All of It (26 page)

“It seems a shame to waste this opportunity. Your parents are gone and the house is empty,” he whispers in my ear and a ragged sigh escapes him. “But Sunny is expecting me back.” He pulls the hair back from the side of my neck and kisses it … again … and again.

My knees grow weak as I turn slowly to face him, not wanting to interrupt the sensation of his lips on my skin. “I don’t want you to leave either.” His kisses continue under my chin. “But we have all week.” My breath is shallow. “It’s only Sunday morning. Go home and get some rest and come back this afternoon. I’ll be waiting.”

His lips finally find mine and though we’re both exhausted, we kiss with passionate energy. We grudgingly part after a few minutes. His eyes are intently focused on mine, though his eyelids are drooping.

“You need to go home and get some rest, Mr. Sleepy Face.”

“I can sleep when I’m dead.”

“You might get the chance. If you don’t get home soon Sunny may kill you.”

He smiles. “You might be right. She should’ve let you sleep in the guest room at our house tonight, but my mom’s pretty old fashioned.”

“Old fashioned or smart? She knows you too well. She knows you wouldn’t be able to stay away from me. I’m too tempting, remember?” I kiss him teasingly.

I suddenly find myself coiled in his embrace again. “Okay, when you put it that way, Sunny’s a genius.” He kisses me on the forehead.

I hug him tightly. “I love you … now go.”

He kisses the top of my head and releases me. “I love you more. Sleep well, baby.”

He waves as he backs down the driveway.

Sleep comes seconds after my head hits the pillow, and with it, a series of the strange dreams I’ve grown accustomed too. A predictable graduation dream ensues with Dimitri and me in the starring roles. The setting is right—a high school auditorium—but the clothing is all wrong. We look like a bunch of hippies. It’s almost embarrassing to watch even though I’m distinctly aware it’s only a dream. Dimitri is still unbelievably good-looking, but his long hair and clothes are ridiculous. My parents are there in the audience, looking exactly as they did yesterday, overflowing with pride. My eyes return again and again to their faces. I just can’t get enough, wanting to remember every detail; their smiles, their looks of pride, the way my dad claps and my mother wipes her eyes. The memories seem to almost be frozen in time. I’m positive I’m dreaming with a satisfied smile spread across my face. I’m sleep-smiling.

I wake with my mom and dad’s happy faces still swimming through my head. The clock on my nightstand tells me it’s almost noon. I decide I’d better shower and get dressed; hopefully Dimitri will be over soon to spend the day with me. That thought makes the smile on my face grow even wider.

Just as I finish up in the shower and turn off the water, I hear my cell phone ringing. I wrap myself in a towel and hurry to my room, sure it will be Dimitri. It isn’t. It’s a number I don’t recognize, a number that I normally would ignore but the instantaneous knot in my stomach prompts me to answer it. Maybe it’s my parents calling from a hotel.

“Hello,” I say quietly.

It is a man’s voice. “Veronica Smith?” he asks, sounding official.

The knot in my stomach grows. “Yes.”

His voice grows gentler, but in a rehearsed and official sort of way. “Are you the child of William and Josephine Smith?”

My mind is racing. His voice isn’t right. This doesn’t feel right. “Yes,” I say in a quivering voice. A wave of nausea rolls through me.

“Miss Smith, this is Officer Ryan Johnston with the Nebraska State Patrol. I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your parents were in an automobile accident this morning near Lincoln, Nebraska—”

I burst in before he can finish, “An accident? What kind of accident? Are they okay? Can I talk to them?” Suddenly I’m frantic.

“I’m afraid their vehicle was struck by a semi, head on, at 75 miles per hour on Interstate 80.” He pauses, and I know the rest before he says it.

For a moment the world stops. Time stops. My heart stops. I inhale deeply and speak in a voice that doesn’t sound like mine anymore. “They didn’t survive, did they?”

The man’s voice turns weary, human, and sad. “I’m very sorry. They were killed instantly.”

I allow the words to wash over me. I feel numb, as if I’m outside my body, disconnected, watching this all play out.

“Miss Smith, are you there?”

My voice is monotone. Dead. Like my family. “Yes.”

“Miss Smith, I will arrange to have local law enforcement officer visit you as soon as possible. Are you home?”

