Page 38 of Dead Love
My stomach tightened, but I bit my lip, tucking the choppy hairs behind my ear. Retaliation and bargaining hadn’t worked, but maybe if I listened and tried to figure out whathewanted from me, then maybe I could help, and eventually, getmyselfout of this mess.
It wasn’t the best idea, but it was the only plan I could think of.
He led me to a bathroom and let me change. Just like the Lost and Found clothes, most of Catie’s clothes were dark. I put on some black leggings and an oversized gray hoodie. I glanced at the mirror; I hadn’t looked at myself since before Nyla’s funeral. I had changed, somehow. Tired. In comfortable clothes, not the pretty styles my mother selected. And yet, my skin was brighter. Glowing. More alive than before.
My mind must have been playing tricks on me to make me feel better.
Silently, Vincent motioned for me to follow him. As we emerged from his house, the night was peaceful. The insects hummed and the wind rustled through the trees. Our footsteps were soft on the ground, the frogs quieting as we passed. We walked down the path, the familiar fragrance of roses meeting my nose. I sucked in as hard as I could, enjoying the fresh air. The headstones hovered in the night, like hunched over souls, waiting for the darkness to pass.
He kept walking until we came to a statue of a woman with a crown of flowers twirled around her head, loose fabric covering her body, drapes of vines twisting around her like a whimsical fairy. The woman rested her head on a stone. The inscription read:Nyla Nerissa. Until we bloom again.
My heart sank at those words. Until we bloom again?
“What is this?” I said. I gripped my hands into fists. “Why would you bring me here?”
“Her ashes were buried yesterday,” he said.
My heart plummeted to the ground. I kneeled down in front of the stone, then heard motion coming from behind. Three rottweilers came up, black fur with playful brown faces, the ones I had seen the first night Vincent had brought me here. They bumped into me, greeting me with their wet noses. Vincent stepped away, grabbing a rake leaning against a tree, and started tending to the loose leaves. My heart raced. I rarely got to pet dogs at the flower shop, and never ones that were this big. But the dogs licked and nuzzled my face, and those fears melted away.
“Hi pups,” I said, though they were certainly bigger than that. “What are you doing here?”
Then it clicked. These weren’t strays that stuck around the cemetery because Catie and Vincent fed them. They werehispets.
One of them nudged into me, then sat perched at my side. I stroked her back. We both watched Vincent cleaning the property while the other two dogs followed behind him. I leaned over and pulled her tag out:Sarah.
“Hey, girl,” I said. “Sarah,” I corrected myself, and she panted happily beside me. “You sure are loyal, aren’t you?”
I turned and stared at the stone, reading the inscription repeatedly until the letters didn’t make sense anymore.Until we bloom again.It was like we were all locked inside of a dark winter.
But the seasons never stretched too far in Punica. It came with the climate. It was always temperate here, always steady, as if the earth wasn’t supposed to feel anything.
I wondered if Vincent was right. I had always thought my parents were protecting me out of fear for my safety, but what if the opposite was true? What if they were causing more damage by not letting me grow into my own person?
The other dogs joined us, sitting next to Sarah, all in a line. I checked their tags too:Bernie. Ulysses.From the shadows, Vincent emerged as well, standing near a tree where he rested the rake once again. He removed an item from his pocket: a ring. A gold band with a giant onyx stone.
Nyla’s ring.
“They left it on her. And when I asked them about it before the cremation, they said to keep it.”
“Why would they do that?”
He let out a small sigh. “I stopped trying to understand people when they’re grieving a long time ago. None of it can be explained. We just have to accept what it is.”
After a few seconds, he stepped closer and offered it to me. I stared up at him, waiting for an explanation. But perhaps there was none. Nyla’s parents had told him to keep the ring, and he had, like any other thing that was left behind. And now, it was mine.
He was trying to give me closure. A piece of Nyla to take with me.
I took the ring, clutching it in my palm.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, those words awkward on my tongue. He nodded, looking into the starlit sky. I had never seen anything as gorgeous or as peaceful in my life, sitting under the stars, waiting in the quiet solitude of the graves. There were no bars against the windows here, no cages to lock me inside, no bricks or divided windows. There was only the dark sky.
Vincent turned toward me. My chest tightened. He held out his hand. “Let me show you around,” he said.
I waited for a moment, staring at his hand. And then I took his grip.
CHAPTER14
Vincent
