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How had Damien not prevented this? No, this wasn’t his fault. That sweet man had done so much for me—noneof this was his fault. He was only trying to protect me. But he failed. These things were out of our hands, clearly. What if I were to lose him next? Surely, either he or I or both of us will wind up dead by the end of this.
I needed to end anything romantic with him now. It wasn’t too late. I wasn’t in love. Or if I was, I could stop it. I had to go back to being independent. I had to rebuild the walls. I don’t know why I let them crumble, why I’d let him in. It had all been a massive, huge mistake. Attachment always ends in detachment. Even if two people were to spend a lifetime together, one of them will die first. One of them will go. As much as I could wish and pray that it were me, there’s no way to control that.
Winning someone over still results in loss, eventually. It wasn’t worth it. It was all too painful.
The day my parents died, the principal came to my Biology class and asked me to speak with her in the hallway. Grandpa was there, sobbing. At first I was embarrassed that my class might hear him. Was he having some sort of old-person mental breakdown? Why had he come to my school? Why was he asking for me?
“They’re gone, my boy,” he uttered through his sobs. “They’re gone.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. I was impenetrable at the moment. Surely Grandpa was just going mad.
“Nikolai, your parents were in a car crash earlier,” the principal, Mrs. Jackson, said. She was a short Black woman with long curly hair that stuck up on her head. She always spoke in a matter-of-fact way, but this time, I could hear a quiver in her voice. I spotted wetness like morning dew dropping off a blade of grass in her eyes.
“Where are they?” I asked, stoic, unable to comprehend.
“They’re at the hospital,” Mrs. Jackson said. Grandpa was leaning against the lockers with his two hands, his head pressed into the metal. He was still sobbing. “But they didn’t make it, Nikolai. They passed away.”
They say before you die, you see your life flash before your eyes. I saw my life with my parents. I saw my dad bring home maraschino cherries for my mom after work for no reason—her favorite treat. I saw Mom baking Dad a strawberry shortcake on his fortieth birthday, her face contorted and concerned as she pulled it out of the oven, worrying she’d left it in for too long, and then for not enough time. I remembered when my parents sat me down and told me they’d found some postcards of naked men I’d stolen while on vacation in Italy for my 13th birthday, telling me that I might be attracted to men, and that if I was, that was okay.
I saw all these things and more as I stood there in the hallway, Grandpa sobbing behind us, Mrs. Jackson’s hand placed firmly on my shoulder.
I walked over to my grandfather and grabbed him by the arm.
“Let’s go home, Grandpa,” I said.
I didn’t really understand that they had died until I was at the funeral. No one should ever have to experience a joint funeral for both of their parents at the same time.
The service was so small at the church where they were married. I remembered one man who came and stood alone in the back, speaking to no one, a kind smile on his face whenever I made eye contact. I figured it was one of Dad’s old poker buddies. But I always wondered.
I promised I would never let myself experience that again. And yet, here I was.
I needed to tell Damien to forget everything we’d been through romantically. I needed him to come up with a plan. I needed to save my grandfather.
And without a doubt, I needed to kill Vladimir Obolensky.
There was a nock on my door. I didn’t answer it, but Damien let himself in anyway. It looked as if he’d been crying.
What a mess.
What a fucking awful mess this had become.
“Nikolai…” he began. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I let this happen.”
I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, it was Vladimir's fault of course. But I was in too much pain. And perhaps, just a small part of medidblame Damien. Why had he not thought to save Grandpa? If he was such an expert mafioso, shouldn’t that little detail have crossed his fucking mind?
Now I was going to lose him. Grandpa, I meant.
I was sitting on the bed, looking out the window. Damien invited himself to sit next to me.
“First and foremost, I want you to know that we will fix this. Your grandfather is going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. We are still going to kill Vladimir. I promise you, this story will have a happy ending.”
I did not make eye contact with Damien. Again, I knew this wasn’t really his fault, but I was just too upset at that moment.
“I think…I should have seen this as a possibility, but maybe I’ve been too distracted.” I looked over at Damien, who was also looking out the window. He did not look back at me.
“Nikolai, I think I’ve fallen in love with you these past few days. In fact, I know I have. You’re…you’re all I think about. You’re all I dream about. When I’m sitting and eating breakfast in the morning, I hear your name in every crunch of my cereal. I hear your name in the wind when I go outside. I hear your name in the shower as the water slaps against the ground. And after the shower, when the room is filled with mist and the mirror is completely blurry, my brain
tricks me into thinking I’m seeing your face. You are absolutely everywhere to me.”
