by Elena Monroe
Picking up the shovel, the rain started soaking my white shirt to the point of the fabric sticking to every tense muscle as I loaded the dirt into the open grave. I felt my eyes water even more, mixing with the rain, soaking my hair and dripping down my face.
Each shovel full of dirt felt heavier and heavier. It never got easier.
Only stopping to unbutton the useless shirt that felt like suffocation, I ripped it off and threw it to the side, letting it become as dirty as my soul, my conscience, my once purely untouched heart. I was burying Grams, but I was laying all my sins to rest too. I was embodying the man I became in her absence and leaving all the parts of me I didn’t need here.
I was covered in dirt that the rain wasn’t doing much to wash away, continuing to bury the last person in her life besides me. It took a solid two hours of nonstop shoveling before the top of the grave was covered in fresh moist dirt. Dropping the shovel, I stayed in place finding her eyes, pink and bloodshot, still utterly beautiful, even with less resilience than normal.
I maintained the distance, letting her have as much time as she needed while my irregular breath tried to find its way back to steady flows of oxygen. Finally closing the gap, I took her hand, placing it over my forearm, holding the umbrella above her head, and standing still next to her without any words to ruin it.
My feet were practically rooted to the ground when my voice puttered out of my mouth in a whisper, “Let me drive you home.”
Without an argument, fight, or any colorful language, she twisted on her heel, walking away from Grams without so much as a goodbye.
I couldn’t judge her; I pulled the trigger without so much as guilt, so why did she have to say goodbye? It was her way of mourning, not mine.
My hand was still hovering as I led her down to my car, still wearing my jacket and walking faster than me, so the umbrella wasn’t doing much to keep us dry. She stopped in front of the passenger door, probably out of habit, when I closed the umbrella and yanked it open, watching her gracefully sit down.
Catatonic.
Numb.
Quiet.
Those were the only words coming to mind. Not my usual adjectives for her, and that scared me. I wasn’t raised to be a strength for anyone or anything, it was a selfish trait that I had to learn to use for good.
Tossing the umbrella in my backseat, I sat down, soaking wet and dirty, and I twisted my key, hearing my car purr to life. Without idling for long, I sped down the road to her Grams’s house, putting distance between us and the discomfort of one of the good ones leaving this world.
I already missed calling her and hearing her berate me into being the constant I already wanted to be for her granddaughter. I already missed how much she believed in me, because she knew better than anyone how much more than surface level we were.
I missed the woman who raised my future wife.
Pulling into her driveway, I rounded my car to open her door when she took longer to get out than normal. I’m sure this wasn’t the easiest place to be, but I needed her out of LA, away from the Clave.
Hugging my suit jacket around herself, she stood outside my car, eyes downward and still quieter than ever. “Do you want me to stay?” I didn’t want to push her too fast and end up scaring her, but I didn’t want to leave either.
Finally, she spoke to me: “No, I just want to be alone.” I could see in her eyes how terrified she was. Of going inside? Of being alone? Or of me leaving? Probably all of it.
I watched her walk to the door, still hugging my jacket with the ring box and blood oath tucked into the pockets. She could find them, and it wouldn’t derail one iota of my motivation to make her mine. Standing in the rain still, I shouted her direction, “Grams was right about you. Always trying to push people away who aren’t going anywhere. Tell me why, Jus.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I wasn’t just shouting in the rain; I was hitting her where it would hurt.
“Because loving you scares me!” she shouted back, turning on her heel, heading back towards me with the fire buried under all the grieving.
Grabbing her arm, Grams’s words rang inside of my head: Don’t take no for an answer.
“It should scare you. We’re putting all of our fears aside to be us—this. I want to be scared forever because of you.”
Finally our armor fell out in clumps, leaving only our sensitivities showing. We were both terrified that loving someone was a kind of death to who we are comfortable being.
Love wasn’t going to make her any less of a fighter.
Love wasn’t going to make me see losing any differently.
Love wasn’t our downfall; it was our greatest accomplishment.
“Maybe I don’t want to be scared! Maybe that’s my truth, and you have to accept it.” I watched her hand disappear into my jacket, pulling out the ring box and holding it as her hair stuck to her face. “What is this?”
I was still shirtless with my abs slick from the rain, staring at the small box in her hands. “You don’t know the truth if it slapped you in the face. You love pushing the boundaries. You love pushing my buttons. You love the small fraction of time that we get mad and you get scared, because in those same moments we see this working—us, working. Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll leave.”
We were the crazy neighbors, arguing on her front lawn in the pouring rain, dressed all in black—only this time, we were mourning all the parts of us that pushed against this.
She dropped her hand down by her side, ring box still in her grip, and stared at me, like I was her truth.
Me.
Vic the Dick.
Vicy the Hippie.
Vic without any masks.
Taking her silence as an agreeance, I walked past her, leaving her in the rain, going inside. It didn’t take her long to trail in after me, leaning against the banister and waiting for her.
“Take off your shoes. Grams doesn’t like her floors dirty,” she said quietly while kicking off her shoes at the door and climbing the stairs still comfortable in my jacket. “You need to shower.”
