Vintage Volume Two

by Suzanne, Lisa

  But I was finding difficulty in mourning someone who I’d already mourned.

  When he left me the first time, he was as good as dead to me. Of course his actual death was still painful, but I was starting to think it was the reason behind his death that hurt the most. Whatever Damien had gotten into had caused our split, but I knew who was behind Damien’s murder. I couldn’t help but think once again that if he’d never met my dad and gotten tangled up in the gambling debts and whatever else they were into, Damien would still be living and breathing.

  But then he’d be living and breathing beside me, and Parker and I might never have met.

  It was a tangled web that I couldn’t sort out, so I chose to push those thoughts out of my mind to focus on my future. I couldn’t change the past anyway, so it wasn’t worth the waste of energy to wish things were different.

  There was too much at stake to wish for things to be different, anyway.

  My mom changed the subject. It was her way of lightening the mood, but it was just another reminder to me of why the two of us weren’t all that close. “Well it looks like I have a flight to book and a dress to buy. I promise not to wear white, but I can’t promise not to show up the bride.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  We hung up. No “I love you” or endearment. That’s how it always was with my mom.

  I was a Daddy’s girl through and through, and every time I spoke to my mother, I was reminded why that was the case.

  I tossed my phone into the cup holder in the console between us. Parker reached over and laced his fingers through mine.

  “So that’s your elusive mother?” he asked.

  I nodded, my head turned away from him as I watched the landscape pass us by on the highway back toward my place.

  “Were she and your dad married?”

  I shook my head. “My dad was smarter than that. They stayed together a while for my sake, but they realized I’d be better off with the two of them apart.”

  “No offense to you, but your dad seems too good for her.”

  “No shit. And no offense taken. She’s a handful. Always has been, which is why I prefer keeping her out of my life whenever possible.”

  We were quiet as we drove back home. When we got there, Parker set to researching for the wedding in my home office while I sat in my chair in my family room and called Carla back.

  Parker gave me privacy even though I hadn’t asked for it—just another example of him knowing exactly what I needed. This one wouldn’t quite be like the joke of a conversation I’d had with my mom.

  “Hello?” Carla’s voice was familiar, but the warmth was all gone out of it. Her simple greeting was filled with remorse and regret.

  “Hi Carla. It’s Roxanna Price.”

  I heard a sob break through the silence on the other end.

  She didn’t speak, so a moment of awkwardness followed.

  “I’m…uh…just returning your call,” I stammered.

  More silence, and then finally she managed, “Thank you.”

  “Would you like to meet for coffee?” I asked, not sure what to say.

  “That would be nice.” Her voice broke as she spoke.

  “Have you—” I started to ask if she’d planned a date for Damien’s funeral, but I cut myself off.

  It was all so surreal.

  Damien was dead.

  I was aware of that, and I thought I’d already dealt with it, but it came and hit me from out of nowhere.

  Tears filled my eyes as I listened to the quiet keening of Damien’s mother, a woman who had lost her only child far too early.

  She took a deep breath. “Let’s meet at the Starbucks on Olympic. Four o’clock?” she asked.

  “Okay. See you then.”

  I glanced at the clock on my phone when I ended the call. I had two hours to kill.

  Hours to kill.

  To kill.

  Hours were meant for killing.

  A mosquito when you see it on your arm.

  A spider in the closet.

  Not a twenty-three-year-old man in the prime of his life.

  The simple thought caused the tears I’d been holding back while I spoke with Damien’s mother to cascade down my cheeks.

  Parker emerged from the office and stood in the hallway that led from my family room to the office and my bedroom.

  He was hesitant. Unsure.

  Parker was confident. Always. Seeing him hesitate in my hallway, not quite sure what to do to help me, tore at my heart.

  I didn’t want him to feel anxious. I wanted to comfort him, even though I was the one crying.

  I leapt from my seat and ran to him. He braced himself as I crashed into him, finally letting the avalanche of tears free.

  I needed to let it out. My dad had always told me that there was more room on the outside, and maybe for the first time, I understood what he meant.

  “Are you meeting with her?” he asked, rubbing my back in soothing circles until the tears subsided. I drew in as much air as my lungs could take as I tried to calm myself.

  I nodded.

  “You want me to come with you?”

  I shrugged, and I felt his lips press to my forehead.

  “I’m coming with you.” He was back in control. I liked him there.

  I wasn’t a weak woman by any means. I’d suffered alone and I’d come out on the other end of it stronger.

  But I did depend on the man I was going to marry to help me feel whole. And in that moment, he knew what I needed more than I did. And that just made me fall even more in love with him.

  nineteen

  I was worthless until four o’clock rolled around. Parker asked me wedding questions, but I was too nervous and distracted to answer them. I couldn’t make decisions when I knew that Damien’s mom was getting ready to meet me. I didn’t know what she wanted to talk about, and I was starting to allow my insecurities to take over again. Did she blame me for her son’s death? Did she want revenge? It was ridiculous to think that she was somehow working with Randy considering he had to have been the one who had killed her son, yet the random thought worked its way into my head.

