by A. Zavarelli
He had left it behind and passed it onto me.
THE WEIGHT OF THE BED stirred me from sleep, and I felt his presence beside me. I listened to the sound of his breathing, and the horrible emptiness in my chest seeped away into the blackness as I extended my arm to touch him. “Lucian.”
“It’s me,” Birdie whispered.
My fingers fell away, and my limbs were so heavy I couldn’t move them at all as I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to stop the fresh onslaught of tears. “I thought it was a nightmare.”
And it was. It was a nightmare that would never end.
Birdie held me while I cried because she wanted to help. But I wanted to protect this sacred space where we had slept together. I vowed I would never wash these sheets. I would never lose his scent.
“I’m fine,” I told her. “I just want to be alone.”
“I’m sorry,” Birdie cried. “I don’t know how to help you.”
“You being here helps,” I lied. “But just… not on the bed.”
She understood then, and from that point forward, she and Ace slept on the bedroom floor beside me. Father Hawk was in the living room, and at some point, Luna showed up too. They all kept watch over me, hovering every second like I was liable to take a steak knife to my wrist at any moment. They could have been right, if it weren’t for the baby growing inside me. I clutched at my stomach, silently comforting the only part of Lucian I had left.
Over the course of three days, I hadn’t eaten or slept much. Most of my time had been spent holed up in Lucian’s bed, wrapping myself in his tee shirt and praying to a God that I didn’t know, begging him to give my husband back if I just believed.
Between those stretches, bouts of paranoia would set in as I patrolled the house and screamed at the guests not to touch anything. Birdie had tried to do dishes, and I snarled at her when she touched the cereal bowl Lucian last ate from. It still had milk in it, and I couldn’t bring myself to let it go. I couldn’t bring myself to let anything go.
I declared that nothing in the house was to be touched, cleaned, or thrown away, and everyone tiptoed around me as if I might attack at any moment. I didn’t know who I had become. I couldn’t recognize my face anymore or even feel my own body. I was numb. Heartbroken. And it didn’t matter if I was still alive because inside, I was dead.
“We should get some flowers,” I said numbly.
“Lucian said he didn’t need them,” Ace answered. “He already had everything set up.”
I stared out the window, battling my silent resentment and appreciation for the man I loved. He had planned everything, just as Ace said. I wanted to hate him for taking those decisions away from me, but I also knew I never would have been able to make them all.
“Just pull over and let her get some flowers,” Birdie whispered. “It’s what she wants.”
It wasn’t what I wanted. What I wanted was my husband back. I wanted our life back. The one that we would never get to have. I was lost without him, and I still couldn’t believe that today he’d be laid to rest.
Ace pulled over, and Birdie and I picked out the flowers. Blue, like the tattoo Lucian had on his chest. The one he said would keep me with him always. I never even got a picture of it.
As we drove to the cemetery, my fingers traced over the necklace Lucian had given me for my birthday. I’d looked up the scripture that had been engraved on it this morning.
I will be with you when you pass through the waters, and when you pass through the rivers, they will not overwhelm you. You will not be scorched when you walk through the fire, and the flame will not burn you.
The day he’d given it to me, I thought it meant he wanted me to believe. He wanted me to have faith that God was always with me. But now I knew that he really meant it was him. Lucian would always be with me. Or at least, that was what he wanted me to think.
We pulled into the parking lot, and I adjusted my dress as I got out. Birdie fussed over my hat and wiped the mascara that had leaked from the corner of my eyes as others joined us from their own cars. I invited everyone we knew, which wasn’t a long list, but I didn’t want Lucian to be buried alone.
Together, Father Hawk, Ace, Nolan, Kate, Birdie, and Luna walked beside me to the plot where my husband would be sealed away from me. It was still early, but I instructed Father Hawk to go ahead regardless. Everyone who loved Lucian was already there, or so I believed.
Halfway through his service, I looked up to find that several others had shown up. I didn’t recognize them, but I knew without asking that they were his clients. The men were rough around the edges. The kind that, at first glance, society wouldn’t think twice about labeling a criminal. And over the next twenty minutes, they multiplied. They came in droves until there were no longer enough chairs, and standing was the only option. I looked out over the sea of faces from my place beside the plot, and I wondered who they all were. How Lucian had helped them. I had an urge to hear their stories, and when Father Hawk finished, I told him to give them the chance.
Some paid their respects silently, but others stood to speak. The speeches were short and choppy, but each man gave an emotional display of gratitude to the only man who’d ever believed in them. My eyes watered more than once as I listened to their stories, and my shoes wobbled when it was finally my turn.
I’d spent the entire day prior writing notes about Lucian. I wrote about how beautiful he was. How smart, and generous, and secretly kind he’d been in his life. I wrote about his trials and strength, and the lessons he had taught me. All of these things were true, but when I stood to read them, another tidal wave of anger came over me that I had to say them at all.
Halfway through my first sentence, I stopped, coughing out a deranged laugh as everybody stared at me. “Would you look at us?” I gestured to the guests. “Who would have thought that this man could bring us all together? A bunch of so-called criminals, a biker, a priest, and a con artist. These are the people who Lucian called friends.”
