Waiting At The Cemetary

"I don't like mysteries," I said.

Devon laughed then, as though he saved laughter for a special occasion- to aim at me.

“You don’t have to like it, Missy, but you will go with me and that’s that. I’ve waited a month for you to get off that plane and now you are going with me to the cemetery to see Michael.”

Devon turned the corner, and headed southwest towards the Graceful Pines Cemetery.

“Why won’t you tell me what is going on,” I shifted on the seat. The hot leather was sticking to the back of my legs. “And why can’t you put the top up? You know I don’t like the sun!”

“Grumpy, grumpy,” Devon said. “Lisa, listen, you know I love you, and so did Michael. He wants to see you.”

“He’s dead!” I was trying to wrap a scarf around my head, but the wind from the open car was forcing the scarf in all directions. I was furious with Devon for making me go to the cemetery. I hated them. I hated dead people. “He won’t know if I’m there or not.” The wind caught the scarf and took it from my grasp. “Damn.”

“Of course he will know.”

Devon sounded insulted. He must really believe in the powers of the afterlife. 

The powers of the afterlife, now that’s funny, I had to smile.

“What?” Devon asked.

“I just had a picture of Michael sitting on top of his tombstone, his hand on his hip, going, yeah, well, it’s about time you showed up, girl.

Devon slowed the car. I hadn’t realized how much the wind was stinging my face.

“I do not think that is funny,” Devon said seriously.

“I’m sorry,” and I was. I should not have said it. I knew how much Devon and Michael were in love, and losing your partner like that can be devastating. “I really am sorry, Devon,” I reached for his hand on the gearshift.

“I know, Lisa. It’s okay.”

We reached the cemetery at dusk.

“Won’t they be closing soon?”

“No, that is one of the reasons we chose this place,” Devon punched a code into a small box on the drivers side of the car. “With the code, I can come in anytime to talk with Michael.”

“You come here at night?” I shuddered.

The place was well kept, the greens mowed, and the bushes trimmed, but there was still eeriness about the tombstones and lifeless quiet. I shuddered again. No way I’d come here at night.
We drove around to the far right of Graceful Pines Cemetery. I was wondering why Devon and Michael chose such a secluded spot when he answered my thoughts.

“We didn’t want to be way up here, by the duck pond, but you know how some people are about gay couples…..”

He didn’t finish the sentence with words, just a flip of his hand into the air as though he were shooing away a fly.

The trees were beautiful, and dense. The further we drove in, the darker it became. It was as though the sun were not allowed to pierce the thick foliage and disturb the inhabitants of Graceful Pines.

“Here we are,” Devon announced. We walked up a slight incline to Michael’s grave.

It was a nice headstone, little angels on the corner, and flowers below his name- Michael Ervin Stanley.  We stood silently in front of the stone. I wasn’t sure if Devon wanted me to address the dearly departed, so I remained silent. The darkness grew around us until it was hard to even read Michael’s name.

“So?” I finally ventured. “What was it that you wanted to see?”

“The stone,” Devon declared. His tone indicated his impatience with me. I was obviously not catching on to the meaning of his frustration. I stared harder at the stone.

“What? I don’t see anything wrong.”

“You don’t see anything wrong? You don’t see anything wrong?”

“All right, that’s enough, if you don’t tell me what is wrong with Michael’s tombstone then I’m just going to fly back to New York…..”

“Look at his name!” Devon’s frustration was no longer withheld. He threw himself forward against the stone, pointing out what I was too dumb to see. Michael Ervine Stanly, they put the E in the wrong place!”

“Oh, I see. Yes, yes they did.” I was trying not to snicker about the silliness of the incident. Obviously, it was important to Devon. “Well, can’t you have them fix it? Do you have a flashlight, or something? It is really getting dark out here.”

“I suppose I could make them dig it up and put the E in the right place,” Devon brushed at imaginary dirt on the stone.

“Devon, can we go? It is really getting dark.” I started for the car. “I’ll take you to dinner,” when I looked over my shoulder, Devon was gone. “Devon?” I looked to the right, nothing. “Devon? Ah, come on now, this is not funny. Answer me!”

