image [https://i.imgur.com/l6NYXLf.png]

As of today, ten years had now passed since Feliz died.

When I woke up that morning, I could’ve hardly even called it ‘waking up’; throughout the night, I simply dipped in and out of consciousness, barely keeping my eyes shut for longer than five minutes at a time.

Now that the sun was spilling into my room, I rose from the tangled mess of bed sheets like a mummy crawling out of a tomb. For hours, there’d been a persistent buzzing in my head, and not even a cup of coffee at its hottest could drown it out. Halfway through my cup, as I was staring out at the Dallas skyline in a daze, it occurred to me: I hadn’t seen Raja at all this morning.

I turned the corner to check the living room, but the couch was unoccupied, pillows carefully arranged as if nobody had ever even been there. Raja’s presence had become such a comfortable fixture in my apartment that without seeing him there, an uneasiness started to take hold.

“Raj?” I called out, setting my cup down on the coffee table.

No answer.

“Raj?” I repeated.

Nothing.

I started scouring the living room trying to find his backpack, his Dallas Cowboys hoodie, any sign that he was still around, but it was like he’d never been there. I threw open the door to the bathroom, but it too was empty.

“Raj!” I said loudly. “Where you at, man?”

Despite forcing myself to breathe steadily, I was suddenly finding the apartment tight and claustrophobic. I couldn’t explain what made Raja’s absence so alarming - it just felt wrong to wander around this empty apartment. To wake up alone again made it feel as if finding him had been a dream, and now I was back in the awful reality where he was gone for good.

When the front door opened out of nowhere, I was so on edge, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Standing there in the doorway was Raja, letters in one hand and keys to my mailbox in the other, wearing his Dallas Cowboys hoodie. The sight of him was like a tranquilizer to my nervous system; the thunderous pulsing in my head subsided, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Raj,” I said wearily. “There you are.”

Raja blinked. “Sorry, were you looking for me? Did you need something?”

“No, no.” I shook my head, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. “Everything’s fine.”

I wiped my hand across my forehead only to find it slick with sweat. My heart rate was taking its time to settle down, so I’m sure I was still rather flushed, despite feeling shaky and bloodless.

“I just… um…” My tongue held my words in a choke hold, keeping them from coming out easily. “I… I didn’t see you around, so…”

“Yeah, I took out the trash and got the mail… it just took me a while ‘cause of this fucking limp.” Raja set the letters down on the counter, approaching me cautiously. “You okay? You look kind of—”

“Well then— where’s your backpack?” I interrupted, still on edge. “This place hardly looks like you’ve been here.”

He pointed to the door down the hall. “I keep it in the closet ‘cause I haven’t been able to make it stop stinking. And since I’ve been staying here, I haven’t really needed to keep my stuff in it since it’s not like you’ll steal it, so…”

With all of the pieces falling together, I nodded. It was embarrassing being unable to figure that out on my own, and I didn’t want to admit to him that I’d simply jumped to the worst case scenario without hesitating, even though it was exactly what I did. I set my hands on my hips, trying to relax, only to notice the concern cast across Raja’s face.

“You okay?” He frowned gently. “You look a little sick.”

I hesitated to meet his stare. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” He came closer and pressed his hand to my forehead, his fingertips cool against my skin. “Woah— you’re running kinda hot.”

“I said I’m fine!” I snapped.

Raja whipped his hand back like he’d touched a stovetop. Regretfully, I hung my head, ashamed to lash out when he was just trying to be nice.

“I’m sorry. I’m just… on edge right now.” I rubbed the back of my neck, smoothing down the raised hairs. “I didn’t sleep well last night. Not that I ever do, but… well…”

Instead of asking for clarification, Raja stared at me, his cheeks hollowing as he bit the insides of them. It took more strength to look at him than I thought it would.

“Today’s the day,” I said quietly. “You know?”

First, a moment of confusion flashed across Raja’s features before a grimness settled in. As if retreating, he crossed his arms against his chest, gripping his elbows so hard his knuckles protruded. He, too, hung his head, unable to look me in the eye.

Without a word, he bumped past me in a trance-like state to get to the couch, dropping himself gracelessly onto the cushions. When he brushed his hair past his face, I could see the tears threatening to spill over.

I wished I hadn’t said anything, even though I knew Raja would’ve figured it out eventually. I followed him to the couch, displacing a pillow so that I could sit close to him, though he recoiled when our knees brushed together.

“Raj.” It was embarrassing just how pathetic I sounded. “Say something.”

“What’s there to say, Manny? What do you want me to say?” His voice cracked in pain. “’Cause all I can think to say is that it sure sucks that a whole fucking decade can pass, and it still feels like only yesterday that I ruined everything.”

I knew it was pointless to interrupt, but I tried anyway. “Raj—”

“Fuck, does it ever get better?” He ran his hands through his hair, clutching it tightly. “Am I ever gonna move past this? Is the pain ever going to stop? Is ‘sorry’ ever going to be enough?”

