sad smile. “Let’s go, Stass.” I frown, wondering why we’re leaving in the middle of the school day and more importantly why he’s so solemn, but I’m too afraid to ask.
Minutes later, we’re in his car and he still hasn’t told me what’s happening.
“Dominic, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
“Stas—” His voice breaks and he shakes his head slowly.
Hearing the emotion in his voice is like a punch to the gut and I find myself struggling to breathe. I’m not sure what a panic attack feels like, but I think the way my throat is closing up and my heart is racing is pretty close to what it feels like. I unbuckle my seatbelt, desperate not to feel the weight of the belt against my chest for a second longer. The tension in the car is so thick it’s almost unbearable and despite the rain falling on this particularly cold April day I roll the window down slightly.
“Where are we going?” I manage out between deep breaths.
“In and out, sweetheart.” My eyes flick to him, hearing the term of endearment he hadn’t used in years. I move my gaze away from his face to the steering wheel, noting his firm grip that has his knuckles turning white.
“Dominic,” I repeat his name, “I’m not kidding around. You yank me out of school without a word in the middle of the school day. What the fuck?”
His eyes move away from the road for no more than a second to chastise me for my language I’m sure. He doesn’t, but I see the brief scolding look in his eyes before he turns back to the road. His brows are furrowed as if he’s angry but I can see the devastation in his eyes and he has the posture of a man that looks as if he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders. Slumped and defeated and so unlike how he usually carries himself. Every few seconds his Adam’s apple bobs, like he’s struggling to swallow and suddenly the need to comfort him overwhelms me like a wave threatening to take me under.
“I’ll tell you as soon as we get there. I’m worried…” He swallows. “Worried that once I say it, I’m going to lose it. And you…” He lets out a deep breath. “You’re definitely going to lose it.”
* * *
I don’t say anything in response to Dominic’s ominous comment. Instead, I let my mind run wild with all of the possible scenarios. I note that we aren’t going to my house, but we’re taking the familiar route to where my mother works. Feelings of dread pool in my stomach in hopes that we’re just going to visit my mother and not that someone we know is in the hospital. Those feelings of dread turn to terror as he pulls into the Emergency Room parking lot which is not the entrance we would use if this was just a friendly visit.
Dominic shuts off the car and rests his forehead against the steering wheel before a deep sigh leaves his mouth. “Stassia…I’m so sorry.”
“For…what?”
“For what I’m about to tell you…” Tears pool in his eyes but they dissipate when he clears his throat. “Your mom…” he chokes out.
And instantly my worst fear comes to life.
The funeral falls on the coldest, rainiest day of April. My teeth chatter together as we sit beneath the tent at the gravesite and I chastise myself for not wearing a heavier coat like my grandmother advised. I pull the black jacket tighter around me and bounce my legs both out of nerves and to warm my bare legs. I hear sniffles around me every few moments and Dominic grips my hand tighter as if to say I’m here. I can tell he’s trying to keep it together for me, but I haven’t cried yet and his eyes won’t stop watering.
“I can’t…I can’t fix it. I’m so sorry.” He says this over and over under his breath.
I still don’t cry despite hearing the emotion in his voice. I don’t know why I’m not having that reaction when I loved my mother more than anyone in the world. But the tears don’t come. I don’t even feel the familiar prickle. I feel numb. Hollow. Like I’m in a dream where feelings and sensations don’t exist. I let go of Dominic’s hands and pinch myself for the hundredth time in the past week. God, are you sure I’m not dreaming?
It’s been a week since my mother died and I