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Lex and I have that in common, too. We both had disgraces for dads.
Unlike Lex though, I’ve never visited my dad’s grave. Tonight I’ll get my final message across without even needing to.
I pass the wall of ribbons and decorative picks, stopping by the large counter-height table where my mom does most of her work to inspect the row of buckets stuffed with flowers; none of them what I’m looking for.
Turning for the cooler, I walk inside, careful to keep the door propped open so I don’t accidentally lock myself in here. My parents used to scare the shit out of me about that when I was a kid, and to this day, I think about it every time I set foot in the walk-in.
I scan each shelf.Black, black, black.
Finally, I find them in a bucket on the floor. Since there’s no such thing as real black Roses, they have to be made. The Black Baccara Rose, which has black-tinged burgundy petals comes closest, otherwise florists create black Roses by putting white ones in water mixed with black floral dye. The colored water gets absorbed through the stalk, turning the petals black. I was hoping for thirteen since it’s the unluckiest omen, but my mom doesn’t have enough on hand. Instead, I take out four long-stems, a nice even number—the standard for funerals—and leave the rest in case she gets an order. She must not have had time to pluck off the thorns yet because they’re all still intact. Thorns are a sign of evil, so my mom typically dethorns every Rose upon getting it in. I’m glad these ones weren’t. Four thorny black Roses—it doesn’t get any more spiteful.
Once I get the lights off and set the alarm again, I drive to the cemetery Lex’s dad is buried. I don’t know if Cyrus is tracking my car and I don’t have the time to check it over, so after dumping the Explorer, I stole a gray Honda Pilot, the back just large enough for all my supplies.
I get everything unloaded next to Aleksander Obuchowski’s grave, the moon bathing the graveyard in an eerie glow, giving it an entirely different feel from the last time I was here with Lex. That was like a dream. This feels more like a nightmare.
Not for me though.
For him.
Unzipping my pants, I pull out my dick and aim right at his engraved name. My piss hits each letter, creating a steaming waterfall down the marble facade. When I’m done, I tuck myself away and zip back up, then I get started digging.
Luckily, the snowstorm missed Fox Hollow entirely, making itslightlyeasier than if there was snow, too. The ground is still pretty damn solid. It takes longer than I was hoping, but my shovel hits the casket after only four feet. I clear the top of dirt, then bring my shovel down through the lid several times, making sure to breathe through my mouth. I don’t even want toimaginewhat this motherfucker smells like, let alone experience it firsthand.
After climbing out, I switch my shovel for a gas can, emptying it out over the grave.
Next I prop the black Roses on the top of the headstone. Black Roses are associated with death, mourning, revenge, and hatred. Even though I’ve never met this man, I fucking hate him. I hate him for what he did to Lex and her mom. Before Lex even had a chance to pull that trigger, Aleksander’d already killed parts of both his wife and daughter—their futures, their lives; they might as well be buried alongside him. He fucking robbed the Obuchowski women of any happiness.
And for once in my life, I want to return what’s stolen.
Looming over Lex’s father, I pull a box of matches out of my pocket, and say down to him, “You failed. You failed your wife. You failed your daughter. Just like my dad, you failed everyone that depended on you.”
I strike a single match and let it burn in front of my face for a moment before dropping it down into the hole. The entire grave ignites into an inferno, the flames hot and angry as they eat through the gasoline, wood, and whatever the fuck Aleksander Obuchowski is. He’s not a man any more than Kordin Debrosse is or Silvino Souza was.
Good fucking riddance to them all.
“I’m gonna take care of both of them, better than you ever could,” I promise Aleksander, the universe, myself.
Aleksander’s body being here is what’s been keeping Yetta here. Now, if Lex needs to leave, she can without breaking her mom’s heart. She said she was willing to at the cabin, but I’d never make her. Breaking her mom’s heart would break hers, and whether or not she’ll admit to giving it to me, Lex’s heart is mine to protect. That’s exactly what I’m gonna do, tonight, tomorrow, and every moment after.
“Oh,” I say before I leave. “Tell my dad about the Roses.” Because I know wherever Lex’s dad ended up, my dad landed, too. “They’re as much for him as they are for you.”
The moment the taillights from a passing car disappear down the street, I come out from the side of the house and return to the window box out front, topping it off. Using my hands, I spread the dirt around and pack it down so it doesn’t look new. I move on to the next window box, repeating the same process of scooping out the soil that’s already in there, layering the bottom with the bags I brought, then pouring the dirt back over top.
Along with the money I stole from Cyrus’s safe earlier, the bags also hold fake IDs for all the women in my life, smutty books for the ones over eighteen, and both flash drives, even though I already erased everything on them. I don’t know how much time I’ll have to talk to Lex tomorrow, but I’d rather they be in her possession than have her worry where they might turn up. She’ll have enough going on.
“Aleksandra’s already got a date to homecoming,” I hear somewhere beside me, and freeze.
The bags in the second window box have a thin layer of dirt covering them, so I shut my eyes tight, and tell Lex’s mom, “I know,” wondering if that’s a homecoming Lex ever made it to.
“Then what are you doing?”
I start to turn around.
“Don’t.”
“My eyes are closed.” I hold my hands up, too. “I can’t see anything.”
Yetta waits until I’m fully facing her to ask, “Why are you out here in the middle of the night?”
