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Clearly, Cal did not tell his wife about what actually happened at the restaurant. If he did, she would know he spent more of his time getting high than talking to the employees.
His wife steps forward, voice low. “And do you happen to know who found his body? We know it was someone at the restaurant, but aren’t sure who. We would love to talk to them…thank them.”
My throat closes up, and I feel like I might fall over. What do I say? I can’t lie. They might find out later that it was me, and lying would look suspicious. But I also feel incapable of speaking the truth.
I did this. I killed Cal Higgs.
Not technically, of course, but in spirit. If I’d just left the restaurant and agreed to marry Luka, none of this would have happened.
Her eyebrows raise, waiting for me to answer, and the word slips out like an accidental squeak. “Me.”
Her mouth falls open, and then she is hugging me. Unlike Cal, his wife smells nice, floral, and surprisingly, I find myself returning her hug. When she pulls away, her eyes are wet.
“Thank you for being there with him at the end,” she says, voice cracking. “It is nice to know he left this world with a friend by his side.”
I decide I’ve shared enough of the truth with them. They don’t need to know he was dead when I found him. That his lips were blue and that blood and all manner of other bodily fluids were dripping down his chest.
“Did you know the other man who died?” his mother asks.
The hitman. I see Luka’s blade cutting into his neck. And the blood.
“No, I didn’t,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
She purses her lips and nods, disappointed. I’m sure they have so many questions about what happened and why, and I want to spill the truth at their feet. I want to get it out of my head and my heart and my memory and pass the guilt on to someone else, but I can’t. Telling the truth won’t relieve me of my guilt, and it won’t make the loss of Cal any easier for them to bear. So, I just smile, compliment the ceremony once again, and wave as they leave.
Stepping outside into the humid day feels like a reprieve. The air is damp, but the sun feels like a warm blanket on my skin, and I take a deep breath of fresh air.
“I saw you talking to Cal’s family.” Samuel is beside me, his hands folded behind his back. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Surprisingly, yes.”
“Good,” he smiles. “You can put this behind you now. Move forward. You’ve paid your respects, and that is all you can do.”
“Thanks, Samuel.” I mean it. Even if I don’t really believe I can move on so easily, it feels nice to hear him outline the steps in such a simple way.Move forward.It’s as simple as that.
He pulls his keys from his coat. “I know you came with your dad, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I gave you a ride home.”
For a moment, I’m tempted. I don’t want to get back in the car with Chiara. And though my dad has held his tongue for the last week, I know he still wants me to marry Luka, and I’m not ready to discuss it. Not after the devastation I’ve seen Luka cause. However, my father is still sensitive from me telling him he didn’t really love me, and avoiding him would only make that wound fester.
“Thanks, but I better stick with my dad. He is worried, and I want to let him know I’m fine or he’ll never let me out of his sight.”
Samuel nods and then waves, walking to his car. It is in the front of the parking lot with handicapped spaces on one side and empty spaces to the other. Half of the funeral attendees have left already, but the parking lot is still buzzing. My dad and Chiara are talking with the pastor near the stairs and the rest of the cars are lining up around the side of the church to follow the hearse to the cemetery. I watch Samuel get in his car and shut the door before I turn around to catch up with my dad and Chiara, but I don’t take more than two steps before the earth falls out from under me.
My ears ring, my knees buckle, and a massive gust of hot air pushes me flat on my face.
I lift myself on shaky arms and look towards the church. The sunny day has turned gray, dust and smoke billowing everywhere, and I can’t see my dad or Chiara or Cal’s family or the pastor. I can’t see anyone. I turn around to look for Samuel, but where his car was moments ago, there is only smoke and flames. I try to call out his name, but I cough on the acrid air.
It doesn’t matter. He isn’t there, anyway. Nothing is there. The bomb blew the car to bits.
* * *
The CT scan shows no signs of head trauma and aside from a few scrapes and bruises, I’m fine. The doctor says the ringing in my ears will subside in a few hours or as long as a week or more. If it doesn’t, I should come back.
I nod numbly, too overwhelmed to ask any questions. Too overwhelmed to care about my own wellbeing.
Samuel is dead.
I’d been talking to him, grateful for his concern when no one else seemed to care what I wanted, and now he is gone. And why?
