All of It (33 page)

The front room is still empty without the chairs and piano, but Dimitri’s sofa, tables, TV, stereo, and bookshelves have been set up in the living room. The walls have been painted, too, and there are new drapes hanging over the windows.

“Wow, Sunny really went all out. It’s definitely not my parents’ house anymore, is it?” I don’t know what else to say. It looks great. It’s better than great. I never pictured myself living in a house this nice, this hip. But it’s still weird, even sad in a way.

Dimitri’s eyes are pleading with me. “Ronnie, you
were
running a little low on furniture. I mean, I can appreciate minimalism, but …” He trails off. He’s trying to lighten the mood with some humor, but my uncertainty is killing him.

I shrug. “It was unintentional minimalism anyway, does that even count?” He smiles slightly at my sad counter attempt at humor. “I’m sorry. I’m being an ungrateful bitch. After all that’s happened the past few days, I completely forgot I was coming back to an empty house. To be completely candid, I didn’t really intend to come back … here, or anywhere. It’s all a little shocking. I’m sorry.” My emotions tighten like a fist within me, choking off my words.

He takes my hands as we stand in the middle of the empty front room. It’s just Dimitri, me, my pain, and my honesty in the barren space. “Ronnie, baby, I think you need to see a doctor. Someone you can talk to, someone that can help you, someone with medicine …” His words trail off again, but his gaze is steady, unwilling to release its grip on mine. And his eyes tell all. Behind his words lay total anguish. This is harder for him than I ever imagined, and the past few days have been the hardest yet.

I reach up and stroke his cheek with my hand. He’s so beautiful, even when he’s tired and broken. “I’ve been thinking a lot today. I mean, my mom always said it, but I am pretty sure I’ve been presented undeniable proof.” I pause as I watch his Adam’s apple move up and down, swallowing the lump in his throat. “There
really
aren’t
any
coincidences.
Everything
happens for a reason. I don’t know why I’m supposed to suffer through this depression. I don’t know that yet. But I do know that three nights ago, I lay awake all night crying, staring out at the Vegas strip thinking about every possible way to kill myself. Which would be the least painful, the quickest, the least … messy? And later, I found out that Teagan killed himself that very same night. That’s uncanny timing, don’t you think?”

Dimitri nods in agreement through misty eyes.

“The funeral today was awful. It gutted me. We shouldn’t have been there … any of us. He shouldn’t have done it. Don’t get me wrong I, of all people, can’t exactly fault him for it. Suicide is so
fucking
tempting. It’s, it’s …” I’m searching for the word, and notice Dimitri’s wincing at my explicitness. “It’s relief from the excruciating pain that bears down every single day. We all have our burdens to bear, and God knows Teagan had more than most. But if he could’ve sat there in that church and at the cemetery today and watched the emotional torment his death caused the people he loved—” I shake my head. “—I don’t think he would’ve done it.”

The tears are in Dimitri’s eyes now. “It would be the same at your funeral, you know?”

I’m eerily calm. “No, I don’t know that. But I assume it would be. And I know what you’re going to ask next.” I bite my lip. “After seeing their faces, and picturing you in that much pain,” I shake my head at the ground before looking into Dimitri’s eyes, “I don’t think I can do it. Today was a horrible reality check.” My thoughts are getting ahead of me and a humorless chuckle escapes me. “It’s funny. I always thought I was the one taking care of Teagan, I mean he called me Mom, for God’s sake. In an ironically auspicious twist I think the scale was tipped more in my direction than I ever realized. In a strange way I feel like Teagan was, and is, my guardian angel. He always looked out for me in life and now his death has prevented mine.” I heave a heavy sigh.

Dimitri’s eyes are searching mine. “I guess I’m indebted to Teagan for the rest of my life.”

I take his hand in mine, and place them both over my heart. “I’m not going to lie to you. The pain is still here. And it’s still heavy. I’ve been carrying it so long that it feels like an extra limb. It’s part of me. And it still scares the hell out of me. I pray to God it’s not permanent, but I do feel different today. I can’t say it’s hope, but it’s something close. It’s not total despair, and that feels almost human and
lovely
. I can’t allow Teagan’s death to have happened in vain. I owe it to him to fight. I owe it to
you
to fight.” At this, I squeeze his hand, and bring it up to my lips to kiss his fingers. “You’ve stood by me the past year when everyone else abandoned me. I know it wasn’t for my sparkling personality or my shitty conversation skills. What I want to know is, why?”

