The Chord to my Heart

28: Meet Madelyn

28: Meet Madelyn

[Lyla’s POV]

It just so happened that Mase’s little sister was buried in the same cemetery as my mother. I realized this after we stopped to buy flowers, as he took the exit off the highway, heading towards the familiar road which I’d so conveniently avoided these last six months. My stomach twisted into tight knots, making it hard to breathe. The voice in my head was begging me to tell Mase to stop. To turn around and please take me as far away from this place as possible. But I kept quiet, not letting the words find their way past my lips. I would simply avoid my mother's grave, and just be there for Mase. I couldn't be so selfish and ruin his visit with Madelyn. I squeezed my eyes shut for the rest of the ride until the bike came to a stop and Mase shut off the engine.

"So this is it," he said.

He took my hand, leading me in the direction of her grave. I squeezed his hand much too tight, feeling breathless as we walked through the grass, passing a countless number of headstones before he finally stopped. He kneeled down, leaving the flowers next to her name, which he touched with his fingertips.

“Here she is,” he said, his voice barely audible as he stood.

When I looked up at Mase, I saw his jaw tightened. His eyes were fighting to gain control of the emotions that felt like suffocation. But there were no words that could help you breathe again. So I stood by him, in silence, my eyes skimming across her name over and over again. I could feel his pain and I could feel my own. I fought the tears, forcing them to stay where they were.

“She must’ve been beautiful, Mase. And lucky, too,” I said, imagining a pretty little girl with bright eyes just like her brother.

“Why lucky?” he asked.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him before saying, “For having you as her older brother.”

His arms found their way around me too as he shook his head. “If it wasn’t for me, she would still be alive.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “I wish you would see that.”

“I may not be the person that was driving the car that hit her, but I was the one who could’ve stopped her from getting hit,” he said, an anger lacing his tone. I knew he was mad at himself, but one day he would realize that it was all just an accident.  

“The reasons don’t matter though. You just have to focus on getting past this somehow,” I said, not believing the words spilling from my mouth.

“Seems impossible, doesn’t it?” he asked, his grip around me tightening.

I nodded, pressing my cheek against the warmth of his chest. My eyes skimmed the cemetery although I promised I wouldn’t look for her. But my eyes found her regardless, just past the gazebo, under the shade of a tree. The familiar sight of my mother’s last resting place punched a hole right through my body. The outer edges of my wound began to ache and beg for attention. But I didn’t know how to cure it. I didn’t know how to make the hurt go away.

It wasn’t until I felt Mase’s fingers wiping at my cheeks that I realized I’d been crying, my gaze locked at the space just ahead.

“Lyla, what’s wrong?” he asked, wearing a concerned look on his face.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried without trying to stop myself, to hold it all in. So today, I didn’t. I let the tears flow freely, not able to tell him what was so wrong.

“Is it because I brought you to a cemetery? I’m so sorry, I should’ve known it would remind you of your mom,” he said, pressing me into his chest where my tears stained his t-shirt.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he said, starting to walk me back to the bike and further away from my mother. But suddenly I didn’t want to leave. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

So I stopped, shaking my head, pulling out of his arms. I gained just enough control to tell him what I wanted, wiping at the constant tears that fell from my eyes. I took a deep breath and said, “My mom. She’s over there.”

I pointed past the gazebo, just under the familiar tree. And when his gaze followed in the direction of my finger, he finally understood.

“Oh shit,” he said. “If I knew she was buried here, I would’ve never brought you. I’m sorry, Lyla. I’m so, so sorry.”

I just shook my head, taking his hand in mine and pulling him towards her grave. I gave his hand a squeeze, telling him this wasn’t it fault. He shouldn’t feel sorry. Maybe it was fate, telling me it’s time to come see my mother. But whatever it was, I was happy about one thing. That I didn’t have to do this alone.

“You sure?” he asked.

I nodded my head, making my way towards my mother while pulling Mase along with me. I mimicked Mase from earlier, the way he sat next to Madelyn’s grave and brushed his fingers across her name. I felt my mother’s name, my insides twisting and turning as my fingers traced each letter. I tried to think of the feeling of her hands when she held mine, or the way she brushed the hair from my face just before kissing me on the forehead. I tried to imagine her warmth but instead the cool, hard concrete sent a chill through my body. I felt no warmth, no relief.

The tears had stopped now, but the aching, as always, continued. I leaned on Mase, trying to find words to say.

“Being here is supposed to help?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I think it just hurts more than anything in the beginning. But the more often you come, the easier it becomes.”

I nodded, silently wishing for that day to come soon.

You know, you shouldn’t blame yourself either, Lyla. None of this was your fault,” Mase said.

Just moments ago I wanted to do anything to make him believe that his sister’s death wasn’t his fault, yet here I stood feeling nothing but guilt for my mom taking her own life.  I wanted to be enough for her to want to live. How could I not be? I was her daughter. She was my best friend. But she didn’t consider any of that.

As always, the anger rushed through my body and replaced itself with any sadness I felt.

“I know that,” I said, taking a step back, away from her grave. “I don’t blame myself. I only blame her.”    

I turned and left, just as I did the day of her funeral, making no plans to come back any time soon. Like mother, like daughter, they say. Those words couldn’t be more true. 

author's note: i'm sorry for delaying this story so much. but i truly appreciate those who have stuck around. i hope you enjoy this chapter. i'm currently writing 29 so i hope to have it up soon. :) please don't forget to comment!

also, i've been keeping a blog for quite some time now. would love if you checked it out :)

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