I heard a noise on the other side of the car. I turned quickly. What was that sound? Like the snap of fingers? Devon is playing games. I continued to the car and opened the glove box searching for a flashlight. There was nothing. Behind me, the noise again. Snap. I looked over my left shoulder; it was too dark to see anything. On my right side, now- Snap.

“Devon, I am very angry with you right now. It is not funny to make people afraid.”

No answer.
Again, the snap- right behind me. I whirled around, coming face to face with Michael. I swallowed hard.

“You haven’t come to see me,” Michael stated flatly.

“See, I told you it mattered,” Devon stood by the driver’s side door.

I tried to breathe. Sucking hard to pull the crisp night air into my lungs, but there was no air. There was no air.

“This is what I wanted to show you,” Devon declared, pointing at Michael. “I was hoping that he would show up again tonight. I don’t care about that E thing. I wanted you to see Michael. Exciting isn’t it?”

“If you loved me, you would come to see me,” Michael stated flatly.

His voice was toneless. I guess it was as dead as he was. I tried to laugh at that revelation, but I still had no air. Devon came around the car and handed me a paper bag.

“How are you feeling tonight, Michael?” Devon asked.

“You must stay and watch,” Michael answered flatly. He turned then and walked away. After he left, the air returned, and the darkness lifted. I suddenly realized that the moon was out, and all about the cemetery were lamps lighting the paths and benches.

“Let’s get out of here,” I grabbed at the door handle trying desperately to open the car.

“He said we had to stay and watch,” Devon said.

“Devon, this is crazy, and probably very dangerous. We have to get out of here,” I managed to open the car door and drop onto the seat. My legs were shaking. “Come on, let’s go. Do you want me to drive?”

Devon turned and walked back toward Michael’s grave.

“Devon? No, No! Come back here.” I ran after him and grabbed his elbow. “We have to go,” I demanded.

Devon smiled. “We have to wait. Michael wants to show us something.”

“Evening folks,” a grounds keeping called. I turned to see a man driving a cart, like those on a golf course; only it didn’t have a top on it. “Just heading up to the greenhouse to put my tools away. You folks okay? Mr. Spurway? Is that you? I didn’t notice you are first.” The man walked toward us. He tipped his hat at me. “Evening, M’am, everything okay?”

“Yes, George everything is fine. We are waiting on Michael; he wanted to show us something.”

Frantically, I looked at George. Would the groundskeeper be crazy as well? He did think that Devon’s behavior was particular, didn’t he?

“Well, you have a lovely evening then.”

“Just a minute,” I finally found my voice. “George, is it? How is it that you are not shocked that my friend, Devon here, is waiting to hear from his DEAD friend, Michael?”

The man turned back and smiled. “Oh, I know it sounds weird. I have sat many a night with Mr. Spurway, waiting on Michael. I’ve heard about their stories, their life together, so I guess I just got used to it, that’s all.” The old man scratched his chin and dropped his arms to his side. He was wearing dirty overalls, stained by the grass and the dirt.

“Have you seen, Michael?” I asked.

Again, George raised his hands and scratched his chin. “Not sure. Once, I thought I caught a glimpse of him, but then I thought maybe it was my rake sitting against a tree.”

“I see, you are both crazy,” I knew that was enough talking. It was time for action. I took Devon by the elbow again and turned him away from the grave. “Devon, you are being a terrible host.”

With that critique Devon raised his eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“I need food. You are being a terrible host not taking me to dinner. Now, why don’t you ask your friend, George here to wait on Michael, and we’ll go get a bite to eat?” I eased him toward the car, hoping he would give in.

“George? Would you mind doing that?” Devon asked.

“No, not at all.”

“You are a good man, George, good man. Come on Devon, let’s go,” I hurried him to the car.

“Oh, wait,” Devon stopped. “We have to tell George to wait all night if he can, we don’t know when Michael will be back.”

“No problem, no problem, I’ll tell him, you start the car.” I rushed back to George and gave him Devon’s message. The grounds keeper nodded as though receiving government orders, and remained steadfast to his watch. It seemed he had well in hand, so I walked away and left him standing there in the moonlight - watching over nothing.