as her head lolled onto my shoulder. "Because I always find you here when we visit".
I shrug, knowing there is nothing to say. She understands why I come and how I feel. She also knows why I'll always have bruises only I can poke at. The two of us sit side by side as we look at our fallen hero. The little bird decoration I got last year sways slightly on its pole in the slight breeze. I know I'll be here tomorrow, but I don't want to leave.
"It's been a decade", Selena says cautiously, "Do you ever want to get out of this cycle of coming here and pretending the rest of your life isn't? Your life is where your heart is."
"The saying is home is where the heart is", I mutter back. "Are you saying my home is a cemetery in Texas?"
"No", she smiles as a soft giggle escapes her thin lips before she goes back to her shy bravery. Demi and I is a rare topic. "But this is the closest you can get to it", she pauses. "Building a new one isn't an option for you, is it?".The question is one we both know the answer too. I've tried to move on, to be happy like Demi would want me to, but I'm stuck. Even with the burning curiosity to feel a spark again, life is a hurricane, and all my fuel is wet. I shake my head and she nods. Moving houses would mean letting this one go. Homes are expensive, after all. I don't have the space behind my eyes to lend to two loves.
Selena props herself up and asks if I'll be home soon; and as soon as I promise I will she drives off in her jet black charger. A few moments of drifting in and out of my thoughts pass before I too stand. After the quick check to be sure I've picked up every piece of me I need, I kiss Demi's headstone. "Home is where the heart is"
With that I drove away, content I'd be right back home tomorrow.
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am I seriously done? probably not.
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