  If she wanted revenge, surely she wouldn’t have chosen a public place to meet me.

  I walked into Starbucks with Parker trailing close behind me. Bruno followed us in and stood by the door as usual.

  I glanced around and found her sitting in a quiet corner. Four o’clock wasn’t the height of action at a coffee shop, so we had relative privacy. When she saw me, she fidgeted. It was odd seeing Damien’s mother fidgety. She’d always been composed and formal, but I supposed losing your only child could change things.

  She was wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt.

  I’d never seen her in anything other than some sort of professional dress. Whether I had seen her at one of her restaurants or at home, she was always impeccably dressed.

  She stood and the two of us shared a quick hug. She glanced beyond me at Parker.

  “This is Parker,” I said by way of introduction. “We’re getting married.”

  A flash of momentary shock flashed across her visage. She didn’t try to hide it.

  “Congratulations,” she said dryly.

  I thanked her and sat as Parker went to place our coffee order.

  I’m sorry for your loss seemed inappropriate again, but I was starting to learn that there really wasn’t anything else to say.

  Carla took a deep breath. “Thank you for coming here. I just wanted to meet with you in person to talk about something.”

  I nodded, encouraging her to continue.

  I watched as tears filled her eyes. “God, it’s not supposed to be like this. You know? Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children.”

  “You’re right. I don’t even know what to say. I don’t know how to handle this.”

  “No one does, Roxanna. It’s hell. It’s a horrible situation no matter how you look at it.”

  I nodded. Parker joine
d us as he waited for our drinks.

  “We’re having a memorial on Thursday. I hope you can make it.” She pushed a card across the table toward me. Martins Funeral Home was splayed in gaudy lettering across the top. Under the title was the address and phone number. Someone had filled in Damien’s name along with the date and time on the lines provided under the business information.

  God.

  This fucking card made it all so real again.

  I stared down at it for a moment, and then Carla interrupted my silent grief.

  “Damien mailed a package to us a few months ago. Inside of it was this box.” She paused as she handed a small box over to me. “He included a note inside that said to give this to you if anything ever happened to him. It was like he knew.” Her voice broke at the end.

  “To me?”

  She nodded as I took the package. It was light. The top of the box simply said “ROXANNA” in thick black marker. I recognized Damien’s penmanship immediately.

  I felt his presence as I held the one remaining thing I would ever have from him.

  That surreal feeling lanced through me again. This couldn’t really be happening.

  Yet it was.

  “Okay. Well thank you.” I had nothing else to say.

  “I also wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me? What for?”

  “For everything you did for Damien. He loved you. You made him happy for a long time.”

  “He made me happy, too.” She didn’t need to know that I hadn’t realized true happiness until I’d found Parker. Those details seemed best left out given the situation.

  I saw Parker twitch beside me. This couldn’t be easy for him, but he was handling it well.

  We heard the barista call his name, and he went to pick up our drinks.

  “That’s all, really. I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to give you the package, and ever since he left, I’ve been leery of discussing things over the phone. Call me crazy, but I always feel like someone’s listening. Maybe that feeling will finally go away now.”

  It probably would. Randy had nothing left with Damien’s family now that he’d killed Damien.

  I thought about how many lives Randy was ruining. I wasn’t sure why we couldn’t call the police. I wasn’t sure why he was getting away with what he did.

  Suddenly I was furious at the whole situation.

  My emotions were all over the place, and once again a part of me longed for the indifference I’d forced on myself for so long.

  I was sad. I was angry. I was in mourning. I was in love.

  I wasn’t sure what the fuck I was half the goddamn time.

  Parker came back with our drinks, and Carla stood. “Nice meeting you,” she said, her eyes scanning him.

  “I’m so sorry for what you are going through,” he said. “I know my words won’t ease your pain, but I hope you find peace.”

  “Thank you.”

  And that was it. Carla left. Parker looked at the box on the table in front of me. It was a just a small and simple cardboard box with my name on it.

  I wondered what was in it. It was odd holding a piece of Damien in my hands after I’d eliminated just about every piece of him from my life except for a couple of things shoved to the back of a drawer in my bathroom.

  Perhaps that note he had left me hadn’t been the last note he’d ever written me. Perhaps there was another one right inside of the box on the table in front of me.

  “What do you think it is?” Parker asked as he sat across from me.

  I shrugged.

  He took a sip of his coffee while I stared down at the box. “You want to open it?”

  “Not here. Let’s go home.”

  He nodded. We picked up our coffees and I picked up the box.

  I felt anxious the whole way home. It seemed like every red light was working against us, like every car in front of us was driving below the speed limit.

  But when we finally arrived home, I was too afraid to actually open it.

