30. Joy
JOY
I feed Hope, sensing his ghost behind me.
Four days later, I’m still buried in grief after finding out Valerian is gone.
I’m slowly starting to sink into the reality of what all this means, now the initial feelings of denial are over.
The weight in my chest triples. Hope will never meet her father, which is what I thought I wanted ten months ago when I walked away.
Ignorance is bliss. Avoiding love can sometimes be the better option when you know the love is temporary, slipping through your fingers more each day until you’re left with nothing.
I walked away from Valerian to avoid the paralyzing heartache I’m feeling today. It makes the hurt cut twice as deep. If I knew things would end the same way, I’d have stayed.
I’d have spent every night falling asleep in his arms, savoring the small moments as a family.
I fell asleep most nights pretending he was there beside me.
In an effort to control the situation and avoid being hurt, I missed out on all the good moments.
I smooth my hand over Hope’s head. We would have had a lot.
And now Hope will never know her father.
I finish feeding Hope and wander into the front room, where Lila is making coffee. She hands me a cup, her eyes searching mine, finding answers to how I’m feeling based on the expression I’m giving her.
We haven’t had a proper conversation since I found out. Mom and Lila are shoulders for me to cry on. They wrap their arms around me when they sense I need a hug, holding me in silence.
“Thanks,” I say, cradling the hot coffee in my hands and staring out of the window.
Blossom flies in the wind. The days are heating up, summer right around the corner. It’s almost been a year since we met, when I was breaking into Igor’s apartment, dropping the wrenches because of how flustered Valerian was making me.
I slide the newspaper onto my lap, turning to page four, reading the article on Valerian over and over again, like I don’t already have the text memorized.
“Valerian Sokolov was a big part of this city for many years, designing commercial real estate for tech companies, all the way to schools and hospitals for the community.”
“It’s with deep sadness that I announce his death today. Valerian has always been private about his personal life. We are told from his son, Igor Sokolov, that he has been battling with an illness over the past five months, which ended up taking his life.”
I stare at that last sentence, rereading the words. Unfortunately, this all checks out with Valerian being quieter over the past ten months.
But an illness?
That’s not the full truth. Karma caught up to Valerian in the end, just as I knew it would. Someone did something, tortured and killed him.
My stomach turns when I think about the real cause of his death.
It would have been anything but peaceful.
I continue reading the newspaper, skimming over some of Igor’s statement.
“The most courageous father a son could ask for. May he rest in peace.”
I ghost my fingertips over his words. It heals a part of me, knowing Valerian reconnected with his son.
I abandon the newspaper and dig under the couch for the remote.
“Are you sure you wanna do that?” winces Lila from behind me. “You’ve already seen the news story a dozen times.”
“Then I’ll see it a dozen more.”
I sink into the couch, turning on the TV and navigating to recorded episodes, scrolling through various news broadcasts until I’m coming across the one with Igor.
He stands on a podium in front of the audience wearing all black.
Weirdly, he’s the only dry-eyed person in sight as he looks the camera square in the eye and announces he’ll be picking up what his father left behind, following his footsteps to make sure the real estate business remains the best in the market.
“There’s no better person more fit for the job,” says one of the journalists.
Igor shakes the comment off. “It’s my duty, after all of the sacrifices my father has made over the years.”
I lean forward, staring at my ex’s face. “Something about this broadcast doesn’t sit right in my gut.”
Lila joins me on the couch, wrapping her arm around me. “I know. I get it.”
“No.” I shake her off. “I mean, Igor is hiding something.”
“What do you mean?”
“His face is… off. His father is dead and he’s not shredding any tears.”
“Everyone handles grief differently.”
That’s not it.
“If Igor wanted to kill his father, he’d have done it by now.”
“I know.”
“So, he was at his father’s side when Valerian fell ill and said goodbye before everyone else,” says Lila.
I’m still not convinced. I sit back into the couch, staring at Igor on the TV. “He always lies.”
Lila sighs, bringing me in tighter. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”
“Igor’s speech?” says Mom, entering the room. “You’re watching it again?”
“It’s her way of processing things.” Lila is still rubbing my back.
“But Igor has always been a liar.” I grab the TV remote, flicking back a few days to when they first officially announced Valerian’s death.