I followed her, looking around, trying to take it all in, having never been here before. The house was full of photos, colors, art, and life compared to how I grew up. How I grew up resembled a prison or factory in comparison. Climbing the stairs slowly, purposely, I took in a smaller Justice in all of the photos—not yet jilted and with too much love to give to be afraid of it.
Of course, she had two very alive parents in the photos.
I was to blame for some of that fear.
JUSTICE
Twisting the shower knob to scolding hot, I grabbed Vic a towel and placed it on the counter for him to easily see.
He was forcing me to notice that he never left, and it wasn’t making it any easier to swallow the fact that I spun the truth in a way that would fit my comfort. Now my truth was ripped to shreds, and Vic had no issue showing me how much that wasn’t going to keep me warm at night.
Vic stood in the way of me leaving, boxing me in. “Please move, Vic.”
“I can’t do that.” His hand pulled the suit jacket open and fished into the pocket for a tube that looked like blood, but I wanted to convince myself it was anything but. There was enough death between us that I didn’t need the proof of it.
“I need you to be safe. I need you alive. I need the Clave to not see you as a risk…”
“What does that have to do with that?” Taking a step forward, I felt myself matching his steps, taking steps backwards until my ass hit the cold counter.
His body didn’t leave much room between us. His hands pressed against the counter, and his lips were so close to mine I could feel the tension rising between us.
It was hard to be mad at him when he had just buried the last person I had left on this earth all by himself. He was covered in dirt and sweat that looked a lot like vindication.
Being in his presence, a forced proximity, I already felt the sadness of something that sat heavily on me starting to lift. W
ith him, it was hard to be any other version of myself but the one I was most comfortable being—the one he fell for without me trying.
There was no judgment, because whoever I decided to be I knew his love was unwavering.
“It’s not easy loving you…” His hot breath might as well have hit every sensitive patch of skin as I shivered, rubbing my thighs together, because I knew every time he spoke it awoke something in me.
More than my heart.
“The best things are never easy…” My quick wit got the best of me.
A hand clamped over my mouth, and I knew we hit a pause on our games. “For once, just be quiet, okay? I’m talking...”
Even our sweet moments were full of fire, full of upper hands and put downs to silence everything long enough for us to fit a piece of ourselves into the world we wouldn’t normally give up.
That’s what love was for the both of us: giving up the idea that one was right for us.
I nodded, waiting with a smirk on my face with so many comebacks I could already feel burning a hole on my tongue that I was keeping caged.
“...the only way to keep you safe is a blood oath.” He said it like it was just another coffee order, while unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop. His body fully displayed and distracting me from making another quick wit comment.
He pulled back the shower curtain, handing me the thick tube of dark red blood, and said, “Bottoms up.”
Looking at the tube, I uncapped it, holding it to my lips, still unsure. He tipped up the bottom, and I was forced to swallow down the thick liquid that tasted like change against my cheeks. I wasn’t the kind of girl to spit.
Vic’s hands snuck under my modest black dress yanking my panty hose down that I wouldn’t normally choose to wear, but it was in her instructions she left behind. Whatever made Grams happy.
My hands fell to his shoulders as he leaned down, pulling them off all the way before standing up again. “Shower with me.”
All the moisture in my mouth dried up, and I couldn’t get my mouth to stay closed as he stepped into the steamy shower. He held back the curtain and offered me a hand as I was still wiggling out of my dress and undergarments—also outlined in her will. I felt Vic’s strength when his hands landed on my hips, pulling me flush against him under the showerhead, making sure I didn’t fall.
“You don’t always have to be so strong. You taught me that.”
Those were the words that broke down every last bit of strength I had in me that was holding me together. My shoulders hunched over, my eyes stung with tears, and my mouth trembled down to my jaw. I nearly collapsed into Vic’s arms that were holding my face.
His arms wrapped around me, holding me tightly, and I felt safe—a kind of safe I didn’t recognize, not since before my family got torn apart.
Vic’s lips pressed against my hair, still holding onto me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I would never lie to you… I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating those words until they seemed to fade into the air as I absorbed each one, letting the apologies heal me.
I never put much stock in apologies, yet this time felt different. It felt authentic and genuine, just like the Vic I knew without a mask.
We stood there until my skin threatened to prune and the water ran cold, just holding each other in a way that our sex didn’t cover—intimate. Vic stepped out first, dripping water everywhere, holding up a towel for me to step into. Feeling the soft, warm, towel hug me, I had so many questions I wanted to ask him. I wanted to pretend my stubborn sense of willingness never happened and we didn’t have any time apart.
“So… that girl at your parents’ house. You know... 90% legs, gorgeous, gets doors opened for her too…?” Looking in the mirror, I ran the towel over my face, feeling his chest at my back.
“We’ve been apart for a while, Jus… Things happen.”
A disgusted look stuck to my eyebrows, and I twisted around to see him full blown smirking. His lips pressed into mine, and my mouth was already opening for his tongue when he pulled away, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck. “That ring box you found? That woman is a diamond expert who helped me find what I wanted for you.”