Birdie stood and grabbed my arm, trying to whisper in my ear, but I wasn’t finished. “And the biggest shame is that we are the only ones who loved him. The world will never know how much good he did. The world doesn’t give a fuck.”
Father Hawk joined my other side then, but he didn’t try to stop me from speaking.
“You know who gives a fuck?” I asked, gesturing wildly around me. “All of us. We’re it. How fair is that?”
Nobody answered my rhetorical question, and since I was already a wrecking ball, I went on. “Fuck the media,” I said. “Fuck anyone who’s ever said a bad word about this man. Fuck them all.”
A burly man in the back with a long gray beard and a biker vest started a slow clap, and soon, the others joined him. It made me feel good. But then I remembered the reason I was here, and my passion swiftly returned to despair.
“He deserved so much more than what he got.” I bowed my head. “It really wasn’t fair. He probably deserved better than the likes of me too.”
My eyes drifted to the small wooden box that held the remains of my husband, and my chest hurt. “But he picked me. And he made me love him. I loved him fiercely.” I sniffled and wiped at my eyes. “I never got to tell him that.”
Everything went silent for a while after that. Nobody knew what to do while I stood there, motionless and wrung out, but I wasn’t finished. The aftermath was only just beginning, and I couldn’t navigate the maze of emotions left in front of me.
“How could he leave me?” I whispered.
Nobody answered. There were a few uncomfortable sounds of throats clearing before I answered myself.
“How dare he give up?” I said. “How dare he leave without saying goodbye to any of us? It’s bullshit. This whole thing is bullshit. And it’s so fucking selfish of him to do this to us, am I right?”
There was no clapping this time, but I didn’t care. I was done with this crowd too. “And do you know what else? He doesn’t get to dictate everything anymore. He doesn’t get to g
ive his orders from beyond the grave. So I’m taking this with me.”
I stalked forward and grabbed the wooden box off the table and clutched it against my chest, staring out at the crowd. “I dare you to stop me.”
Nobody did.
THE GUARD POINTED AT THE empty seat at the table, and I sat down across from her.
Two weeks outside of Lucian’s passing, I still wore the burden of grief on my face. But my dress was designer, and the heels were too, and I’d never made an effort to look any better than I had that day.
The visit wasn’t a surprise. I had to file an application in advance, and she had to agree to it. That was how it came to pass that I was sitting across from the empty void in prison orange. She was a plain-featured woman with limp, stringy brown hair that had begun to gray at the roots. Her face was without makeup, but even if it were, I doubted it would have improved her appearance.
She was no threat to me, and I wanted to make that clear when I sat up straighter, acting the part of a lady even though I felt anything but. The truth was, at that moment, I wanted to murder her. I had visions of grabbing that stringy brown hair and smashing her head into the table over and over. For a second, I thought it might make me feel better, but the reality was that nothing could. I’d had two weeks to come to terms with that unwavering fact.
“I wondered if I would ever meet you,” Nessie said. Her words were deliberate. A play that let me know she was aware of me before I ever gave her a second thought. She picked at her nail, and her lips twisted into a wistful smile. “My mom still keeps tabs on Lucian. Well, I mean she did, anyway. She used to send them to me whenever there was a new article.”
I forced my fingers around the bench beneath me to keep from wrapping my hands around her throat. I’d given a lot of thought to what I would say when I came here. Initially, I’d set out with the intention of laying into her. I would tell her what a piece of shit excuse for a human she was, and I would express how much I wished she were dead instead of him. But in doing that, I’d be giving her exactly what she wanted. She was still infatuated with Lucian, and my hatred for her would only stoke that flame because it would prove she was something I should care about one way or the other.
I didn’t come here to play her games. I came to play mine.
“Well, here I am.” I flashed her an exaggerated smile. “In the flesh. Was I everything you imagined I would be?”
Her eyes carved a path over my face, my clothes, my body language. She took it all in, and she didn’t like what she saw, but she would never admit it. “Lucian’s always had a thing for brunettes.” She curled a lock of hair around her finger. “Since me.”
I made a gesture to my own hair, intentionally flashing my wedding ring so that she would see. “He loved my hair. Especially the curls. Whenever I wore it curly, it drove him crazy.”
The smile on her lips faltered. Her hair was stick straight.
“I bet you were curious about me too.” She leaned forward. “The first woman in his life. That must be why you came here.”
My shoulder lifted in a dainty shrug. “Lucian never really spoke of you, to be frank. But I guess I was a little curious.”
I laughed, but Nessie didn’t.
My smile ebbed away, and I folded my hands together in my lap. “The truth is, ever since he told me about Dawson, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. I think about him often. About how I could have been a good mother to him, if I’d had the chance.”
“I was his mother,” Nessie snarled. “Not you.”
“Yes, that’s true,” I agreed. “Unfortunately.”
She was quiet, but her hospitality was wearing thin. I could tell she wanted to direct the conversation back to Lucian. She wanted to make me feel insecure in the time we had together. In the life we were only just beginning to build. But I wanted her to know that she never could.
