Chapter 51 Her Grave

At the Vueravista Company

"Excuse me, I'm looking for someone,” Kianna said.

“Yes, Miss. Who is it?” the lady asked.

“It is my husband. His name is Ares France Vuertalejo. He works here. I would like to speak to him, but I can’t get through to him. Would you please contact him for me?" Kianna asked, begging them to help her contact her husband.

“We are very sorry, Ma’am, but we can't contact anyone here without an appointment."

“Please help me, maybe just a contact number from his home? He wasn’t at home yesterday, his phone couldn’t be reached, and I was worried about him…” Kianna immediately grabbed her phone and searched for Ares' photos. “Here. This is him. Maybe you know him. He is the secretary of the CEO of this company,” Kianna added.

The two ladies looked at each other with question marks on their faces. “Ma’am, we haven’t seen him in this company.”

“What do you mean, you haven’t seen him?”

“Wait, Ma’am, what is his name again—”

“Ares— Ares France Vuertalejo.” Kianna immediately answered.

"Okay, wait a minute — we will just confirm his attendance. His name is Ares France Vuertalejo?"

"Yes, correct."

The lady at the counter looked at her colleague with confusion. That look makes Kianna more nervous. "It's weird. We don't have this person on our staff list. Are you sure it's Ares France Vuertalejo? And regarding the picture you showed us, although there are many people in the company, we are here every day and we haven't seen that face."

"Yes, Ma'am, as she has said, we haven't seen him here. I have been working here for almost two years, but I haven't seen him before."

"Re-really?" Kianna was stunned. She doesn't know what to do. Everything that she heard made her tremble. "But— but I came here last time. I– I even brought some lunch for him. Right! I also met his colleague, Kyle. Do you know Kyle?"

"Do you mean, Sir Kyle, Ma'am? — Yes, of course, we know him. He is the secretary of this company." The lady answered.

"Ho-how is that possible? My husband is the secretary of this company. He said that to me. He is always working and… and…"

"Ma'am, I am really sorry, but we don't have that name on our list."

Kianna's body started shaking. She bowed her head in front of the two ladies. "Thank you so much — sorry to bother you," Kianna said and left the building immediately.

KIA

I don’t know what to believe anymore. I felt like I was being played by someone I trusted the most. How is this even happening? I didn’t expect this to happen to me. Does that mean that all he said and did was all an act? But… but why? Why did he lie to me? Who is he, exactly?

…I know nothing about him…

I got in a taxi and headed to my favorite location. There are only infinite fields, an occasional flock of trees, and then more fields; there is no small town nearby. A rusted barbed wire fence keeps intruders out of the cemetery. It's been a very long time since my previous trip here. I shudder and button up my jacket when a cool breeze blows by.

As I pass through the cemetery gate, the sun finally pokes its way through the clouds. Its warmth seems like my mother's gentle touch on the back of my head, welcoming me in, reminding me of how much she adored the sun and making me wonder if she still basks in it. Fallen golden maple and crushed yellow birch leaves cover the lawn. Like the dead, they sleep and deteriorate. A dilapidated white structure in the shape of a church is to the right. The majority of the windows are shattered, and the paint is flaking. There are wooden steps leading up to a lockable door in the front. I selected a flower next to me and carried on going.

…This place looks so different from before…

When I get to the cemetery, I see that the majority of the headstones have been worn down and ruined over time. Perhaps some of their relatives completely forsook them. I proceed to my mother's tombstone. There are withered grasses and flowers all over the place. My face was covered in crystal-like tears as I approached her grave. My feet crunched across the dirt. I knelt down while holding the flowers and turned to face the grave. I used my hand to clean up the debris on his grave. I was content to simply ponder the grave. Consider all the wonderful recollections.

“Hi, mom! It’s been a long time since the last time I visited you here. How are you?”

My mom never sings for anyone at all, but back when I was still a child, I freaked out because of a bad dream, so she sang until we stopped crying. That is my best memory of my mom, and it was the last time I heard her sing. I miss the time when she made me a breakfast of fresh strawberries mashed in milk the first time our family went on vacation together in Baguio. It’s just like she's always teaching me the many ways to enjoy the simple pleasures life has to offer.

“Are you doing well there? I hope you are happy wherever you are. I don’t want you to suffer the way I did,”

I set the flower down after recalling all the pleasant times we had spent together. The emotion-trap door opens, and tears start to fall as I stand in front of her stone and recite the lovely psalms. There isn't a location like it for me.

“…But, don’t worry, mom, I’m fine. You might be wondering why I didn’t go here with Dad today. Well, he is having his best life with someone else already. I left the house, and mom, guess what? I am married!”

I can think about her, talk to her, and ask for advice while I'm standing by her grave, away from the commotion and pressures of the outer world. There are no messages blaring; it is simply a quiet space. I bend down and stroke the corner of the stone with my fingers as I imagine her face being stroked and her eyes on mine burning with parental love. With desire, I sigh. I couldn't stop the tears from coming out of my eyes once they started. I spoke quietly to the grave. After all, it's been a while since I last visited this place.

“I’m so sorry for not letting you know. I’m just kind of busy lately, and I don’t have the time to visit you. His name is Ares. I don’t know if that is even his real name. Things got complicated between us lately. He left me without any reason. I tried finding him, but all I found was the truth — I was so devastated, and I want someone to comfort me, but I don’t know where to go, Mom.” A great sense of weariness sweeps over me, sucking my energy with it. The words are strangling in my throat. My heart is flooded with sadness right now.

“I wish you were still here with me. I miss your voice, your hugs, your kisses—I miss everything about you.”

Before leaving, I stayed for a while to attempt to calm down. Visiting my mother's grave gives me a strong sense of comfort and connection, even though I know she isn't physically there and that her spirit is nestled among the angels. When I consider it, it is peculiar. In movies and books, cemeteries are always shown to be filled with ghouls and full of dead people. My mother was warm and energetic, bubbling with energy and spirit, unlike a tombstone, which is cold and concrete.