His kisses could have distracted me from asking more questions, but my fingertips felt the wet bandage around his forearm. “This is what happened because of what I did?”
Pulling away, leaving a gap between us, he pulled the bandage off, showing a scar that was still healing in an odd pattern. The tears drowned out my vision knowing I had caused him pain, just like he had caused me. It was much easier to hurt him when I didn’t have to stare at the fallout.
My voice cracked, breaking the seal on the tears I was holding back: “I’m sorry.”
I felt his thumb catch my chin, forcing me to look at him through tear-stained eyes as he whispered, “We both made mistakes. It’s about making up for them now.”
Our lips touched again, but in a way that acted like a seal for our apologies, starting fresh, and moving on without the baggage we both carried around.
After he dried off, I held the towel around me, mustering up enough energy to enter Grams’s room after ignoring its existence since she passed away.
The smell of fresh cookies and lavender poured out as I tip-toed across the room to my grandpa’s closet, trying to find something for Vic to wear.
I barely knew my grandpa; he passed away when I was only six. It was hard to remember life before death started creeping in.
Brushing my fingers over the 90’s jeans, khakis, and sweaters that looked purposely oversized, I pulled on the fabric until the hangers finally let go.
Closing the door behind me, I paused, inhaling the scent of my Grams before it faded from my life completely. No one was going to use the kitchen the way she did or make this air freshener with the lavender from her garden.
If I didn’t have this locket with my parents photos inside, I was pretty sure my memories would have faded already.
Handing him my grandpa’s clothes, he didn’t even bother finding some privacy. The towel dropped, and he jumped into the jeans that almost fit like a glove. His hand adjusted his package, and he left them unbuttoned like they’d suffocate him otherwise. At least the oversized striped pullover with three buttons fit better.
My grandpa wasn’t carrying around as much muscle as Vic, but seeing him fit into my life so easily made my heart skip a beat.
“Take out or should I cook?” He must have heard my stomach turn in hunger.
I couldn’t remember when I ate last. Pretty sure my diet consisted of tears, curling into a ball, and throwing up when I realized my independence looked a lot like loneliness.
“I’m pretty sure all the food is bad by now. Grams handled all of that.” My eyes fell downward, still holding my towel tightly.
Making himself shorter, he tried to catch my eye. “Hey, hey. There’s no fooling me. I wouldn’t trust you in a kitchen. Let’s go see what we’ve got.”
He was still saving me, fighting for me, and it terrified me to let myself need him.
Clutching my towel, he pointed to the door across from us—pink to match my hair. “Yours?”
I nodded, watching him disappear inside. Moments later, he returned with a big shirt that read: Forgive, not Forget. It hit me like a ton of bricks how much my younger self wasn’t as jagged as I was now.
Pulling the shirt down over the towel, I let it fall down underneath before leaving our wet towels on the floor to pick up later. It would give me something to do tonight when I couldn’t sleep.
Cruising into the kitchen, I sat on one of the stools, not putting in an effort. I was no use in this space.
Vic buzzed around the kitchen, somehow salvaging supplies and creating a rhythm he seemed happy keeping up with.
Watching him, mesmerized, I lost track of time until a plate of pasta landed in front of me. Quietly, we ate next to each other while my mind raced through thoughts imagining what could be our happy ending.
I knew we weren’t t
he people who deserved it, yet I could see myself breaking all of my own rules on love, marriage, kids—a kind of happiness that seemed to fix all the bad.
My heart was falling for him more, even though my head still protested.
Once we finished, I found myself automatically walking to the door, twisting the knob before this hot air could bulldoze me over. “I should probably try to get some sleep… Thank you for coming.”
I wanted to close my eyes and berate myself for the words I just let come out of my mouth. Thanks for coming? He buried my Grams in some warped way of showing commitment, and all I did was thank him.
The words I really wanted to say just wouldn’t come up, even if I stopped fighting. I hadn’t loved anyone the world let me have.
Everyone I loved was taken away from me, and I never wanted to learn that lesson again, so I manipulated truth into an easier pill to swallow: meaningless sex, friends with benefits, anything but love.
“Is that what you want?” I could see this glimmer in his eye, daring me to muster up the courage to lie, knowing that I wouldn’t.
All I could do was nod as a silent yes.
“I’ll go then. I have work in the morning, and it’s a long drive.” There wasn’t much room to breathe between us as I chewed my lips and kept my eyes down.
They should teach you how to properly say goodbye to someone so that it doesn’t land flat and awkward. I wanted it to matter the way our whirlwind romance did, but nothing came out right, so I took a vow of silence instead.
Stepping into my space, I felt his hand graze my hip, making my heart jump into my ears, pounding so loudly I couldn’t hear my mind yelling at me that what he was about to do was a bad idea.
I felt the cold wall press into my back, and his lips hovered over mine as he whispered, “One last kiss? I’ll make sure it holds me over.”
He didn’t even wait to be granted permission. His lips nipped mine lightly, before pulling back looking to me for consent. Pushing my chin up to him, I made it clear he could kiss me in what seemed like the most heartbreaking kind of goodbye.