  I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was dying to know, but at the same time, I was terrified to know. What the hell could possibly be inside of that box?

  So it sat on my counter like a ticking time bomb.

  Parker stared at it when he walked by.

  I stared at it when I walked by.

  I felt like it was looking back at me, like da Vinci’s famous Mona Lisa painting, its eyes following me around the room.

  It was awkward and strange and confusing.

  But I wasn’t ready to open it.

  I wasn’t ready to see the last thing I’d ever see from Damien.

  I didn’t feel like I was holding onto the past. I just felt like this was the only thing I had left to keep Damien’s memory alive. How do you just tear into a box that holds the very last thing that someone ever meant for you to have?

  It was almost two hours after we’d gotten home. We were in the kitchen making grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner when Parker finally asked, “Are you going to open that?”

  I shrugged, and he smiled, trying to make light of the situation.

  “What’s in the box?” he said, mimicking Brad Pitt’s character at the end of the movie Seven.

  It was maybe the first time I’d smiled since I’d left Starbucks.

  “Fine. I’ll open it.”

  twenty

  I pulled a pair of scissors out of a drawer and slit the tape that Damien had carefully placed along the top of the box. I opened it and found two envelopes inside with packing peanuts.

  Both envelopes were blank on the front. I opened the top one first. It was a letter.

  February 14

  Roxanna,

  Your dad has been keeping me safe, which you may know by now. If you don’t, you should probably talk to your dad. You may be in danger next. I got into some things that I never expected, and staying with you only would’ve put you in danger. If you’re reading this now, it’s because I’m gone. I promise not to haunt you. That’s not what this letter is about. It’s to warn you. I can’t name names because who knows whose hands this letter might get into, but you probably know a certain business associate of your father’s who gambles professionally. If I’m gone and foul play is suspected, point all fingers to that person.

  I’ve done a lot of thinking in the last several months, and I can’t think of a better time than Valentine’s Day to write this letter to you. I love you, Roxy, but I think we both know what we had, especially now that it’s gone. I relied on you for things, and you relied on me for things. We had some amazing times together, but we both know that we never could have made it the distance. We were both too fucked up to make things work together. I’m sorry for the times I didn’t let you in. I’m sorry for the times you felt used. You kept quiet about it, but I know you felt it.

  Above all else, I’m sorry for the way I left. You deserved a goodbye. The way I left you was shitty, and I hope you moved on quickly. Well, not too quickly. I hope there was some level of sadness. Only because I know I will never get over you. You will always own a part of my heart, a part that only you deserves to own. I hope a small part of your heart belongs to me, too, but not the big part. I want more than anything for you to give the big part to someone else, to someone who deserves you. Maybe you’ve already met him, and maybe you haven’t, but I just have one word of advice for you: Never let him treat you the way I did. Never let him keep secrets, and never let him get by without confiding in you. I often think about how different things could have been if I just would have been honest with you, but we both know that wondering doesn’t do any good. If something is meant to last forever, it will. Obviously that wasn’t our path.

  Something in the way you loved me will always remain in my heart. I’d tell you to come as you are, but it’s probably better if you stay away.

  Forever yours,

  D

  I read the letter four times before I looked up at Parker. He was staring at me intently.

  “Well?
” he asked.

  A thousand thoughts ran through my head. He’d written me on Valentine’s Day. I remembered my Valentine’s Day. It was during the horrid stretch of indifference I’d felt until the moment I’d met Parker. I didn’t care about anything at the time. I hadn’t cared about love, about sex, about hate, about sadness. It had all just been an empty existence set on repeat. It was strange for me to think that he’d already wanted me to move on at that point. I supposed it just took meeting the right person for me to move on, and once I’d met him, the rest fell into place. It certainly hadn’t been an easy road, but now that we were only days away from pledging our commitment to one another for the rest of our lives, it was clear that everything that had happened was because our paths were fated to cross.

  I shrugged and handed Parker the letter.

  He chuckled at the line about haunting me, just as I had the first time I’d read it through. I watched my fiancé as his eyes scanned the letter. I wondered what was going through his mind.

  “You okay?” I asked once he finished reading and his eyes met mine.

  He nodded. “I should be asking you that.”

  “I’m fine. Somehow it comforts me to know that he wanted me to be happy.”

  “I get that. Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Happy?” He whispered the word, as if he was afraid of my answer.

  I nodded. “I don’t think I knew true happiness until you.”

  He smiled, acknowledging my words. I saw a hint of relief pass through his features. “Are going to open the second envelope?”

  I’d almost forgotten there was even a second one in there.

  I slit it open with my finger and pulled out a piece of paper. It was a smaller paper, and only one word was written on it: NEVERMIND.

  Never mind was actually two words, but this was no time for a grammar lesson.

  Never mind? Was he telling me to forget what he’d written in his letter?

  Or was he telling me to forget about the past we had shared?

  Never mind?

  I was colossally confused.