Page 8 of Hold You Close
“They’re getting on a plane.”
The five of us huddle together and soothe each other, as we all realize our lives will never be the same again.
Two
Ian
Today, we buried two empty caskets in the Las Vegas desert. It’s been two weeks and no survivors have been found. Neither my brother-in-law’s nor my sister’s body has been recovered. But my parents thought it would be best to give the kids some sense of closure and have the services.
Whatever that means.
How do you close a door to your parents?
“Uncle Ian?” Christopher calls for my attention.
“How are you holding up, man?”
At fifteen, I wouldn’t have been able to act the way he has. He’s been a pillar of strength for his sisters.
For the first time, I see a crack in his armor. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits. “I don’t know how to go back to the house today. They’re really not coming back.”
The first night, we all stayed at London’s. No one slept, and all of us were lost in a sea of grief. When Mom and Dad got here, they took the kids back to their own house so they could sleep in their beds.
“One day at a time, Chris. That’s all any of us can do, but I’m always here, you know that.” I tell him.
He nods. “I keep waiting for Dad to walk in the door. But now . . .”
I know the feeling. Each day, Sabrina would text me, telling me something I needed to do better with my time or telling me to stop torturing London with the backyard parties. I keep checking my phone, looking for her sarcastic yet loving messages. Logically, I know they won’t arrive, but emotionally, I can’t stop myself from hoping.
“I hope you know how much they loved you,” I tell him.
Christopher looks at me and a tear falls. “I know, it’s why this hurts so bad.”
“You’re going to get through this,” I say to both him and myself.
I miss my sister.
Sabrina was the best person I knew. She picked my sorry ass up when Jolene fucked with my head. Even David, who I fucking hated for knocking up my sister in college, became a brother to me.
He did right by her, took care of her, provided a life for her and their kids. I admired him, and I don’t know that I ever told him that.
Now I never will.
So many goddamn regrets.
“Do you think we’ll have to move to Florida?” Christopher asks.
My mother tried to bring that up last night, but I wasn’t in the right mindset to discuss it. Talking about all of it was too much. The idea of not seeing the kids anymore after losing Sabrina is a road I can’t go down.
I don’t claim to be the world’s best uncle, but I love those three. I’m the one who buys them the cool thing their parents won’t let them have. When I show up on Christmas, it’s clear who Santa Claus really is—me. I’m their godfather, all three of them are mine in some way. I spoil the shit out of them, teach them things they should know, and love them with my whole heart.
I’m well aware of what people think about me. I’m divorced, drive a sports car, own a nightclub, and get laid whenever I want, but that doesn’t mean things don’t bother me. I’ll never have kids, so they’re it for me.
“I really don’t know what’s going to happen.” I give it to him straight.
Right then my mother walks over. “We’re all going to follow the lawyer back to his office.” She touches Chris’s arm. “All of us, Ian.”
“I have to get back to the club.”
