All of It (32 page)

It’s not until we exit the elevator on a floor near the top and walk down the hall that the light bulb goes off. “We changed rooms, didn’t we? Since this is our last night?”

We arrive at the end of the hall, and he slips his key card into the slot to the side of the door. He looks at me and nods, smiling. The room opens up in front of me. It’s huge, just like the last, but I don’t see any of it because the curtains are drawn on the far wall and only a faint light pours in. But through the curtains I can see the Eiffel Tower directly across the street. I walk to the wall of windows and ignore my fear of heights pressing my hands to the glass as if I can reach out across the space and touch it.

I turn back to Dimitri and smile. He’s standing across the room watching me, letting me enjoy the moment. “We can push the sofa over in front of the window and sleep on it.” He winks. “That way you won’t miss a moment of it.”

I pinch my eyebrows together and walk toward him. He closes the gap. “I think sofas just might be overrated,” I say, looking at the floor before turning my eyes back up to him. “The view from the bed would be spectacular.”

His arms wrap around me and caress my exposed back. “Spectacular,” he murmurs. His finger traces the line of my spine from the nape of my neck down to the small of my back, where it’s halted by the zipper of my dress. His hand disappears over the fabric and grasps the zipper. It slides down slowly and my breath catches. His sensuous touch sets my skin aflame. He leans in to kiss on the top of my shoulder, and then hollow of my neck, and then under my chin as I lift my head.

Just as our lips are about to meet, his phone rings. It’s demanding, competing for attention. The ring dies away only to start up again, and again.

“It’s Sebastian’s ring tone,” Dimitri says.

“Maybe you should answer it,” I say, forcing the words. I don’t want this to stop.

“No,” he groans softly capturing my ear lobe between his teeth.

The phone rings again.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Sebastian obviously isn’t going to give up. “Please answer it.”

He sighs and the tug of his lips releases my ear lobe. With one hand still under my dress fondling the top edge of my panties, he answers in a harsh voice. “What?”

As he listens, his face softens. Suddenly his eyebrows begin to lift, and his lips part slightly. He says nothing.

His hand slips free of my dress and he looks at me. As desire drains away, something else pours in. This is a one sided conversation. He’s only listening, though a range of emotions are chasing each other across his face. Shock and dismay have replaced the hungry look in his eyes. I hear Sebastian’s voice die out on the other end. Dimitri exhales roughly and says, “Eleven o’clock tomorrow? Our flight arrives in Denver at ten-thirty. We’ll be there. Text me the address, will you?”

Sebastian talks some more. Dimitri ends the conversation as Sebastian quiets again, “Okay. Thanks man. Later.”

He slips his phone back in his pocket and studies me. He tilts his head and looks from one eye to the other and back again. Clearly he’s deciding how to say what needs to be said. This seems serious. It’s starting to scare me. He rubs his lips together and takes a deep breath before taking my shoulders firmly in his hands. I’m holding my breath, waiting. “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’m just going to say it. Teagan died.”

I exhale loudly, something between a cough and a sob. And then room begins to spin and static fills my ears. Dimitri’s lips are moving but I can’t hear him. My muscles betray me and I feel myself beginning to fall, but Dimitri’s arms hold me upright, clutching me tightly to his chest.

I cry.

I sob.

Eventually I sniffle.

I don’t know how we made it there, but when my eyes finally clear, we’re sitting on the sofa. I’m on Dimitri’s lap, cradled like a small child. I find my voice. “What happened?”

Dimitri strokes my cheek and looks outside at the Tower. “He committed suicide. Sebastian said he hung himself. It happened two nights ago.” He sounds one hundred years old.

I think about where I was two nights ago. On a sofa, contemplating the very same fate for myself. My own end … It makes me shudder. “Does anyone know why?” I ask.
I
should know why, I think to myself. I shouldn’t have to ask someone else why my best childhood friend felt the need to end it all.

I.

Should.

Know.

But I haven’t spoken to him in months.

“Sebastian said his girlfriend—the one at the graduation party last year, Andi—he said that she died last month. She had a rare heart disorder that nobody knew about. It had gone undetected all her life. One day she had a massive heart attack, and it took her instantly. I guess Teagan was with her when it happened.” Dimitri’s voice has grown thick and he stumbles over the last few words. “Sebastian said that she died in his arms.”

