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Dillon
June 21.
This day marked thirteen years since the worst day of my life. The day I lost my grandparents to the selfishness of the world and their own tribulations.
Many people question why I claim to love and hate my grandfather equally, and it was because I held him responsible for the way he and grandma passed away. He had the power to prevent it, even to delay it. After all, he was Neil Xander, but revenge took precedence. Settling scores was more important, and for that, my hatred endures.
But while I had that feeling, I’d always love him. He should’ve been my dad. He believed me when I told him anything. He got me the help I needed. I never wanted to be away from him even when he was doing the most ruthless things in the world. I loved him.
He left a dozen businesses and enough money to buy the world, but I didn’t just take it. I invested, I fixed every blunder made and got back all his clients who he had screwed over. I didn’t do it for me; I did it for him.
I was just twenty when it happened, and Mara was eighteen. I remember it like it was yesterday.
We were so excited to come home and spend summer vacation with them. They had planned for the four of us to spend the summer at the lake house, and we were excited. It never mattered what we did or where we went, as long as we were with our grandparents.
Ms. Lauren, our old nanny, was a better mom than Amy ever was. While my mom tended to her other children, she always forgot Mara and I. We were always put last, but never by Ms. Lauren and, as of late, Mrs. Emerson. Ms. Lauren was such a sweetheart, and I sometimes find myself missing her or missing the role she played in my childhood.
We got home from school, and Ms. Lauren sat by the patio looking lost. It was never normal to see her that way. Even at eighteen years old, I was still a bit dependent on her. We ran to give her hugs, and she burst the news to us. I felt like my life was ending. I no longer had the will to live, and suicide crossed my mind a few times.
They left notes for Mara and I, and up to this day, I have mine framed. Whenever I need strength, I read the notes, or I look at my tattoo. Amy may have carried me in the womb and Tim just provided the sperm, but it was really Miss. Lauren, Grandma, and Grandpa who raised us.
I woke up feeling excessively down. There was no source of happiness for me. Azzaria still hadn’t texted me or reached out to me, and my grandparents were dead. Every day I hoped that their death was just a joke, but it was real.
It was Mara and my tradition to visit the cemetery four times every year. On the anniversaries of their death, their birthdays, the day they got married, and one other day when we really needed guidance from them.
I was never as tough as I was portrayed, and as much as I wanted to hold it together, I couldn’t do that today. Between the guilt of their death and the burden of not knowing if Azzaria was safe or not, I was crumbling.
Behind all the layers of the enigmatic billionaire tycoon mogul was just a person who has been through too much at a young age. A person who had to keep his barriers up so he doesn’t get too much hurt. And one who all he wanted was love and got everything but.
But the world would never get to know me like this; as far as I was concerned, they didn’t deserve it.
I grabbed the box of stuff, my car keys, and went downstairs. To avoid contact and conversation with anyone at this moment, I took the back exit. That was an upside of living in the penthouse of a building I owned.
The minute I realized Azzaria and I were getting serious and that the media would be a problem, I had the contractors build a back exit which took us straight down via stairs. It was a lot of walking, but there’s no price too much to pay for privacy.
My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles turned white. I wanted to get this day over with, but I also needed it to last forever. The only thing we had when people died were the memories they once left us with, and while mine were clouded and disturbed, the ones of them were pure and innocent as they should be.
I drove up to the cemetery parking lot and saw Mara standing outside of her car. She had boxes in her hand, and by the look of it, Alex and Isaiah were sitting inside. I quickly got out and made my way over to them.
“Hey, little sis,” I greeted her with a warm hug and a kiss on the side of her face. She was the only other person in this world who has seen me through everything, and I remember the first time I shed blood was because of her. And that was a murder I’d always be proud of.
She hugged me back and said, “Hey, are you ready?”
“I hope so,” I said and nervously laughed, “Hey Alex, what’s up?”
“I’m good. Be safe today, guys, and call me if anything. Isaiah and I will be at my mom’s house today,” he said. He was mainly directing his words to Mara.
Mara and Alexander hid their relationship from me for a year. I knew my sister was dating, but she didn’t tell me that she was dating one of my closest friends. I found out the night she and I were hanging out and he rang her cell. I didn’t care who she dated, I just didn’t want to see her hurt.
Five years later, they’re married, still in love, and have a son. I’m happy for them, even if I don’t show it.
“You didn’t tell me you were taking him there,” she said, sounding a bit angry.
“I know, but I just thought it would be a good idea, babe,” he shrugged, fixing Isaiah in the car seat.
“You think a lot lately, but whatever,” she rolled her eyes, walked closer to the car and turned her focus to Isaiah, “Mommy will see you later, okay, my golden boy. I love you so much.” She kissed him goodbye, and we walked off.
After five more minutes of walking, we stood right before their headstone. The one thing our parents did right was ensure that they were buried side by side. They were completely inseparable as lovers, and what was even more heartwarming was the fact that they were best friends.
