“Yes,” I say quietly.
“Would you...read it?” he asks. The smallness of his voice wrenches at my heart. I nod silently and hold the note up to the firelight.
“To my darling son Lukas and my beautiful friend Hannah,” I read. She’s included me in her final words? Fresh tears course down my cheeks, falling one by one onto the page. “I hope you understand why I wanted it to end this way. So much has happened in my life that’s been beyond my control. I thought it might be nice to have one last moment of agency in this world. I have two requests from you, my dearest children. First, and most importantly, I want you to take care of each other. Both of you have suffered greatly, and deserve a new chance at all of life’s happiness. Help each other. Heal each other. Love each other, in whatever way you can. I’ll be eternally grateful if you’d do this for me. I love you both so, so much—do promise me that you’ll be good, and kind, and patient with each other. I know that, if you just try, you’ll be able to change each other’s lives. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.
My second request is far simpler. Don’t have a funeral for me. I’ve always despised black clothing. Far too morbid. Instead, do something grand in my honor. A gala, a ball, right here at the estate. I would like that very much. You’d look very nice together, in a tuxedo and a gown. Not to make my hopes for you too transparent.
Goodnight, my darlings. I’ll love you both, forever.”
No signature graces the bottom of the note. Her love speaks for itself. Silence rushes in as I finish reading Gertrude’s final message. It’s no small task she’s asked of us.
Lukas looks up at me in the flickering light of the fire. His cheeks are shining, his eyes dewy with slow, steady tears. I’m stunned into stillness. For a moment that stretches on beyond time itself, we sit together in that warm room, wondering at the rest of our lives.
“Hannah,” Lukas finally says, his voice gruff and raw, “We have to...”
“Yes,” I reply, reaching for his hand, “We will. I will.”
“So will I.”
Our vows rise into the air like wisps of smoke, binding us together. An eternity rises up before us, but we don’t flinch. With Gertrude’s indomitable strength behind us, anything in the world suddenly seems possible again.
Chapter Eighteen
-Lukas-
Hannah, Thomas and I stand on the front steps together in somber silence. The tail lights of the coroner’s vehicle grow fainter and fainter, until they finally wink out of existence around the bend in our long drive.
A hush descends upon the estate. Not even the resident choir of crickets stirs, rendered silent by the sudden weight of grief. We’ve all been preparing ourselves for the moment of Mother’s departure, but now that she’s gone, the very air tastes different. I can scarcely believe that the estate itself doesn’t implode, having finally lost its favorite daughter.
I feel Hannah’s finger lace themselves through my own, and I suddenly remember that I have more support than I could have hoped for. Hannah will keep me upright, help me face the coming days. If she hadn’t arrived on the scene before Mother took a turn for the worse, I don’t know what I would have done. I don’t know how I could have faced this moment without her by my side. Even with her here, I’m not at all sure how to carry on.
“Well...” I mutter, my voice raw, “I suppose...there’s nothing left to do, tonight.”
“I suppose there isn’t,” Thomas replies, his wrinkled face lined with bright rivers of tears. “There will be plenty to figure out tomorrow. People will want to know about a memorial service.”
“No,” I say fiercely, staring up into the twilight, “She didn’t want that.”
“But, Mrs. Roth was a respected woman,” Thomas insists, “People will want to pay their—”
“She had other ideas,” Hannah says, smiling sadly. “Gertrude asked that we skip the funeral entirely and throw her a gala, instead.”
“A gala?” Thomas says, rolling the idea around in his head. “Well...that sounds like a perfect tribute if I’ve ever heard of one. We’ll begin the planning tomorrow. But for tonight...perhaps we’d all be better off turning in. Can I bring anything up to your room, Mr. Roth?”
I look up at the estate, the towering Tudor that I’ve always called home. Suddenly, the prospect of spending a night in this place is more than I can bear. Without Mother inside, warming the very floorboards with her indomitable will and character, the place seems like a dusty crypt. The ghosts of my family are all that remain there.