I press play, paying close attention to Igor in the background, hands clasped behind his back, chin down as the company’s CFO makes the announcement.
“Why isn’t he crying?”
“Like I said—”
“I need to speak to Igor,” I say, jumping off the couch.
“Sweetheart,” says Mom, catching me, “you gave birth only a month ago. You need to take it easy.”
“I’ll take it easy after I speak to Igor.”
Lila and Mom flash each other a look
“She needs clarity,” I hear Lila murmur to Mom as I rush into my bedroom, finding my phone.
I fell asleep holding onto it last night in bed, watching the clips, reading the articles; alternating between feeling everything and nothing, all in the same breath.
I throw the bedding aside and crash on the mattress, phone in hand, ready to text my psycho ex.
Except, I scroll through my notifications and see a message from him.
IGOR: I know this is very last minute, but will you come to his funeral today? I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. Valerian would want it to be small, close knit. He would want you and the baby to be there. I’m assuming you gave birth to them by now?
My heart falls into my stomach. I sit up in bed and reply to the message.
ME: Tell me the time and we’ll be there.
The perks of being a fashion designer are endless when it comes to transportation. I can buy the expensive Ubers and not feel like I’m breaking the bank anymore.
I’m wearing my own line, dressed in a black pencil skirt, heels and a blazer to match. I couldn’t decide what to do with my hair. After playing around with some hairstyles for a half hour, I decided to wear it natural—the way I know Valerian would have liked.
I turn from the window, reaching over to kiss Hope in her car seat. We’re reaching the mountains, the landscape changing as we make our way into the city.
Igor is holding the funeral at Valerian’s estate in Beverly Hills, where he now lives permanently.
I reach for the tissues in my pocket, dabbing my eyes.
I left home looking like I’d rolled straight out of bed, putting minimal effort into my appearance.
I brushed my teeth, splashed my face with cold water and dressed.
I couldn’t stand the thought of putting on makeup, making myself look pretty when I was already looking dreadful.
The mascara would have leaked down my face by now.
I feel the driver’s eyes on me in the rearview mirror, his gaze flicking between me and the road.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he eventually says.
I flash him a quick smile in the rearview mirror and return to crying.
He doesn’t know I’m attending Valerian Sokolov’s funeral. Nobody does. Igor didn’t want to make it a public thing. I can see why he chose a very lowkey funeral, to avoid the public making a fuss.
Grieving it ten times harder when you’re surrounded by noise, everyone offering their sympathy, telling you how much of an inspirational figure he was. It just reinstates the fact that he’s really gone.
Lots of different emotions pass through me as we drive through Beverly Hills. Palm trees sway in the spring breeze, sending me back to the time I rediscovered myself on the loungers, reading, taking a well-needed break from work.
My body still remembers the burning desire I felt for Valerian. It won’t ever go away, which only adds to the torture.
I glance at my sleeping daughter, mapping out her face.
I see Valerian in her chin and nose, and her eyes when she opens them.
They’re just as striking as her father’s.
She has the ability to stop time. I’m sure she’ll become a real heartbreaker when she’s older, following in some of her father’s footsteps. Not all of them.
My stomach churns when the vehicle turns onto his street. Valerian’s state lies at the end of it, a huge, gated property made entirely out of stone. The palm trees out front still sway in the breeze like nothing’s changed, but the stabbing pain in my heart reminds me everything has.
I have a daughter now. A life that I live completely on my own terms. And it’s all thanks to him.
The gates open and the car rolls down the graveled driveway, reaching a stop just short of the porch.
He holds the door open for me as I wobble out of the backseats, taking Hope from her carrier and holding her close to my chest.
The front door opens, Igor stepping out, wearing a suit and tie. He even made the effort to style his hair. Maybe too much effort. The mousse catches the sun making the top look greasy. But it’s the thought that counts.
“Joy,” he begins, walking down the steps to greet me. He turns and looks at Hope, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. “Who might this young princess be?”
“Hope.” I find Igor’s eyes. “Your sister.”
He studies my eyes. “It’s great to finally meet her.”
Perhaps Lila was right about Igor already having time to grieve. The whites of his eyes are the color they’re supposed to be, no blotched red like mine.
I have dark rings circling around each of my eyes. Honestly, I look more like a Halloween costume than I do a woman.
And Igor looks fine.