“Even though we’d never met, somehow, I felt closer to Amanda than anyone else in my family. I’d talk to her during my cemetery visits, tell her about my teenage problems, ask her for advice. She almost felt like a spiritual guide to me. And I truly felt she was the one that brought Allison and me together that day.”
“That’s really powerful. You know she’d be proud of you, Jake.”
“It’s hard coming here after all the time away. I know it’s not the same kind of loss you had, since you actually grew up day to day with your brother.”
“But it’s just as significant. You don’t have the memories I have, which might make it even harder because there are no happy moments to cling to.”
“I’d bring flowers every time. I didn’t have a pot to piss in back then, but I always scrounged up enough money to buy some. I wanted her to be surrounded by nice things, wanted her to feel loved if she were to look down and see me here. I should’ve stopped somewhere and gotten some today on the way, actually.”
“Don’t feel bad. It’s really cold. They wouldn’t last.” Nina kneeled down and put her hand on my shoulder. “In a way, even though she’s not around, I bet she’s taught you a lot.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at how you are. You’re an old soul, so wise. You are who you are because of the losses you’ve sustained. You’ve channeled those into a positive attitude about life, while others like me, have let stress manifest into other things. Your sister…her death…have taught you to live in the moment and to not take things for granted.”
“Life is too short not to be happy. I’ve learned that only recently.” I turned to her and words that hadn’t meant to be spoken aloud escaped me, “I want to be happy again.”
After a long silence, she said, “You make me happy.”
I rubbed the tip of my finger along her cheek. It felt as if my sister’s spirit was giving me strength. Amanda would want me to be happy, to live life to the fullest because she couldn’t. That realization gave me the courage to say something I hoped I wouldn’t regret. “You make me happy, too, Nina. If nothing else, please always know that.”
She gave me only a slight smile, seeming to understand the cryptic undertone in the last part of my admission. “Thank you for bringing me here, for showing me this and other important parts of your life. One step at a time.”
“One step at a time,” I repeated. That would have to be my mantra over Christmas.
Nina took off her necklace.
“What are you doing?”
“Here’s the flower that you didn’t bring.” The charm on the necklace was a rose inside of a heart. “This one will last forever.” She stuck it in the dirt, partially burying it into the ground. “Let it be a gift from me to Amanda, to thank her for helping shape you into the person you are. Without that, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
I wasn’t even going to argue with her because the gesture was so incredibly sweet. “Thank you, Nina.”
We stayed for about ten more minutes. In that time, I showed her a photo of Amanda that was tucked away in my wallet. She couldn’t believe how much my sister and I resembled each other.
I kissed my hand before placing it on Amanda’s stone and whispered, “I’ll come back again soon. I promise. I love you, sis.”
When we got back into the cab, Nina turned to me. “I’d like to visit her again with you someday.”
I smiled. “You mean you’ll willingly get on another plane to come here with me?”
She grinned. “You’d probably have to go down on me again.”
***
The remaining hours of the trip were spent talking and eating while nestled inside a booth at Bernie’s Diner until the sun set. We were surrounded by nostalgia, from my father’s favorite song playing on the mini jukebox (Crimson and Clover, which also ironically happened to be a favorite of her brother’s) to the milkshakes and burgers I’d grown up on.
By the time we left for the airport, my stomach was full, but it was no comparison to the fullness in my chest. Knowing that Nina was heading home tomorrow to upstate New York for Christmas break and that I was planning to tell her everything after she returned made me wish there were such a thing as a slow motion button in life. Or maybe a pause button.
I’d never been so happy and scared at the same time. Those feelings reached their peak during the plane ride home. Nina and I had an entire middle row of the Boeing 777 to ourselves. It was dark with minimal lighting and eerily quiet. Unlike our earlier flight which was full to capacity, this plane was nearly empty.
Nina’s nerves were kicking in but not at the same level as before. Selfishly, I’d looked forward to takeoff because I’d been dying to touch her all afternoon and had been waiting for an excuse to hold her hand again. I had no plans to let go tonight.
As the plane taxied down the runway, our hands were locked together tightly. She was breathing heavily and trembling a little but not hyperventilating this time, probably because the experience wasn’t completely unknown to her anymore. When the plane ascended, she closed her eyes and whispered something to herself. Her chest was rapidly rising and falling. Unable to control the need to comfort her, I leaned into her during the takeoff, resting my chin on her shoulder because I knew this was the scariest part of the flight for her.
She calmed down a little once the plane was level again, but her hand was still trembling. Once we were cruising for a while, the flight attendant came by with a drink cart. I placed the order for both of us before Nina had a chance to speak. “Two red wines, please.” I whispered in her ear, “It will help you relax.”