As if reading my mind, Hannah edges in closer to me and speaks up, “Maybe you can stay with me in the annex tonight, Lukas?”
I look down at her kind, vibrant eyes. “Perhaps...” I begin, “That would be for the best. I don’t think that I’m ready to be alone...”
“Of course,” Thomas says, cutting me off mercifully. “If there’s anything you two need tonight, I’ll be in the servant’s wing, as ever. Someone has to hold down the fort, after all. Try to get some sleep. It’s been a very long day, after all.”
The butler turns on his heel and walks slowly back into the living tomb that is my family home. The heavy wooden doors swing shut behind him, closing with a low thud. That unambiguous, final sound shakes something loose inside of me. A long-forgotten pressure starts to build in my chest as Hannah and I stand together in the gathering dusk.
I feel...exposed. Susceptible. Though I’ve learned to suppress my every emotion these past seven years, I could almost swear that I might begin to weep. Almost is the imperative word. I’m too far gone to even shed a tear for my mother’s passing, monster that I am.
“Come on,” Hannah says softly, wrapping her lean arm around my waist. Her blonde bob scarcely brushes my shoulder, and though she’s anything but a waif, her mass is tiny compared to my own. And yet, as we make our way around the house, back toward the annex, she is the one supporting me, keeping me from crumbling to pieces. Usually, I’d be loathe to let anyone, especially a woman, offer me any measure of comfort or sympathy. But Hannah’s care is so honest, so without agenda or ulterior motive, that I can’t help but appreciate it.
She pushes open the red door of the shabby little cottage and leads me inside. Together, we settle down onto the living room couch, tucking ourselves in amongst the throw pillows and quilts. Hannah extracts herself with grace and turns on the electric fireplace. Kneeling down before me, she lays her hands on my knees and smiles with all the goodness in the world.
“Can I get you anything?” she asks, “Maybe something to eat, or—?”
I silence her offer, pulling her up onto my lap and wrapping my arms around her perfect body. She throws her arms around my shoulders, burying her face in my neck. Tucking her knees, Hannah gives herself over entirely to my embrace. I breathe her in, shutting out the entire world as it exists beyond this tiny home, this moment in time.
If there was only a way to cut off everything else in the universe and start fresh. What joy it would be to cast off my grief, my responsibility, and spend the rest of my life memorizing the feel of this woman’s body. I pull her in tighter, wishing that we could fuse ourselves into one invincible person, rather than the two broken souls that we are.
“It’s going to be OK Lukas,” she whispers, smoothing down my short hair, “I’m going to help you, just like your mother’s note said. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m not going to leave.”
“You can’t promise that,” I say through gritted teeth. “You don’t know...”
“I suppose not,” she sighs, laying her cheek against mine, “But I’ll do everything in my power, from this day on, to always be here when you need me. That much, I can swear.”
“Hannah,” I growl, cupping her chin in my hand, “You’d be a fool to stay here with me.”
“Why do you say that?” she breathes, her eyes misting over with hurt.
“I’m...I’m not a good person,” I tell her, every word a labor in itself. “The people I care about, the pe
ople I try to protect...they always end up getting hurt, in the end. I can’t give you what you’re looking for, Hannah. I can keep you company, I can let you walk beside me through life, but I can’t let you in. I can’t love you.”
“I...I don’t understand,” she whispers, dropping her gaze, “Did I do something wrong?”
“Of course not,” I say, “I’m just...That part of me is broken, Hannah. Beyond repair. You wouldn’t want me to love you, anyway. Being loved by someone like me is dangerous.”
“And you don’t think I know what danger is?” she shoots back, her eyes sparking with outrage. “You’re not the only one who’s been hurt, Lukas. You’re not the only one who’s known pain. It was your Mother’s dying wish that we try and help one another, but I can’t do anything for you if you’re going to shut me out from the start. I’m not going to let you write us off before we even know each other, Lukas. I refuse.”
“Stubborn as hell, aren’t you?” I say, with a sad smile.