The shock is setting in, seeping in through every pore. “That won’t be necessary.” I want to be alone.

“Miss Smith, this is protocol.” His voice is calm.

“That won’t be necessary,” I repeat.

“Miss, your parents have been taken to the Lincoln Mortuary in Lincoln, Nebraska. The director there—a mister Russell Clark—will be in contact with you later this afternoon to make arrangements.” The formal, official voice flips back to the human voice. “I am so sorry, Miss Smith. Do you have a family member that we can call? I see here you’re only eighteen. In times like these, we are able to phone family members if need be.”

“No … no, sir I don’t … it’s just me … call me … just have them … call me.” The room is starting to spin. A vortex that I’m certain will suck me in whole.

“Miss Smith, are you sure I can’t have someone local stop by to check on you?” His voice is still calm but laced with concern.

“No one … thank you.” I hang up and drop the phone on the floor, where it shatters into pieces.

I stand there, half-wrapped in a towel.
Shattered
.

My mind is numb, yet my senses are momentarily heightened and I’m acutely aware of the smallest, most inconsequential details. I feel the wet carpet beneath my feet where I’ve been dripping since I got out of the shower. I hear the hum of the air conditioning unit just outside my window. I smell the floral scent of my freshly-washed hair. I see the tear in the wallpaper above the switch plate on my wall.

I don’t know how long I stand there, not moving an inch, still half-wrapped in the towel, still staring at the tear in the wallpaper. Everything else has faded away, except that tear.

I don’t hear.

I don’t smell.

I don’t feel.

And then … I drop.

I drop to the floor and begin to cry. It isn’t a hysterical cry, just a quiet, almost detached cry. I hug my knees to my chest and lie there, helpless. I close my eyes and see nothing. I decide I like that better. The tears subside.

I am not sad.

I am not scared.

I just
am
.

And that is enough, preferable even.

Time goes by.

I am vaguely aware of sounds outside and a voice. I do not allow myself to receive them, or try to decipher them.

I just
am
.

I am vaguely aware of someone’s hands on my face shouting at me. I do not allow myself to focus on them.

I just
am
.

I am vaguely aware of my body shaking violently and the sensation of something heavy and soft draped around me. But I do not allow myself to feel.

I just
am
.

And then I hear cries of pain, someone shouting my name as though being tortured. I snap back to reality, opening my eyes to see Dimitri’s agonized face hanging over me.

“Veronica,” he sobs. “Ronnie what’s wrong? What happened?”

I can’t move. I realize how
warm
it is. I’m under a blanket. “How did you get in here?” is all I manage to squeak out.

He pulls me into his arms and sobs. “You didn’t answer your phone. You didn’t answer the house phone. I thought you were sleeping, but I’ve been calling for three hours,” he gulps, swallows, and continues, “I was worried, so I came over. You didn’t answer the door when I rang the bell. I went around to the back and peeked in your window, and saw you lying on the floor.” He sobs again, coughing and sniffing. “I broke out the window in the back door. What happened? Are you hurt?”

I don’t answer. My brain has completely shut down and I have to focus to even remember why I’m lying on the floor in the first place. A hollow, disengaged voice begins retracing my steps. “I was in the shower, and then there was a phone call. And then I got the carpet all wet, and did you realize that there’s a tear in the wallpaper by the door?” I point weakly at the wall.

He takes my shoulders firmly in both hands and sits me up to face him. He looks at me with wet eyes. “I don’t care about the damn wallpaper, Ronnie. Are you okay? What happened?”

And then the curtain drops. The barrier that’s allowed me to feel nothing for the past few hours disappears. It all comes flooding through, uninvited, and completely overwhelming. The man’s voice in my head repeats over and over, “I’m very sorry. They were killed instantly. I’m very sorry. They were killed instantly. I’m very sorry, they were killed instantly.” The tears are immediate and fierce. I begin pounding the floor with my fists and repeating along with the incessant chant in my head, “I’m very sorry. They were killed instantly. I’m very sorry. They were killed instantly.” It’s almost unintelligible, but grows in volume with each iteration. “I’m very sorry. They were killed instantly. I’m very sorry. They were killed instantly.” The chant nears a blood-curdling scream.
Dimitri has taken me by the wrists forcefully and effectively restraining me, afraid I’m going to hurt myself. He’s shouting my name over my endless rant. “Ronnie!” His primal scream brings me out of my trance. I collapse forward into his lap and sob uncontrollably.