He pulls my hand toward his lips and kisses my own fingers. He sniffles as he says, “You know why, Ronnie. Because I love you. I’m undeniably devoted to you. You have no idea how special you are to me. I don’t think that most people could even comprehend a love this intense.”

“I think maybe I can … and do. I love you, too. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for everything—especially for being Dimitri Glenn. I wouldn’t be here without you.” Our eyes are both heavy with tears and exhaustion. I nod my head toward the hallway. “Come on Mr. Sleepy Face, you need some rest. I hope this bed of yours—” I stop to correct myself. “I mean,
ours
, is comfortable.”

The corner of his mouth twitches and lifts precariously into his familiar old mischievous smile as he eyes me. “Oh, I’d say it’s plenty comfortable enough for just about anything.”

Life is sometimes … auspicious.

Despite the innuendos and the fact that, for the first time, we are sleeping together in our own bed, we both fall asleep instantly. And tonight, my dreams return.

The snow is heavy on the ground and in the air. The wind is biting and evil—the kind of wind that gets into your bones and freezes you from the inside out. I have to lift my layered skirts, which are sodden and heavy, to walk up the hill through the freshly-fallen, knee-deep snow. Normally Dimitri wouldn’t get the horse and buggy out of the barn in this type of weather for anything short of an emergency, but this is an important day. When I reminded him of it this morning, I knew he wouldn’t deny me the three-mile drive.

It’s been snowing like this all morning. I blink against the sting of the snowflakes as they strike my face like a million tiny needles. “We’re close. It’s there—just beyond that tree.”

Even though the storm is violent, the snow on the ground is so fresh and undisturbed that it feels almost criminal to trudge through it. I pull the wool blanket tighter around my shoulders and feel Dimitri’s hand strong against my back, steadying me. The walk from the road up the hill is challenging in the snow, but I’m determined. Dimitri holds on to me with one arm, and carries a small shovel in the other. We trudge on.

We arrive at the top of the hill, where a mighty oak shelters us from the worst of the storm. From its trunk, I walk three paces north and rest my hands on my knees bending over to shield my face from the driving snow and to catch my breath.

“Good thing we didn’t wait another hour or it would have been covered and we wouldn’t have been able to find it. I think they were waiting for you,” Dimitri says, stepping around me and reaching down. The top of a gray stone marker is just visible, and he begins to brush away the snow. Then, he takes his shovel and deftly removes the rest of the snow, revealing the bare earth in front of the marker. I step into the clearing wiggling my toes in my thin, ankle-high boots to bring some feeling back to my feet. Then I kneel down on the wet dirt, looking directly at the marker as Dimitri continues to clear the snow behind me. I brush my glove across the surface until I can see what’s written there:

William Smith Josephine Smith
Born May 25, 1824 Born May 23, 1824
Died January 12, 1867 Died January 12, 1867

I visit them once a week on foot if weather permits, but each time I look at their names it brings on a momentary wave of terror. These days, it’s over as quickly as it comes, but the finality of their names in stone is always disturbing. “It’s been exactly a year, but not a day goes by that I don’t miss them terribly,” I say, almost as if I’m speaking to the stone itself.

Dimitri’s standing behind me in the clearing now and I feel, through the layers of sweaters and blankets, his hands on my back and shoulders attempting to sooth me. “I know. I miss them, too.”

I reach deep in my pockets and empty two handfuls of small rocks on the frozen ground. I work quickly but diligently. When I’m done the word LOVE is spelled out in rocks at the base of grave marker.

I look back at Dimitri and shrug. “No flowers.”

He bends over and kisses the top of my hat. “I think it’s brilliant. They would
love
it. No pun intended.”

“You know I still believe they’re with me.”

He nods. “They’re always with you,” he says in a comforting voice. “In your heart and especially in your memories.”

I stand and turn to face him, squinting against the bombarding snow. “Their death has been very difficult for me to deal with this past year, but you’ve stood by me. And you’re here today, in the middle of a blizzard. Why?”

