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Lily
It never rained like this when Dimitri was still alive.
Icy daggers of water fall so hard and fast that they splatter soil all the way up to my knees. The wide black umbrella overhead does little to keep me dry. Every time the wind picks up, the rain comes in sideways, drenching my dress and making my hands ache from the cold.
Spring was supposed to be a happy new beginning, with warmth and life blossoming on every street corner and park. Today, however, it’s an ending. I just don’t see how things could get better after something like this.
I’m old enough now to take care of myself in theory. I can buy groceries, drive, and I got a job straight out of college that pays me enough for rent in a decent neighborhood. No roommates, either, and I don’t miss them in the slightest.
But those are just the necessities. What I lost when my uncle Dimitri died was more than financial support and emotional guidance.
I lost unconditional love.
It’s rare these days to ever experience something so pure. Even my parents failed miserably at showing me anything but a few nice words with ulterior motives attached to them like grenade pins. Letting them back into my life would be explosive.
I was a bit afraid that they would show up at the funeral, but I should’ve known better. The rain is too heavy for my father to justify making the drive over here, and he’d never endure the bitter conditions outside, even if it was to say goodbye to his own brother.
And my mother… She absolutely loathed Dimitri, but she’d never say why. Maybe it’s because he saw her for who she really was and wasn’t afraid to tell me once he realized I had a mind of my own.
Once a rat, always a rat.
I smile at his words, picturing him shaking his large fist over the dinner table with a glass of whiskey in the other hand. He always took it neat, but the week before he died, he started drinking it on the rocks.
Subtle changes led to the big moment. It was like he was hinting that he was about to go, and I didn’t notice until it was too late.
I can hardly believe I’m standing here, looking down at the damp soil as it’s shoveled on top of his coffin. How can they put a man in the ground like that when he was so full of life just a few days ago?
My cheeks burn so uncomfortably hot that I’m grateful for the ugly weather. It’s refreshing in a brutal sort of way, almost enough to distract me from why I’m here.
But moments like this aren’t easily washed away, and they tend to return at a later date, like mold on a damp wall. Inside me, the walls are drenched and dirty, the perfect condition for rot and decay.
I feel the momentary urge to throw myself into the grave with Dimitri as they’re piling on the last of the dirt, but something catches my eye in the thickness of the rain. A glint of red on the hand of a man standing by the edge of the cemetery.
I thought I knew everyone that Dimitri was friends with. The baker down the road who makes bread like they do in Russia. He’s here with his wife, crying just as hard as everyone else. And then there’s the blind barber who can shave with a straight razor better than any man who can see.
But there’s another group of men, standing at a distance in the storm without umbrellas. They’re all quite large, obvious even in the nearly opaque wall of rain, cloaked in thick wool coats and hats down low over their eyes.
At this distance, I can’t make out much detail, but I catch a glint of red every time the man in the center moves his hand. A ring, just like the one Dimitri wears. He never told me what it meant, despite my curiosity, but it was deeply important to him. It never left his pinky.
It could be a coincidence, but there was enough mystery surrounding Dimitri’s life that I doubt it is. Even though he knew he was dying, he’d never tell me much about his past. Everything was a big secret, including why he and his brother – my father – never spoke.
Now that he’s gone, I feel compelled to find out more about his past, even if he wouldn’t want me to know.
Maybe he thought I would judge him.
Not a chance. I know it’s terrible, but he could’ve committed the worst of sins, and I would’ve still cherished him. He taught me what unconditional love was, and the key part of that is the unconditional part.
The wind blows hard from beside me, pushing me a step toward the huddled mass of men in the distance. My umbrella bends in their direction, pointing the way to possible answers to the swirling clump of questions in my head.
So much unanswered. So much left to uncover.
Perhaps I should be laying this all to rest. Attempting to dig it all up won’t bring Dimitri back, after all, but I know that I won’t be satisfied until I know the truth about him. Something tells me the man with the red ring on his finger has the answers.
I take a hesitant step toward the group, realizing that I’ll have to leave Dimitri’s fresh grave to talk to them. They might not even be here for his funeral, but then why would they be standing in the rain?
Doubt creeps in like the wet wind as I look back at the grave, but I remind myself that it’s not going anywhere. The mysterious men, however, could disappear at any moment, taking the possibility of ever learning the truth with them.
