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Instead, Tara and my doctor prescribed a vacation. As in travel for fun, travel without any business meetings. Relax. They said if I didn’t take a break, I’d just start a downward spiral that would lead to serious, irreversible health problems. I rolled my eyes, but after Ainsley, Mr. Delancey, and Everett conspired together and badgered me for weeks on end, I gave in. “Purely for a change of scenery,” was the reason I gave.
While going alone was ultimately my decision, there was also a bit of reverse psychology involved. Tara kept sending me articles about “travel therapy,” then articles about solo travel, then loads of articles about group wellness retreats. The only thing worse than traveling alone is traveling with strangers, so I overreacted and picked solo travel.Then I panicked further, closed my eyes, pointed to a map, and picked the Maldives as my destination. Making travel plans in a state of anxiety is not the best course of action.
Everett glances over at me.
“You will be totally fine, Laina,” he says. “I would say no outright if it wasn’t going to be okay.”
I lean my head in my hand against the car window. “I’m going to miss you though,” I say. Friends say that. It’s not too forward.
Everett gives me a soft, half grin. “It’s good you’re going, you need some space from all of us. Be lonely, it’ll help you.”
Be lonely? That sounds awful. I’m used to the constant, consistent presence of Ainsley and Mr. Delancey at the office and Everett, well, everywhere. For almost four years.
I take a deep breath and catch a whiff of roses. Three years, seven months. Oh no.
“Did I just almost forget?” I ask out loud, sitting upright.
“I wouldn’t let you,” says Everett. Now I notice we’re following a familiar route through the city and it’s not towards the airport. I check the back seat and sure enough, there are two bouquets of deep crimson roses with wide black ribbon tied around the stems.
“Thank you,” I say, moved that Everett remembered this for me. “Thank you so much. You are so thoughtful.”
“Of course,” he murmurs back, like it’s no big deal. But it is to me. My heart squeezes with emotion.
When we pull into the cemetery, I’m swimming in shame that I nearly left on vacation, forgetting it was the monthly anniversary of my parents’ passing, forgetting to come see them. It hits me in a weird part of my heart. Will I do this forever? But I never want to stop coming back to this touchpoint. It’s a reminder of how and why I am what I am.
Everett parks the car, does a quick scan of our surroundings, then comes around to my side and opens the door for me. He gets the roses out of the back seat and eases them into my waiting arms.
I walk up the small grassy hill alone, stepping on the pavers to avoid my heels sinking down. Standing in front of their side-by-side stones, I exhale, soft and weak. The previous bouquets have been cleared away and the names, “Henry Conrad Ernest Milenna” and “Irene Louise Lee Milenna,” carved into the marble are stark and sharp. I close my eyes to picture them.
Mom: beautiful, elegant, loving.
Dad: smart, shrewd, charismatic.
I picture the day before they left, all of us congregating in the kitchen. Dad making us laugh with a joke he heard in a board meeting. Mom casually kneading bread dough like a modern-day pioneer. Them kissing in passing. It was idyllic. It was perfection. It was a dream.
I am what’s left of that.
The routine of my visit clicks into place: set down the roses, run my fingers over their inscriptions, press a kiss to each of their names.
I sniffle and shove my fists in my coat pockets, finding something crinkly and plastic in my right pocket - a pack of tissues that wasn’t there this morning. I glance over my shoulder at Everett, slowly pivoting from left to right, watching over me. He really does think of everything.
I wipe my nose, dab at my eyes. Okay, this is it. Time to leave. Time to go. The worst part is walking away, but I manage because what other option is there?
We drive to the airfield in silence. Everett parks next to my private jet and I muster my best “all is fine” bravado as I get out, gathering my coat around me.
“Take care of this for me,” I say, passing my phone to Everett. I promised to completely disconnect while on this trip, but leaving my phone is like cutting the anchor of routine off my boat of sanity.
He tucks my phone into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. “Take care of yourself. Rest well.”
I put my hand on his arm, hoping I can siphon some strength from his solid biceps.
“You too, Ev.”
I hazard a glance at his eyes as the pilot starts warming up the engines. I’m walking onto the plane without my bodyguard, going somewhere without my shadow, and it’s no easy feat.
Everett looks on the verge of saying something, but instead he takes a small step forward and puts his hands on my shoulders. Warmth runs through my coat, down my arms, reassuring me. I cup my hands around his arms, just above his elbows. Are we hugging? Is this a hug for us?
As I’m about to step back, he looks down at me at the last moment. There’s something different in his eyes, something vulnerable. Butterflies take flight in my stomach. I’ve never had to say goodbye to him before, not like this. I don’t know what to do or say.