“You bet your ass,” she says, sliding off my lap to sit beside me on the couch. “I know that today, this week, has been hard. I know that you’re hurting, and that the last thing you want to do is wade deeper into the pain, but...I want to be honest with you, Lukas. I don’t want to stumble on ahead, ignoring this thing that’s building up between us. For whatever reason, I trust you. Completely. I want to prove how much. I want to let you in, and be honest with you. Will you listen, Lukas? Will you let me open myself to you, so that you can open yourself to me?”
“I don’t know if I can do that Hannah,” I tell her, “That’s my honest conviction. That’s my truth. It might just be too hard for me.”
“Then let me start,” she whispers, tucking her legs beneath her on the couch. “Is that OK?”
“OK,” I sigh.
“Good,” she says, standing from the couch.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“To get a drink,” she replies, walking toward the kitchen. “There’s a bottle of whiskey in here that seems perfectly suited for a night of admissions. I know I’m going to need a little lubrication to get through this myself.”
“By all means,” I say, watching her fine shape sway on over to the kitchen. It's clear that Hannah is intent on fulfilling my Mother’s last request—that she and I do our damnedest to heal each other’s wounds, no matter how deep. I suppose it’s the least I can do to give it a try.
Hannah returns with a bottle of brown liquor tucked under her arm and a lowball glass in each hand. She places the glasses down onto the coffee table and pours a couple of stiff whiskey neats. The flickering firelight plays against the fine, amber colored liquid, reminding me of the light in Mother’s room as we found her, not hours before. I can’t tell if it’s more or less painful, knowing that she ushered death in herself.
Surely, there was no hope for her recovery, and yet I wonder. Suicide has never seemed like an option to me. If I could ever have conceived of it as anything other than base and cowardly, I probably would have killed myself years ago. But even though I know my mother was simply putting an end to a painful and drawn-out condition, I can’t help but mourn her decision itself. Of course she had every right to choose her own moment to exit this world, but it’s going to take some time before I can fully respect her decision.
I take a glass and hold it up to Hannah’s for a toast. Our gazes lock, and each of us knows exactly what we’re drinking to.
“To Gertrude Roth,” Hannah says, “And the amazing son she raised. I’m so glad to have known her, and to know you now, Lukas.”
“To my mother,” I agree, “The most incredible woman in the world. And to you, Hannah, for everything you did for her. For everything you’ve already done for me.”
We clink glasses and savor the first sips of our whiskey. It’s a strong, smoky bottle—precisely the thing for tonight. If we’re going to take a stab at this honesty thing, I’m going to need a little help.
“Oddly enough...this feels right, in a way,” I tell Hannah.
“What do you mean?” she asks, sitting beside me on the couch.
“Today has been...extraordinarily painful,” I explain, “This whole ordeal...it’s worn me down. Normally, my guard is air tight. I think that this is the only time that I could ever even consider being open with you, Hannah. The world seems orderless, out of control. It’s terrifying, but at the same time, there’s an opportunity here that would never exist otherwise. I’m sorry...is any of this making sense?”
“I think so...” Hannah says, “These are...extraordinary circumstances. Which means that extraordinary things can happen. Even between two people as hopeless as us?”
“You’re not hopeless,” I tell her adamantly, “Anything but.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she smiles, “But you don’t know much about me yet, Lukas. I thought that I'd be comfortable just giving my body over to you, no questions asked. I feel so attracted to you, I thought it would be enough to know you physically. But lately...I’ve realized that that isn’t true. I don’t just want to fuck you and walk away, Lukas. I want to be here for you, help you, support you. I’m not asking you to love me, but I want you to know me. I don’t know where this is leading, but I think that honesty is a good place to start.”
“I think you’re right,” I say softly, “But you might need to lead the way.”
“I know,” she says. She takes another long sip of whiskey and pushes herself up off the couch. Placing down her glass, Hannah takes the hem of her tee shirt in her hands.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my breath caught in my throat. “I thought—?”
“I need to show you something,” she says, her voice thin with the effort of revelation. “Please.”