My eyes start to sting again, and I feel the tears scraping harshly against the backs of my half-closed eyelids. “I can’t believe it. I should’ve been there for him. I shouldn’t have let him slip away. I’m a horrible friend.”

He brushes a stray hair off my check. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, baby. You’ve had your own demons to fight this past year.”

I rub my eyes angrily with the backs of my hands. “I was selfish. Goddamn it! I was only worried about myself!” My voice softens. “And now he’s gone. And he’s never coming back. And I didn’t get to say goodbye … to tell him I loved him.”

Dimitri’s stroking my hair and it’s soothing in a way nothing else at this moment could be. I close my eyes. He kisses my shoulder and whispers, “He knew. He always knew. You were his best friend. That’s what best friends do, they love each other.”

I think about growing up with him. The trouble we got in together, the fun we had, the fights we had, and the secrets we shared. “I hope you’re right. I hope he knew.”

“So tell him now.” He raises his voice. “Teagan Marshall!” he shouts toward the window. “I know you’re listening! Veronica has something she wants to tell you!” He gestures to me with a sad smile. “There. I think I have his attention; the floor is yours.”

I huff out a humorless laugh, but when I look at Dimitri his eyes are serious and sincere. He whispers, “It’s okay. Say what you feel.”

I look up at the ceiling. I don’t know why. I guess I’m talking to heaven. “I love you, Teag.”

Life is sometimes … just a series of goodbyes.

I snuggle up with Dimitri in the bed and we both fall asleep shortly after our heads hit the pillows. Bad news has an uncanny way of bringing exhaustion with it.

The next morning is a crack of dawn rush to buy funeral appropriate clothes, dress, check out, and catch a cab to the airport. Thank God our flight is right on-time. At this point I’d probably commandeer a plane and pilot it myself to get to Teagan’s funeral. We arrive in Denver five minutes early and run through the terminal to the parking garage. Although have exactly 25 minutes to drive the route that normally takes closer to 45 minutes, Dimitri’s driving the Porsche. I’m not too worried.

We pull into the church parking lot at eleven o’clock on the dot.

We take a seat in the last pew just as the priest is walking up to the pulpit. The church is about half full, but as I look around, I can see that everyone who mattered to Teagan is here.

The service is fairly non-descript and quite generic, lots of praying and singing dull hymns that Teagan would’ve hated. I suppose it’s the type delivered when the priest has no personal relationship with the deceased. It’s one-size fits all, insert name here, blah, blah, blah. It makes me sad. The last straw comes when the priest calls him Teagan James Marshall. His name is Teagan
Michael
Marshall for Christ’s sake. (No offense, I know I’m in a holy place). Moments after this faux pas the priest asks if anyone has anything they would like to say before the final prayer.

I clear my throat, unsure how I’m going to get through this, and I squeeze the life out of Dimitri’s hand. He squeezes back and I know this gesture is meant to give me strength and urge me on.

I clear my throat again as I stand. “His name is Teagan Michael, not Teagan James. He was the brother I never had. Well, I guess technically we were blood brothers. At least that’s what he called it. One summer day when we were ten years old, he cut our palms with a pocket knife we found at the park, and we sealed it with a handshake.” I hear a lone, low laugh and look up to see Tate smiling at me from a few pews away. Tate was at the park that day with us, but he was smart enough not to agree to cutting himself with a dirty, discarded knife. His cheeks are wet with tears. “Teagan never thought of me as a girl back then, so of course we had to be blood
brothers
.” My voice starts to get croaky, but I forge on. “Teagan wasn’t perfect. He was crude, and rude, and … and boisterous. But, he was Teagan, which also meant that he was funny, protective, honest … even when I didn’t want to hear it.” I look at Tate again, who’s wearing a knowing smile. He’s remembering too. Remembering
our
Teagan. “Teagan was fiercely loyal and caring in a way only Teagan could be.” I take another deep breath before I finish the most un-eloquent eulogy in history. “I wish I wasn’t here right now. I wish this didn’t happen. But please know that I love you, Teag. I always will. You’ll always be in my heart. And tell my mom and dad I said hi.”

