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Her brows draw as I shake my head at her utter ignorance. “I’ve paid dearly for your lies, for his mistakes, and I still am.”
“What do you mean?”
The decision comes easy.
“I guess we all have our secrets, Mom.” Stalking off, I make a beeline for my car. It’s when I slam my door I catch sight of her gazing on at me from the side of the house as I tear out of the driveway.
Urn in my hands, I stand at the edge of the garden and try to imagine what it would have been like to grow up in this house. Images of me running around as my parents sat and watched me play. Posing for pictures with my prom date under the canopy of wisteria as my mother snapped away while Roman eyed him in warning, demanding I be home by curfew. Coming down the stairs on Christmas morning to open presents next to a crackling fire. In my year here, I remember more than once picturing a family here, a happy family, and thinking the house had gone to waste, but that’s precisely what the house represented—the life we could have had.
“You were the first man to break my heart, and I guess it’s fitting. But you didn’t have to. You didn’t have to punish us both. I came here to collect your fortune, but I would give every dime back for just a few minutes with you. Just to tell you I may not ever understand you fully, but in discovering what you did, I felt like your daughter for the first time in my life.”
My breath hitches as I remember my dream from last night, a little girl reaching for her father’s hand over and over only to come up empty.
“But I refuse to be the coward you were. That’s what you taught me. I won’t make your mistakes. I’d rather be reckless and in love than die safe without a real legacy. And it has nothing to do with money or position. I think that’s what you realized. I just wonder when you did.” I crumble a little where I stand. “At least I now know you were capable, and that’s something. But you didn’t build this home in vain. This is the place where I was the happiest I’ve ever been, so I’m sharing it with you.” I open the urn and scatter the ashes in the whipping wind, they catch on a gust and carry for a few feet before disbursing amongst the withered branches of the vines. And for a brief moment, I picture Roman in the fully bloomed garden, mourning the woman he loved and the daughter he abandoned, and with that image, I make peace with the house, haunted by the family that never existed.
The ground rattles with another coming storm as I make my way toward the grave. I study the headstones next to Dominic’s as I grieve the people I feel I now know, two lives my parents took, creating two orphaned boys who would grow up angry, confused, and set on vengeance. My future lovers, teachers, two men who loved me wholly and sacrificed themselves to keep me safe.
It’s all wrong—all of it.
I let myself mourn as I kneel at Dominic’s grave, my hands on the frozen ground.
Grief engulfs me as I sob out my apologies.
Dominic’s beautiful face flashes across my thoughts.
And with the rising of the wind, I swear I feel him, a cool blanket that envelops me as I finally ask the question I’ve never dared to. “Forgive me? Please, forgive us.”
“Make him happy.”
“Take care of her.”
Would he be angry to know neither of us did what he asked, what he wanted? Neither of us honored his sacrifice. Instead, we let his absence be the reason for our demise.
“Il ne me laisse pas l’aimer. Il ne me laisse pas essayer. Je ne sais pas quoi faire.” He won’t let me love him. He won’t let me try. I don’t know what to do.
“I’d give anything to go back, to be braver. I was so scared. I was such a coward, and you died. You died…I never got to tell you how much I loved you. How much you meant to me, how much you changed me. How much I respected you. You were so brave, Dominic, and so strong. I was so privileged to know you. To love you. As much as you tried, you were never a forgettable man. I will miss you every day of my life.” I press my hand to my chest.
“Attends-moi mon amour. Jusqu’à ce que nous nous revoyions. Jusqu’à ce que nous puissions sentir la pluie sur nos deux visages. Il doit y avoir une place pour nous dans la prochaine vie. Je ne veux pas d’un paradis où je ne te vois pas.” Until we meet again. Until we can feel the rain on both our faces. There has to be a time for us in the next life. I don’t want any part of a heaven where I don’t see you.
At the gate, I glance back at his grave one last time.
“A bientôt. Merci.” Until then. Thank you.
I close his office door just as he ends his phone call, his eyes blazing down my body in careful inspection before he darts them away. Guilt.
He stands and swallows, turning to look out his window. He has a view of the top of the plant and most of Triple Falls. It strikes me then I feel indifferent about him taking my father’s place. In a way, it seems just.
“I came to you yesterday, and you weren’t there.”
Did he think I left? From the looks of him, he did. But I don’t let it deter me.
“We need to talk.”
He turns to me, sliding his hands in his tailored pants. “Did I hurt you?”
“You know you didn’t.”
He looks back out the window. “I don’t know anything.”