He strokes my hair gently. His voice is suddenly calm. “It’s your parents, isn’t it?”

Words don’t come, so I nod instead.

“They were killed? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” The calmness radiates through his hand as he continues to stroke my hair.

I peek up at him through puffy, tear-filled eyes and nod again.

“Ronnie, I am so, so sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “How did you find out? What happened?” His voice cracks again and I see his eyes welling with tears.

I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, unsure if I’ll be able to speak. “A highway patrol officer called. He said there had been an accident. They were hit head-on by a semi. They were—”

Dimitri finishes my sentence. “—killed instantly.”

I nod, and my bottom lip begins to quiver uncontrollably again.

Dimitri bends down and kisses me gently on the cheek. “What else did the officer say? Where are they now?”

I sit up slowly, cocooning myself in the blanket. “He said it happened near Lincoln, Nebraska. They’re at the mortuary there … oh, damn it!”

“What?” he says urgently.

I point at the shattered remains of my cell phone on the floor. “I broke my phone. They’re supposed to call me this afternoon.”

“Baby, it’s six o’clock at night. The afternoon is gone.”

“What? Six?” I glance at the clock on my nightstand—6:07. “How’d it get so late? What should I do?” I start gasping for breath; the hysterics are starting in again.

Dimitri takes my face in his hands, shushing me gently. “You put some clothes on while I go upstairs and check the phone for messages. Someone probably called the home phone when they couldn’t get through on your cell.” He kisses my forehead. “Will you be okay? I’ll only be gone a minute.”

I nod slowly. After Dimitri leaves, I pull a T-shirt and jeans out of the dresser drawer and dress as quickly as my sluggish mind will allow my body to move.

Once upstairs, I drop into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and watch Dimitri making us tea while he talks quietly on his cell phone. The conversation is a gentle hum in the background. Numbness has permeated every inch of my being. I unthinkingly drink the tea he presents and feel the mild sensation of being warmed from the inside. It is neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

I begin to wonder if my life, as I’ve known it, is over. What happens when your world’s torn apart? What happens when everything changes in the blink of an eye?

Dimitri finishes his call and sits down next to me. He takes my hand and wipes away the tears I didn’t realize are trickling down my cheeks.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I called Sunny and she’s on her way over now. There was a message on the answering machine from the Lincoln Mortuary and one from the Nebraska State Patrol. I called the mortuary to let them know you received the message and that you would call them in the morning. Is there anyone else you need me to call, anyone you would like to talk to?” His voice is calm and gentle. Rational.

“No. Thank you for being here. I don’t know what to do.”

He strokes my hair. “I know. You have me and Sunny and Sebastian. We’ll help you through this. You aren’t alone. We love you.”

I hug as tightly as I can, fearful he’ll slip away. He’s all I have left. Letting go scares me to death.

There’s a knock on the back door and through blurry eyes I watch Sunny appear. She leans down next to us and begins to rub my back, but I still can’t let go of Dimitri. She doesn’t speak for several minutes.

Finally I find the strength to let go and turn to face her. Her eyes are puffy and moist with tears. “Veronica, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Sunny and Dimitri insist that I come with them to spend the night at their house. Dimitri boards up the window he broke out earlier and Sunny packs a bag with some clothes, pajamas, and my toothbrush. We all leave in Sunny’s car.

The majority of the night is spent sitting around Sunny’s kitchen table. Sebastian joins us and they don’t let me out of their sight. The evening is a blur.

The next morning Sunny guides me through a maze of complex questions with delicate, efficient precision. Unfortunately, she’s been in my shoes not so long ago after losing her husband, and she knows what I’m in for. She makes notes of everything we talk about because she knows I’m in no condition to remember my own name, let alone the decisions that are being made. Anything she overlooks Dimitri and Sebastian add to the list.

I’m so grateful that my parents shared their wishes with me after my grandmother’s death two years ago. It wasn’t a morbid conversation at the time; my dad said that death is a fact of life, and one of the only things that we are all guaranteed. My parents made it clear that they wanted to be cremated and have their ashes spread in a place of the surviving family’s choosing, someplace we would enjoy visiting—not a depressing cemetery. And there is to be no funeral—they made that very clear.