I shut my mouth and let her carry on. Closing her eyes tightly, Hannah lifts her thin cotton shirt up over her breasts. For a moment, my eyes cannot tear themselves away from the perfect twin swells of her tits, scarcely contained by her pink, lacy bra. But a dark smear across her ribcage catches my eye. My gaze rakes down her torso, and I feel my stomach churn in appalled rage.
Her entire midsection is covered in bruises—some old, some new. There are layers and layers of them, from the barely noticeable yellow patches of skin to the violent new purplish streaks. Hannah’s eyes stay shut tightly as I take in the enormity of what it is she’s showing me.
“Hannah...” I breathe, outrage boiling through my veins, “Who did this to you?”
She lets her tee shirt fall back down, cloaking the evidence of her mistreatment. But I’ll always know what lies beneath that flimsy layer of fabric, now. Even when the bruises have faded, I’ll never forget what her body has been through. It doesn’t weaken her in my eyes, though. Her resilience only makes me respect her more.
“I...had this boyfriend,” she says, opening her eyes. Barely contained tears glisten there in the firelight. “His name was—is—Sloan. We dated for years. I was so convinced that I was in love with him that I never even noticed what a horrible, violent person he was. At first, I thought his rough streak was normal dominant stuff, you know? Just being a guy." She says, dropping her gaze.
"When he crossed the line into being abusive...at first, I was too afraid to act on it. I got swept up. I was scared, and too insecure to say anything. Sloan wasn’t the first person to treat my body without any respect, Lukas. There was an incident when I was young...a family friend raped me when I was too drunk to stop him. I have a long history of being hurt by men who claim to love me, Lukas. So don’t think for a second that I have any problem leaving love completely out of our relationship. In fact...I might prefer it that way myself.”
I stare up at Hannah, the barrage of information she’s let loose is threatening to drown me. Anger, disgust, and a fierce protective instinct are all battling for prominence within me. I want to throttle this Sloan character, show him exactly what it feel like to be defenseless. I want to go back in time and snatch Hannah’s younger self away from her unfeeling, unsafe h
ome. That someone as caring and selfless as Hannah should have to go through so much torment only confirms my convictions that the world is a senseless and endlessly cruel place. As if I needed any more proof of that.
“I should kill the motherfucker,” I growl, shooting back the rest of my whiskey and pouring another.
“Which one?” Hannah says with a sad smile. “They can’t hurt me anymore, Lukas. Not even Sloan. Though God knows he’s still trying to get back into my life.”
“What?” I demand, “He’s still in contact with you?”
“Yes...” Hannah says, biting her lip. “We only just broke up a few months ago. He still calls. Incessantly. The other week...You have to promise not to freak out...”
“I’ll promise nothing like that,” I tell her, “What happened the other week.”
“I...I was back at the apartment, getting some things to bring here...I must have left the front door open or something, because he managed to get inside.”
“Hannah,” I say, rising in a state of enraged concern, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” she says in a small voice, “You knew nothing about me, Lukas. And your mother...it didn’t seem like the right time. Besides, I feel safe here. There’s no way Sloan could get to me. I’ll change my phone number, steer clear of him, and sooner or later he’ll give up...right?”
“I doubt it,” I tell her, pushing my fingers through my hair, “Men like that don’t understand the word ‘no’ and they don't like to lose. I doubt very much that he’s through terrorizing you, Hannah. But I can tell you one thing's for sure—he’s never going to hurt you again. I’m here, now. And I won’t let that lowlife cause you any more pain. I’m so sorry that you had to go through what you did with him. And the other pathetic little ape when you were young. How can you still be so good when so many bad things have happened to you?”
“I don’t know why you’re so convinced that I’m good,” Hannah says, shaking her head, “You say that I’m caring, and selfless, but do you want to know the truth? Other people’s problems are just a way to distract myself from my own. I help other people because I can’t do anything to help myself. That’s not being a good person, that’s just running from my own problems. I just try to please people, Lukas. To make other people happy is how I attempt to control them. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at. Because God knows, I’ve never been able to find happiness for myself.”
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