skinny || h.s. au [Rewrite Now Up!]

fortyfive

Standing in the middle of a graveyard is always depressing. But even more so if the person in the ground, directly in front of your feet, is someone you knew. Someone you cared about.

Even if you didn't want to.

Marley had nearly dropped her small, cheap flip phone when she got the call. Her mother had just sent her a letter a few weeks prior. She has said she was getting better and would come home soon.

But now she's gone.

The wind whips through Marley's hair. And she shivers deeper into her coat. Her cheeks are dry, but her chest feels like she's cried a thousand tears.

The soft hum behind her shuts off. And she doesn't have to turn around to know Harry is getting out of his car. And walking over to her.

Marley told him to wait. She wanted to be alone when she first saw her mother's grave. But she still needed a ride, so she called him.

"You've been standing here for twenty minutes, love." He stands next to her and speaks softly. As if she may shatter if his words slip past his lips too harshly. Or if his voice carries too loud and somehow bounces off the trees.

She doesn't say anything. Just stares at the tombstone which holds the name of the woman she didn't get to know. Not really. Not the way you're supposed to know your own mother.

Harry takes the scarf around his neck and places it on her small shoulders. And takes an extra beanie from his coat pocket. Much like the one on his head, except this one is royal blue, and his is olive green.

He pulls it on her head, over her ears. She lets him.

Because it's cold and she's cold and her mother's body is cold.

And dead.

And in the ground.

He slides his hand up and down her back twice before saying, "I'll be in the car, okay?"

"Wait," she says. And decides despite her previous request to be alone, she doesn't want to be.

Because it's cold and she's cold and her mother's body is cold.

And dead.

And in the ground.

"Just... stand here with me? For a minute?" She asks.

But it's not really a question. Or at least it shouldn't be. Because whatever she wants, he will give it to her.

And if she wants to be alone at nine o'clock on a cold Wednesday morning as she stands in front of her mother's grave, he will wait patiently in the car. With her seat warmer on high for when she climbs back in, shivering. And if she wants him to stand out there with her, then he will. Even after his fingers and toes go numb and the tip of his nose turns pink from the chill.

"Of course." Harry says. Follows her gaze to the tombstone. Sort of wishes he could have met her. But then again he thinks Marley would have been mortified of the idea.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth to keep it from shaking. She doesn't want to cry over someone who left her. She doesn't want to cry over someone who doesn't deserve to hold any piece of her anymore.

So she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.

As the wind picks up, she steps closer to Harry's side. He wraps his arms around her to shelter her slightly from the cold.

They don't say anything. Marley just stares at her mother's name. Sharri M. Parker. And the dates below it that show she died just one year shy of forty.