𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

𝟱𝟲. 𝗦𝗵𝗼𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴

-Flashback-

I'm careful with where I step. Over the pavement and far from the grass, in between the cracks of the cements, hopping over pots of dead flowers and teddy bears until I find the stone with her name. Eleanor May Hampton.

Where the others are charcoal, Eleanors grave stone is pebble grey. Clean, glossy, fucking sparkling. I bend to my knees and offer a greeting prayer whilst my pocket burns with velvet. I pull the box out, flip the lid and study the ring behind. The cut, the diamonds, the way it catches the light at certain angles.

"Do you think she'll like it?" I think out loud, the birds tweet. Maybe that's a yes.

"She talks about you, Eleanor. All the time. It kills me everytime she says your name because I forget we can't get up and come visit you. She makes it sound like we can though, she keeps you alive." birds tweet again.

"I know she knows you're never coming back, but you'll always live in her. And if you're anything like your daughter," I look down at the ring, suddenly feeling lost for words. "If you're anything like your Beau, then perhaps you'd own a piece of my heart too." I shut the ring box. Leaves fly. I stand to leave, my hand against the marble, her name lying beneath my palm.

"I'll look after her, I promise." and then I begin to walk away, unsure of whether I'll ever choose to share this experience with Beau.

"And I'll take a picture for you." are my final words, because the only one that deserves to see Beau on her own wedding day is her mother. And I can't imagine how that must feel. For both of them.

__ __ __

Present day:

It's been seven days since I proposed, if you can even call it that; and at least a triple that since the idea of a ring first entered my head.

Reactions to our news went as accurately as I had expected. Tears, excitement, part confusion and quarter offence from Mikey for not getting first word. No one knew, including myself.

The ring arrived three days before we set out for Chicago. I was never going to set something up to ask the question so I brought it along just in case the moment arose, and it did. I only have Mikey to thank for the cigarette idea after he gave one to Beau in that hot tub, the rest was off the top of my head, whatever felt right.

Micheal was shocked to hear I'd put a ring on his just about eighteen year old daughter, but didn't seem to show much apprehension or advice to the possibility of his youngest girl getting married.

I didn't ask him, of course. Beau may be on the road to forgiveness but I'm not. That's her dad. Her father figure. The man that took care of her not me. I own no loyalties towards him, and after what he did I don't think I ever will. Some people forgive, some people forget and some do both. I choose to do neither.