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Dominic shuts off the car and rests his forehead against the steering wheel before a deep sigh leaves his mouth. “Stassia…I’m so sorry.”
“For…what?”
“For what I’m about to tell you…” Tears pool in his eyes but they dissipate when he clears his throat. “Your mom…” he chokes out.
And instantly my worst fear comes to life.
The funeral falls on the coldest, rainiest day of April. My teeth chatter together as we sit beneath the tent at the gravesite and I chastise myself for not wearing a heavier coat like my grandmother advised. I pull the black jacket tighter around me and bounce my legs both out of nerves and to warm my bare legs. I hear sniffles around me every few moments and Dominic grips my hand tighter as if to sayI’m here.I can tell he’s trying to keep it together for me, but I haven’t cried yet and his eyes won’t stop watering.
“I can’t…I can’t fix it. I’m so sorry.” He says this over and over under his breath.
I still don’t cry despite hearing the emotion in his voice. I don’t know why I’m not having that reaction when I loved my mother more than anyone in the world. But the tears don’t come. I don’t even feel the familiar prickle. I feel numb. Hollow. Like I’m in a dream where feelings and sensations don’t exist. I let go of Dominic’s hands and pinch myself for the hundredth time in the past week.God, are you sure I’m not dreaming?
It’s been a week since my mother died and I haven’t shed a tear. I haven’t spoken much either. Dominic has all but begged me to see someone, as he thinks I’m internalizing my feelings, but every time I tell him no, I don’t want to see anyone. When I’m ready to talk, I will and I’m not ready to talk even though the news spread quickly at my school and everyone was trying tobe there for me.
The wife of the principal and mother of a student, killed in a car accident, has everyone lending their support. My phone still hasn’t stopped buzzing and I know that if I turn around, there will be several students and teachers standing just behind the tent, all doing their best to give strength and support to me and my stepfather.
I look up at the man who’s been through this once before. A man who at only forty, has now been a widowertwice.My heart hurts for him just as much as it does for me. I may have had my mother for nearly eighteen years but he’s only had her for seven. Neither seemed fair.
My eyes pull away from my stepfather as something just to the left of the tent catches my attention. Well,someone. He’s dressed in black slacks and a gray overcoat over a turtleneck. Glasses are perched on his nose and his brown hair is slicked back completely. He looks like someone from the mob who’s fallen into a Ralph Lauren catalogue. Everything about him screams, ‘stay the fuck away’ and yet, I can’t keep my gaze from moving back to him. There’s almost a familiarity about him but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“Dominic,” I whisper and his eyes snap to mine instantly despite the preacher asking us to bow our heads in prayer. Dominic is probably in shock because it’s one of the few times I’ve spoken in the past week. I nod towards the mysterious man. “Do you know who that is?”
His sad blue eyes trace my face for a second before he pulls his gaze from me almost reluctantly and looks towards the man. “Son of a bitch,” he murmurs. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and puts his head in his hands. His father, seated to the left of him, rests his hand on his back, assumedly trying to comfort him. From an outsider’s perspective, I’m sure it seems like he’s having a moment of weakness. Like he’s breaking down over losing the love of his life, but I can feel the tension radiating off of him in waves.
He is pissed.
“Who is it?” I lean forward and repeat my question.
He doesn’t answer again, nor does he meet my eyes, and I’m instantly irritated over his blatant disregard for my question. I sit back in my chair with a huff, crossing my legs, making my skirt ride up slightly and revealing more leg than may be appropriate for a funeral. Dominic sits back in his seat. “Later. Not now.”
After the funeral, Dominic and I have been passed around several times for hugs, kisses, and what seemed like never ending promises of ‘anything you need’ and ‘call anytime.’ I’m sure most of them meant it, but I’m sure most of them know I’ll never call them. I don’t need many people. My grandparents. My best friend.My mother.I bite the inside of my cheek as the tears form for the first time in a week.
My mother is dead.
I don’t have a father.
I’m an orphan.
That’s not true. You’ve got Dominic.
He’s not my father.
He’s the closest thing you’ve got.
I’m just about to provide another rebuttal to my subconscious, but in that moment, fate decides after seventeen and a half years, it’s ready to fuck with my daddy abandonment issues.
“You look just like her.”
I had managed to get away from the crowds and the endless hugs that were making me feel like I was suffocating. I’d stepped away for some peace and maybe to take the edible that Kate had given me in case I needed an escape.
I turn around to find the guy that I’d spotted at the funeral.Mob guy.I blink several times as if to saywhat do you want?His English is good, but his Italian accent is thick. Like maybe he’s spent a lot of time here at some point but is currently living abroad.
“How old are you?” he asks and I frown at his question.No, I’m sorry for your loss? My condolences? What the fuck?
“I’ll be eighteen next month.”
“Wow.” He chuckles and pulls his glasses from his face. “I feel so old at this moment.” He takes a step closer to me and I take a step back, suddenly wishing that I hadn’t beensocurious about this man. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