“I… I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I’m the last person on Earth who could give you advice on how to let it go.”

Raja’s fists shook against his skull before he slammed them down onto his lap. He then lurched forward, burying his face back into his hands, trying purposefully not to look at me. It only made me feel worse.

“This is always a hard day for me too,” I added, my throat dry. “Shit, the first year after he died…”

I couldn’t actually remember what the first anniversary of Feliz’s death was like; I got so drunk, I was sick for two days. I decided it was better not to finish that sentence, choosing instead to mindlessly fidget with the bandage I now kept across the ever-present lump on my arm. Without saying anything, Raja finally turned back to me, and we shared a look that I couldn’t share with anyone else.

Losing Feliz wasn’t just about having him die in my arms, but also the hole that he left behind. With each passing year, everyone else grew around his absence, until that hole was less like a cavern and more like the eye of a needle. Life moved on for everyone else and yet here I was stuck in the past, the only one living in an eternal freeze-frame.

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Even though I knew it was sick of me, I was grateful that Raja knew what it was like. He got me in a way that even Mercy didn’t: she remembered Feliz with a smile on his face instead of a bullet in his chest. She could look at the photos on her walls with fondness instead of nausea, could hear his voice in videos without tearing up. She’d even stopped wearing his wedding ring.

In that moment, something clicked. Luke - and every other man Mercy went out with - was a walking representation of the fact that Mercy moved on and I hadn’t, proof that she hadn’t been gored by the horns of grief as I had. If she could move on, what was my excuse? Or did I want her to hurt because I couldn’t handle being alone with my pain?

I was broken free of my mental spiral by the presence of Raja’s hand running along my shoulder blade, urging me to sit upright. When I did so, we stared at each other in a somber, knowing silence.

“Manny…” Raja seemed too afraid to continue, leaving my name to hang in the air.

He withdrew his hand, and my skin was cooler without it. I didn’t have the guts to object, so I simply sighed.

“You know, having you here…” I swallowed thickly. “It’s gonna make today easier.”

For a split second, he winced, though I didn’t know why. “How?”

“Shit, there’s no way this won’t come out insane, so you gotta bear with me, okay?” I laughed anxiously. “But, um, for all of these years, on this day, obviously, I think of Feliz.”

Raja simply stared at me, waiting, his mouth forming a flat, nervous line.

“But…” I paused. “I thought of you, too. Every year, I thought of you.”

Even though he said nothing, his eyes widened just a bit, then narrowed.

“I never knew what happened to you once you got out of the hospital, so…” I couldn’t stand to keep looking at Raja, so I stared out the window behind him instead. “I kind of treated today like you’d both died.”

To soothe the strange itching that began under my skin, I ran my hands up and down my arms, but it made no difference. It felt like a hundred years passed before Raja finally spoke up, and his voice was so soft, it was almost inaudible. “I wish I did.” He wiped his cheek with his hand, though there was nothing to wipe away. “I should’ve, really.”

“Fuck, don’t say that,” I stammered, heart quickening. “Please.”

“It’s true, though,” he continued; as he spoke, the tears that settled on his waterline began to fall. “I would’ve deserved it. I let him die. I—I’m such a fucking piece of shit—”

Raja couldn’t finish his sentence, he’d gotten so choked up. His hands tightened, knuckles bulging.

“Raj, I’m not doing this, okay? I’m not gonna take this bullshit where you blame yourself when you couldn’t have changed a damn thing.” I tried to be stern, but it was hard when my heart was breaking. “It’s not your fault. And if you had died…”

A headache was forming as I gazed at him so intensely, my eyes burned. I knew better than to act as if I had the right words to say, like I could speak into existence a way to heal the hurt that Raja carried. I wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t well spoken enough. There was only one thing I could think to say.

“Thank God you didn’t die,” I whispered.

As soon as the words left my mouth, Raja's face crumpled. By now, he’d curled into the opposite corner of the couch, as if he felt too guilty to be near me.

In spite of this, I scooted towards him and closed the distance between us, resting my head on his shoulder. On his lap, his hands shook with how tightly he held his fists. When I slid my hand against his knuckles to coax his hand open, I saw thin, red lines where he’d dug his nails into his palm.

Raja made no motion to resist my touch; in fact, he seemed to welcome the feeling of my arms around him. As I held his hand in mine, he brought his other hand to close around it, brushing his thumb along mine in little circles.

Whatever else there was to say felt inappropriate, as if the time had finally come to be quiet. I still had years of things left unsaid still bubbling inside of me, but right now, silence was golden.

･ ･ ･

When the tension had eased, I left Raja back at the apartment to spend the rest of the day with Mercy and Cleo. I didn’t even raise the idea to Raja that he could come with us to Feliz’s grave. Though his tears had finally dried, he wasn’t really in a state to leave the house, and in all honesty, I wasn’t sure if Mercy and Cleo would actually want him there, either.