“Things will be different with this baby.” I placed a hand over my stomach. “He will only ever know love.”
Nessie stared at my stomach, her eyes ablaze with rage and disbelief.
“I was thinking I’d name him after his father,” I added. “And his brother, for the middle name.”
“You can’t do that,” she spat.
I offered her a pacifying smile. “It’s what Lucian would have wanted.”
Her eyes cut into me, and she lowered her voice to a growl when she spoke. “You have no idea what he wanted.”
“I do actually.” I gestured to the guard, alerting them I was ready to leave. “It was me. It was always me.”
“I GUESS YOU’RE PROBABLY WONDERING what I’m doing here,” Nolan said.
I wasn’t actually. Considering it was past noon and I was still in my pajamas and half-strung out from the lack of sleep, I didn’t really care what his reason was for being there. But out of politeness and respect for Lucian’s friend and mentor, I sat down across from him on the sofa and waited to hear him out.
Nolan crossed his legs and leaned back. “Lucian asked me to handle his affairs, after the fact.”
“Right,” I murmured.
That made sense. But again, I didn’t really care. Everything that Lucian had to give to me, he gave when he was alive. The rest were just details.
“He wanted to make sure you were provided for,” Nolan began. “So the bulk of his estate will belong to you with the exception of a few donations to some charities that he promised to contribute to.”
I noticed that Nolan didn’t have a will to read from. There was no briefcase. No tablet. And it upset me because I wanted to see Lucian’s words for myself.
“Shouldn’t there be paperwork?” I asked.
“It really wasn’t necessary,” Nolan answered. “Your name was on everything anyway. The details are just a formality he wanted you to know.”
My disappointment was evident. I wanted there to be something else. Something I could see for myself. I wanted every little piece of Lucian I could get. “When did he talk to you about this?”
Nolan cleared his throat. “As soon as the marriage was legal.”
A burning ache spread through my chest and up my throat. Without intending to, Nolan triggered a memory of that day. The day we were married, I hated Lucian West more than anything and swore I would screw him over at the first available opportunity. I’d read his contract, taking particular notice of the clause that stated if he died before the two years were up, I would be free.
I spitefully told him I wished that were the case. And now, the nastiness of that statement made me shrivel up inside. Even after every poisonous word I’d stabbed him with, Lucian wanted to provide a life for me. He wanted to believe I was still good. A sob broke free as I wrapped my arms around myself. Nolan looked distraught, but he didn’t seem to know what to do.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know how difficult this must be for you.”
“I was just thinking that I don’t deserve any of this,” I answered tearfully. “I never deserved him.”
He smiled then, and it was full of sorrow. “Lucian thought the world of you.”
“If that were true, then he’d still be here.”
Nolan didn’t argue but decided the best course of action was to redirect the conversation back to Lucian’s final wishes. “The house is yours,” he said. “The money in the checking account and both of his cars as well. He asked that you donate whatever personal belongings you don’t want to a charitable cause.”
“I’m not donating anything of his.”
“That’s fine,” Nolan conceded. “Whatever you wish.”
My teeth clenched as I considered it. “I wouldn’t just throw his stuff away. What kind of person does that?”
“You have to remember he set this up when the marriage was still new.” Nolan held his palms up as if to say it wasn’t his fault. “It would only make sense that he might draw that conclusion.”
I didn’t answer because I was too ashamed to admit that he probably drew a lot of other conclusions after al
l the deplorable behavior that he witnessed from me.
“There is also the option to transfer ownership of the house and vehicles to the wrongful conviction foundation he established,” Nolan said carefully. “If that’s something you think you’d like to do.”
I curled into the sofa, recalling how many nights I’d waited up for Lucian here. How I would watch him come through the front door, and all his tension would melt away as soon as he was near me.
This house was full of memories, everywhere I looked. Memories that I didn’t even know we were making at the time. Now they haunted me. They made me smile, and they made me cry. It hurt so much, but I knew I could never let this house, or anything inside it, go.
My eyes met Nolan’s, empty and lost. “I’m never going to get over him.”
With grief as my constant companion and little interest in anything else, I had begun to dig up every aspect of Lucian’s life that I could find, savoring those little details like they were the only thing that mattered. I guess now, in a way, they were.
My life had drifted from a routine that felt linear and logical into something I didn’t know how to pilot. I was no longer on the course Lucian set for me. Now, I was left to set my own course, and I didn’t know what to do with myself.
Kate offered several times to help me apply to colleges or seek apprenticeships or just talk about what direction my life should go over coffee. She thought it would be helpful for my grief if I had something else to occupy my mind, but the truth was, nothing could draw my attention away from the life of Lucian West.
Day and night, I scoured through the history of his cases. At least, whatever I could access publicly. I’d read all the transcripts and got lost in the news articles detailing both sides. There were times when I found myself attempting to be a keyboard warrior, defending him online to all the trolls who called him names and didn’t know a thing about him. But that became as fruitless as it sounded, and in the end, I realized I needed to do something bigger. I wanted the world to know who Lucian was, and it set into motion the only thing I’d ever done that had given me purpose.