“I am. I went away for a little while... I just needed to process everything.” I explained as we moved to take a seat on the couch. “Sometimes I find myself holding my phone, about to call her, and then I remember I can’t.” My throat tightened, and I took in a deep breath to avoid crying.
“I understand. I can’t say it will get easier or better with time. Eventually, you just learn to live with it. But you will heal, and you will be whole again. One thing is certain; grief changes you. You will never be the same, nor would you want to be.” My father sighed as he looked deep in thought.
I realized just how accurate it was. I didn’t feel the same at all, nor did I ever want to be as helpless as I had been. I was too weak, and it would forever weigh on my conscience. If only I had been a little stronger, maybe I could have saved her, but no.
She died to protect me.
“Sounds like you’ve had your share of grief as well?” I asked. He let out a chuckle, but not a humorous one. He rose from the couch and walked over to the bar to pour two drinks, handing me a glass of Scotch before resuming his seat.
“It’s a tough industry. It was difficult at first, but now people come and go, and you just get used to it.” My father said with a shrug and sipped his drink.
“I don’t like the sound of that.” I muttered.
“No one does, but it’s reality. It’s better to get used to it to protect yourself.” My father tapped his head.
I took a sip of my drink, feeling my heart twist at the thought of losing more people I cared about.
“You were never supposed to be a part of this world, figlia. You care too much.” He chuckled.
“I can’t help it.” I smiled.
“Because your mother did an excellent job of raising you.” His words filled me with pride as he gave me a small smile. “I meant to ask you something but didn’t, since you were in a completely different state. Did your mother tell you anything before she... passed?”
“Such as?” I asked.
“Perhaps anything useful that could help us investigate?”
“I don’t think so. I only remember bits and pieces from that night. I’m not too much of a help, unfortunately.” I said sadly.
“I see.”
“Why?” I asked when it felt like he didn’t believe me.
“I’m just trying to help, figlia. Your mother and I may have had our differences, but she’s still my ex-wife and the mother of my child.” His expression softened, making me feel guilty.
“Sorry. I wish I could be of more help.” I sighed in defeat, truly hating that I couldn’t be more useful to anyone.
“No, don’t worry about it. But if you do remember something, even something minor, let me know.”
“I will keep that in mind.” I gave a small smile as he nodded in approval.
“Good. Now tell me, how’s the wedding coming along?” He suddenly asked in joy.
Excited about the mention of Cara’s wedding, I told him everything that she had caught me up on, and he listened to every word, smiling now and then.
“That also reminds me, I don’t even have a dress for the wedding.” I said when I was done.
“You still have two weeks, plenty of time to find something.” My father gave a dismissive wave.
“That is not something you can say to a woman, papá.” He chuckled at my gasp.
“It’s just a dress. They all look the same anyway, just in different colors.”
“Such a man thing to say.” I shook my head in amusement. “How can you say that to someone who literally worked in a boutique as a gown designer?”
“All right, all right, my bad.” My father put his hands up in surrender.
“By the way, wasn’t that my necklace I found in your desk drawer? I was looking for some blank papers while waiting for you and found it there. I wasn’t trying to snoop around, I promise!” I quickly said when he frowned.