36. Time to Let Go

                                    

                                          
Libby pulled into the empty car park. She stopped the engine and stared through the windscreen.   The weather was a direct contrast to how it had been on that horrible day, the last time she had been here. Back then it had raining so hard, today the sun was shining brightly, her skin was already clammy and it was only 9 am.  She sat there wondering if she'd made a mistake coming here.   Why was she even here? He wasn't here. He wasn't anywhere anymore.  
Eventually she opened the car door and got out.  She had to do this.  If she didn't she would regret it.  She locked the car behind her and began her walk across the gravel car park.  She entered there cemetery and headed towards the corner where she knew he lay. Passing dozens of graves,  she finally found the one she was looking for.   
His marble headstone stood out from all the others. It was bright white, someone had obviously been cleaning it regularly, probably his mum.   There were a big bunch of yellow and white carnations in the sunken vase in front of it. She felt so guilty that she hadn't been to visit him since the funeral.  It had been too painful at first,  and then she'd moved to Germany when she'd got the job with Mike.   
She knelt down next to the headstone and placed her right hand on it.  It was stone cold, rather fitting for a gravestone,  she thought wryly.  
"Hey Brandon, it's me, Libby."  She gave a small laugh.  She felt ridiculous talking to a grave and a patch of grass. Brandon wasn't there, it was just his body,  but she'd felt an urge to talk to him, to tell him how her newly discovered feelings for Seb were tearing her apart.  
She felt consumed by her guilt, she'd promised Brandon she would never love again, and she'd meant it.  When he'd died she'd wished she'd died with him.  He'd been her everything.  She'd thought it was impossible to love anyone else like that.  She'd been wrong.  She loved Seb like that, in fact the love she felt for Seb was even deeper and stronger.   She hadn't intended on falling in love with him, but she couldn't lie to herself any longer.  She loved him, and if she was completely honest, she'd loved him for a while.  She was head over heels, madly in love with him, and she didn't know what she was going to do about it.   Seb had been clear from the start that he would never love again, that this was only about sex. She'd broken the rules.   Could she carry on having casual sex with him now that she'd fallen in love?  Could she give herself to him knowing that he would never feel the same way?
"I'm so sorry Brandon," she whispered, tears steaming down her face.  "I miss you so much. I love you, I always will, but I....I met someone and he's turned my world upside down.  He's made me smile again.   I didn't mean to, but I've fallen hard for him.   I feel so guilty. I promised you I would never love again and  I've  broken that  promise.  I couldn't stop myself.  I denied my feelings for so long but I can't do it anymore.  Since you died I've been dead inside and he's brought me back to life Brandon. I don't know what to do....I can't just forget that we ever happened.  You were such a big part of my life.  You were the first man I loved. You were the first man, the only man,  that loved me. I can't just move on, no matter how much I love Seb can I? Because I promised you Brandon. I promised you and I can't deal with this...how can I move on and be happy when you're here, in this grave? You don't get to be happy....."  By now her body was shaking with her sobs.  
"He was happy.  You made him happy Libby.  He loved you so much."
Libby jumped, she hadn't heard anyone approaching.  She turned her head and looked up at the dark haired woman stood behind her.  Brandon's mum. 
"Donna, I...". Her voice trailed off.  What could she say?   She hadn't seen any of Brandon's family since the day of the funeral.  It had hurt too much.  They'd kept in touch, sending Christmas and birthday cards, but that was it.  She was shocked by how much Donna had aged in two years.  She guessed losing a child would do that to a woman.