Three
Date: October 27th, 2011
Time until alienation: 19 hours

Needless to say I left the pier pretty quick. Although my Chevy was ancient, it still could speed off if I needed it to. A kilometer away from the pier, I relaxed, my knuckles no longer white, and turned on the music. The FM radio crackled as a voice said, "You're listenin' to KWY Meoooosic. Here's a song even the younger generation knows: Don't Stop Believin'." Journey started to sing through the prehistoric device, and I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel.

"Thank you, Stevie," I said, referring to the lead singer. "I'm Perry grateful."

Yeah, I know. I suck at puns, even when I'm alone.

I turned onto Chestnut Shade Drive and slowly started to turn down Perry's cry of belief. My father had always told me to be respectful of the dead, which meant turning down Perry until his normally loud voice was barely more than a whisper. I slowed the Chevy to a crawl of 10 kilometers per hour as the paved road became gravel. Parking to the side of the road, so cars could pass, I turned the Chevy off and got out, shutting the door behind me as quietly as human possible. I stepped out onto the grass of Chestnut Shade Cemetery.

It was a quiet little place, over a hundred years old. Jacob Strangler used to say to the kids in Grade One that it was built by Mayans, but I never fell for it because I wasn't so gullible. There were few of those ancient graves left, but they were all crumbly and disintegrating, the words carved in illegible and misshapen by time and the elements. Then there were the fancier headstones, the ones made out of the finest marble, their letter engraved with the most recent laser technology.

I wasn't headed for one of those giant fancy ones, the ones adorned with even fancier statuettes and fake flowers. I was headed for a smaller one, one set in the ground. I found it soon enough; my feet knew where to go. I looked down at the face set in the stone with that same laser technology. The girl in the image was smiling, as if she was greeting me from the grave, welcoming me; Hey, Terry. How've you been? Above her stone was a bundle of fresh flowers, guarded by a tiny statue of a cherub.

My sister died of leukemia, when she was just seven years of age. I was three years her senior, but she was still my best – my only – friend. I visited her every day and had to be yanked from her side when visiting hours ended. I bawled like a baby at her funeral, and blocked the men from closing her coffin; she won't be able to breathe in there, I had said. Let her breathe.

As I grew older, I knew my sister wasn't sleeping. She was gone, and I missed her terribly every day. Since her funeral, I have never cried, not even when Jack from Titanic s (and that was emotional). I've never even shed a tear while visiting my sister at Chestnut Shade Cemetery.

I crossed myself and said a prayer. I prayed for rain; she loved rain. I finished my prayer and closed it with another cross. I bent down and cleared away the debris and the grass that had begun to creep over the stone, and, when finished, straightened and said good-bye to my little sister.

I made my way back to my Chevy. FU kicking in, I relieved myself behind a tree, sending a man nearby fleeing in terror. Zipping my fly, I hopped in the Chevy and started the engine. Perry's voice had been replaced by a more somber Simon and Garfunkel;

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

I drove aimlessly for a long time, seemingly confused. I had no idea what I was going to do, and so I just listened as KWY went through its list of R&B songs. I ended up going home and taking a long, hot shower. The radio in my bedroom called out to me with a voice that sounded like Whitney Houston;

I hope life treats you kind
And I hope you have all you've dreamed of.
And I wish to you, joy and happiness.
But above all this, I wish you love.

And I will always love you.
I will always love you.
I will always love you.
I will always love you.
I will always love you.
I, I will always love you.

I got out and shook my hair dry like a dog. I pulled on a pair of clean white boxers and trod to my room, shutting off the radio. I slowly crawled into the bed and pulled the white covers up to my chin. Glancing at the clock, it showed me the time in a soft, red glow; 9:20 p.m. I had been out longer than I thought. I sighed, wearily, like my father used to do when he came home from the firm. I clicked off the light, rolled over, and slowly drifted into the waves of my inner conscious.