He squeezes my hands and sniffles, “You know why, Ronnie. Because I love you. I’m undeniably devoted to you. You have no idea how special you are to me. I don’t think that most people could even comprehend a love this intense.”

“I think maybe I can … and do. I love you, too.”

My eyes open to total darkness. I blink several times. I blink twice more just to be sure I’m awake and release the death grip I have on the sheet covering me. I hear soft breathing to my left and it takes me a moment to realize it’s Dimitri. We’ve slept all afternoon and all night in our clothes. So much for the nap. He’s sprawled out on his back, taking up a good two thirds of the bed. His hand is resting on my shoulder. Good thing the bed’s a king size, or I may have been forced to the floor. I slip out as quietly as possible to avoid waking him.

I return from the bathroom to find him awake, propped up against two pillows. It’s almost dawn.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” I talk quietly as if there are others in the house I might disturb if I don’t keep my voice down. I guess I’m used to silence in the morning after spending a year alone in this house.

He smiles. “It’s okay. I have trouble sleeping when you’re not with me.”

I crawl across the bed and lay my head on his chest. “I thought you told me once you were an insomniac. You’ve slept like the dead these past few days.”

He flashes his knowing smile and winks. “Like I said, I have trouble sleeping when you’re not with me. I wish I would’ve found you years ago; it would’ve been much easier on my constitution. The real question is, how did Ronnie sleep in her new, oh-so-comfy bed?” He’s rubbing the sheets on either side of him for added effect.

“I dreamt,” I say, smiling. I know he’ll be pleased. He’s always been interested in my dreams, and I haven’t had any since my parents died.

He sits bolt upright and catches my head in his lap. “You did? What was it about?”

I sit up and wrap my arms around his waist. “Visiting my parents’ graves. It was like a hundred years ago and there was a blizzard.”

He nods. He always looks like he’s trying to conjure up imagery when I tell him about my dreams, like he wants to share every detail with me.

I muster up courage from deep within. “I think it’s time.”

He brushes a few stray hairs behind my ear. “Time for what?”

“I think it’s time to spread their ashes,” I say, my voice wavering.

He stokes my hair. “Where?”

“Well, after my grandma died, they told me when they passed away they wanted their ashes spread somewhere the family would enjoy visiting them. So, I was thinking about their favorite places and mine. I think they would really like it in Glacier National Park. We drove through the park on vacation when I was nine or ten, and I remember thinking it was the prettiest place I’d ever seen. We all loved it.” I sit up and look into his eyes. “What do you think?”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” His eyes are penetrating and he’s analyzing everything my words and face are and aren’t telling him.

“I think I need to do it. To get some closure. In the dream, it was scary at first to visit them, especially with their names glaring out and memorialized in stone, but it was also kind of comforting to have somewhere to go to honor them. I think I need that, and I think they deserve that. They should be honored somewhere beautiful, someplace they loved.”

“Let’s do it. When do we leave?”

He’s always so eager and quick to please me. I think he’d do anything for me. I truly don’t deserve him. I’m thankful that I didn’t just tell him I’d like to rob a bank. “Maybe in a couple of weeks?” I say. “I really need to get back to work before your mom fires me. By the way, do I work today? I don’t even know what day it is.”

He winks. “It’s Sunday. You’re safe.”

Getting back to some semblance of normalcy during the following two weeks is strange. I don’t even know what normal looks like anymore. But I’m willing to try to create it anyway. My heart is still heavy and the pain continues, though there are moments when peace visits me. It comes at unexpected times: when I’m reading a book Sunny gave me (I haven’t read in months), when I’m riding the bus to work (I don’t have Jezebel anymore, remember?), or when I’m washing the dishes with Dimitri after dinner (our new plates have cherry blossoms on them; Dimitri picked them out). Peace is an unbelievably satisfying companion. I haven’t mastered the art of cultivating it yet, but I’ve learned to nurture it when it makes a serendipitous appearance. It helps to balance out the moments of despair. But those moments are diminishing, and come only at night after Dimitri’s fallen asleep and the house is so, so quiet. Quiet enough to think … and remember … and grieve.