So I went on without him, unable to understand why it was harder to leave him today than it had been on any other day. At least the mournful tightening in my chest had finally softened by the time I reached Mercy’s house.

Tradition for Mercy and Cleo was to lay out flowers at Feliz’ head stone and then spend the day at Turtle Creek Park, which Mercy tried her best to make happen between her work schedule and Cleo’s school days. They didn’t make as much of a fuss about today as they did on Día de Muertos, where they took candies to ofrendas to pay their respects to him and other departed relatives. Just some flowers and brushing debris away from his head stone; that’s all.

When I drove up to their house, I saw Mercy and Cleo already waiting outside, a big bundle of flowers in Cleo’s arms. They were talking with Mercy’s mother, Lupe, and another woman who couldn’t have been older than her fifties, with short spiky hair dyed engine red.

The second the woman saw me arrive, she motioned broadly to my truck, kissing Mercy and Cleo on their cheeks before sending them off on their way. Once they’d piled in, the woman waved and took Lupe back into the house.

“Who was that again?” I asked after we’d all settled in. “I feel like I’ve seen her before.”

“That’s Yolanda. She lives a couple houses down the street.” Mercy unfolded the mirror from the ceiling to check her makeup. “She agreed to watch Mamá while we were gone, since Joey couldn’t get time off work.”

“You’d like her, Tío!” Cleo chirped. “She’s covered in tattoos just like you!”

“That seems kind of unusual for a woman of her age,” I replied, only half-listening.

From the back seat, Cleo inched towards the middle so she could duck her head between me and Mercy. “She told me she used to be in a gang! Do you think she’s ever been in jail?”

“Cleo!” Mercy shouted. “Even if that were true, why would you go around telling people that?”

“Hey, I think she sounds like a badass already.” I waited for traffic to settle before making my turn. “I always thought you were kinda soft, pecosita. Maybe Yolanda can show you how the cholas do it, eh?”

“Yeah!” Cleo bounced excitedly. “She showed me her switchblade once!”

“Is this why you let her watch after tu Abuelita?” I glanced at Mercy. “’Cause she’s already strapped?”

Mercy heaved a sigh that just about filled up the cab of the truck. “She’s a very sweet lady. She’s been nothing but an absolute angel when it comes to Mamá ‘cause she’s worked at nursing homes before. Respeta a tus mayores, Cleo. I raised you better than this, you know that.”

At Mercy’s lecture, Cleo moved back into her seat, pouting. There had been growing difficulties between them as time had gone on, as if Cleo were an ivy growing out of control that Mercy could no longer cut back. I counted my blessings that I didn’t have to settle things between them more often.

The rest of the drive, we sat in absolute silence - even when I tried to turn the radio on, after two songs, Mercy would shut it back off. In the back seat, Cleo kept to herself, staring out the window without any kind of running commentary. They were both clearly frustrated, but didn’t want to make it obvious to me. What a way to honor your memory, I thought to myself as if Feliz could hear me.

Once we’d found a place to park, the three of us made our way through the scores of gravestones that covered the cemetery, the sun beaming down on the vibrant grass beneath our feet. It was such a bright, beautiful day, it was almost its own tragedy that it was so nice out.

Having died in the line of duty, Feliz was buried in a veteran’s graveyard, so we came across dozens of miniature American flags and other patriotic trinkets as we navigated between the burial sites. Once in a while, I came across a name that seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put anything to it beyond a shadow of a memory.

At Feliz’s grave site, we were met with a scattering of presents, toys and even a bottle of tequila, likely left behind by his cousins. Though Feliz’s family had cut Mercy and Cleo out of their lives shortly after his passing, they still suffered the same loss that we all did, and it was bittersweet to see that they still came by from time to time to see him.

As Mercy and Cleo paid their respects, in the back of my mind I questioned if they’d still do this if - or when - Mercy remarried. Would her new husband approve? Would she care if he did or not? The longer that time went on, would Cleo stop coming by, too? I couldn’t bear being the last one left to carry this torch, even if it made them happier in the long term.

Thankfully, our visit wrapped up quickly. Mercy complained of just how hot it was getting in the afternoon sun, and Cleo agreed that it’d be better to cool off in the shade with some water. Truthfully, I hadn’t even noticed. I was on complete autopilot to the point that I couldn’t even recall what time we’d reached the park; I was stuck thinking of Raja and the weight of his remorse, how heavy the burden was on his shoulders. His scars were just as grisly as mine, and he’d made just as little progress at moving forward as I’d had, even with time on our side.

Maybe what we needed to get better was each other. Maybe we’d be able to move past it if we worked together. Maybe all I needed to close the chapter was to close it with Raja.

At the idea of it, my heart hummed in my chest, and I smiled without even realizing it.