Dimitri squeezes my hand as I sit down. The look in his eyes says
well done
.

One by one people stand to say their own words. I hear my sentiment repeated over and over again. “I love you, Teagan.” “I love you, Teagan.” “I love you, Teagan.” Over and over.

The service wraps up when the church falls silent, which takes a while because Teagan is loved.

A lot
.

The crowd moves to their cars, and each vehicle proceeds slowly, single file, to the nearby cemetery. Once there, the priest says a prayer, reads a passage from the Bible, and asks Teagan’s family members to each place a rose on top of Teagan
Michael
(he remembered) Marshall’s casket before it’s lowered in the ground. His father weeps uncontrollably the entire time. I should probably offer my condolences, it would be the right thing to do, but I can’t get over the violence and pain he brought to Teagan’s life. Now he’s the one suffering. I hope he realizes what a beautiful child he brought to this world. As I watch him, I can only think of one word—redemption. I hope for his sake he finds it somewhere, anywhere, and that it’s enough to lead him to get help he needs.

Teagan’s aunt hands me a rose and nudges me forward toward the casket. Dimitri’s hand rests against my lower back reassuringly. Seeing the casket in the church was sad. Seeing it here makes it real.
So real
. He’s gone. I place my rose with the others, gently, like I might disturb Teagan if I move too fast. The gesture feels final, but comforting. Offering this tangible token is like being allowed to leave a piece of my heart with him. I like that. “Bye Teag.”

There’s a small gathering back at the church, but no one’s in the mood to socialize. Pain hangs heavy in the air and the crowd disperses quickly.

I’m exhausted as Dimitri drives to my house. My head rests heavy against the seat back and I close my eyes. Dimitri drives silently for what must be ten or fifteen minutes before he clears his throat and rouses me from a groggy fog.

“I’m sorry if you were sleeping, but I just wanted to tell you how proud I was of you today, Ronnie. What you said about Teagan was beautiful. And if he didn’t know how much you cared about him before, well … no one can deny it now.”

“Thanks. He was a really good guy.”

“He was. If I needed proof of that I could see it in how seriously he took his friendship with you. And for someone who looked for any excuse to kick my ass, I have to admit I even liked him.”

A tired chuckle escapes me. “He really did look for any opportunity, didn’t he? I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. He meant well, for you at least.” He smiles through tired eyes.

We pull up in front of my house shortly, and Dimitri walks me to the front door. I hesitate as I insert the key in the lock. I pull the key back out. “I think that maybe I need to use the back door today.”

He’s surprised, but understands and nods in agreement.

I open the door to the empty kitchen. For a moment I’d almost forgotten everything is gone. It seems like I’ve been away for a lifetime, not just a couple of days. A lot can happen in a couple days.

Dimitri holds up my bag. “I’m just going to put this in your room. Do you want to come?”

“Sure.”

I stop at the top of the stairs when I realize he isn’t following. “You coming?” I ask.

He walks toward me without a word and takes my hand, leading me away from the basement and down the hall to my parents’ room. The door is shut. “Close your eyes,” he says. “And please don’t be mad at me, Ronnie.”

I close my eyes and hear the door creak open. He nudges me forward over the threshold. He moves to stand behind me, and rests his hands ever so lightly on my shoulders, whispering in my ear. “Before you open your eyes, please know that I love you more than life itself. I’m nothing without you. Please allow me this.” He takes a deep breath. “Now, open your eyes.”

I take in my parents’ room. What was an empty room before is no longer empty. It’s filled with Dimitri’s bedroom furniture: the bed, the chair, and the painting of the phoenix. The walls have been painted and red drapes have been hung over the window. The room still smells slightly of fresh paint.

I’m at a loss. “It’s your room.”

He corrects me. “It’s
our
room.”

“
Our
room,” I say, mulling it over. “Our
room
.”

Acceptance begins to overtake my shock, and I nod. “Okay.”

He kisses the back of my head. “Thank you.” He tosses my bag on the bed. “If I’m correct, I think Sebastian, Sunny, and Bob moved a few more things in yesterday. Let’s take a look in the living room.”