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Settling into my chair, I do as he commanded, catching a glimpse of him sliding his plate up his lap, right over his crotch. I try to hide my smile, knowing he’s not as unaffected by whatever’s happening between us as he’d like to pretend. We’re both so fucked.
As I tuck into my meal, I taste nothing, too caught up in the vivid images and promise of our trip playing through my mind.
Every single one of them is about how it would feel to fuck my stepfather.
Shit.
The cork makes a loud pop as I yank it from the bottle. Normally, I don’t drink when I know Isaac will be home. But I don’t know where he is, and at the moment, I don’t care.
All I care about is downing this entire bottle and forgetting about this shitty day. Every year I’m reminded of who I’ve lost and what their absence has left in my life—our lives.
Four years ago, my life ended. Colors stopped looking as vibrant, food stopped tasting as good, tea wasn’t as sweet, music wasn’t as soulful, art didn’t bring me to tears, and traveling stopped being my number one goal. Nothing seemed important after I lost them.
Mama died so suddenly that the church had to rally together to make her funeral happen while Isaac, Roman, and I grieved her loss. Everything that happened from the night she died, to the funeral flash in my mind like hazy images, strung together haphazardly. They don’t make sense. They’re not clear, but always unrelenting, playing again and again, refusing to let me forget.
The blue and red lights.
Isaac’s lost eyes.
Roman.
Her casket being lowered into the ground.
The text.
And then the rest is just a blur.
I squeeze my eyes shut as more vivid memories assault me. The bright flashing lights filling our dark yard. The way she jolted as the medic rolled her lifeless body down the driveway on a gurney. The empty way Isaac had stared off into nothingness, looking emptier than I’d ever seen anyone. The way Roman had rushed forward, stopping the medics and removing her necklace for me, knowing I’d want it. That I’d need it.
The shock.
The way the coldness had settled over my body.
The denial.
Oli’s arms around me as I collapsed to the ground. Chase’s comforting words. Roman’s intense expression as he crouched in front of me, promising me that I’d survive the unsurvivable. That he’d be with me every step of the way.
He lied.
When I needed him most, he left me, and never thought twice about it. He left me, and moved on to some girl the first night he was away.
I press the bottle to my lips and tip my head back, swallowing deep mouthfuls of the sweet wine.
I don’t need him, I remind myself. I’ve dealt with this day every year by myself, and I made it through. Without him.
Without anyone.
Isaac has been here physically, sometimes, but mentally…he’s gone. He checks out for the three days that follow her death anniversary every year, and I’m left to deal with everything by myself. Every year, I hope it’ll be different, but it never is. Today’s the final day, the day we buried her. The day Roman left.
Like clockwork, Isaac will come back tomorrow, acting like nothing happened at all, smiling and preparing for the week ahead as usual.
Gripping the bottle by the neck, I shuffle through the house, stumbling over my feet and running into walls. My vision is blurry, my breathing erratic as I look around as if I’ve never seen our home before.
Every inch of this place has a ghost, either Mama’s or Roman’s. Sometimes I even see Daddy, which really fucks me up since he passed before he even knew this house existed.
The Lord doesn’t give us challenges we can’t survive, Daddy would always say. But how does He know what we can and can’t survive? How did He know I’d survive becoming an orphan at sixteen? How did He know I’d survive losing Roman?
Despite his rough edges and asshole ways, Roman was mine. He was everything to me. My best friend, and at times, my enemy. He understood when no one else did. He was there when no one else was.
