Chapter 22 Sarah
SARAH
Getting to the gallery first thing on Saturday morning was the right move.
But it didn’t exactly mean that we had a perfectly private “shoot” like I thought we might.
In fact, the opposite happened. As I stood with my paintings, as I let Delilah shoot photos and had Talia and Bridget suggest different options, the guests who came through recognized me and said they loved my work.
Some wanted to do photos with me. Some asked for a link to my website or at least my social media links.
One even purchased one of my works on my website!
In a sense, it was amazing. It was proof that what Cassius had done to help me was coming to fruition, and even with the ugly split—just two days ago, though it seemed both much longer ago and much more recent—my career might still be fine.
True, I might have hit peak elevation, but I would still do just fine cruising a little lower than now.
But in another sense, it served as a cruel reminder of how I actually felt inside.
Every smile I gave to a fan contrasted that strongly with the stress of being in Las Vegas even just one more minute gave me.
Every photo I took with a fan by my side reminded me of photos I took with Cassius by my side, something that both burned me up and left me yearning for what had been.
Every pose I took with my artwork brought me back to a different gala with Cassius.
I might have broken up with him and told him to never fucking see me again, to never let me come anywhere near the Black Reapers, but I could not so easily disassociate my memories from him.
Thank God he hadn’t shown up. In fact, after only twenty minutes, the girls said they’d gotten plenty, and Delilah swore on her journalistic career that the photos were of high enough quality. The brief time window ensured that I’d get to leave Allure without saying a word to Cassius.
And, strangely enough, that felt disappointing.
It felt incomplete to leave the art venue that had catapulted my career without acknowledging in person the man who had done that for me.
I might have hated Cassius the man—no, I didn’t hate him, I just…
I didn’t know—but I certainly had nothing but gratitude for Cassius the art patron.
As we left the casino, I was also left with the feeling that I was exiting without acknowledging Cassius’ world at all. That’s what had happened years ago, when Virgil’s death and everything with the Reapers prompted me to exit without so much as visiting Virgil’s grave.
But now…
Things were still getting hairy. The Reapers might appear at any moment. I had the ugly feeling that there was another shoe to drop, and while I may not have been oblivious to the risks of that, I was oblivious to where said shoe might drop.
But I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Call it a selfish desire for peace in my soul, call it crazy talk, call it a fair assessment of what I needed to do to make sure I never moved back here. I had to visit Virgil.
“Will we see you again before you go back?” Talia said in the parking lot of Ruby.
I shook my head no. After I saw Virgil, I’d get all my stuff and make my way back to Phoenix. That would be that. I wasn’t going to say I would never return to Las Vegas, but I wouldn’t be living here.
“I’ll come up for some Christmas shows, probably,” I offered, but even that was a weak offer. I didn’t have anything specific in mind, just a nebulous hope that I could do something. “Maybe we can do a Christmas gathering of some kind.”
“That would be nice,” Bridget said.
I shared hugs with them, none of them quite tearful—Phoenix and Las Vegas were hours by car, not a full day of flights, away—but all of them wondering what could have been. Only Delilah seemed to hang back just a bit, as if she was still waiting to give the full farewell.
But all the same, we went our separate ways.
I headed to my car, plopped down in the driver’s seat, and drew in an enormous sigh.
I knew, even having not been to Vegas in years and having never visited my next particular destination, where to go.
There was a cemetery not very far from the airport, not very far from the Strip itself.
It was expansive, but the nature of Vegas’ flatness meant it was easy to overlook.
Yet if you lived here and had a loved one buried there, odds were good you passed it by close to daily and would remember.
And so would I before I went home.
It was quiet in the cemetery; there were no ongoing services, no visitors within earshot, and not even cars could be heard in the far distance.
Strain my ears hard enough, and I might be able to hear the sound of planes in the air or cars screeching to stop for a red light, but by and large, whoever had built this place—about a half-dozen blocks southeast of Reid International Airport—had done well in making it quiet and peaceful despite its near-urban situation.
I knew well enough that Cassius and the rest of the Vale family would not have buried Virgil amongst all the other people.
While it was true there was no such thing as a truly private grave here, there were spots more recluse and more spaced out than others, and I made my way to the far back.
Sure enough, as I moved along the tombstones, I found the plot in the back that was more spacious, with perhaps a half-dozen feet between each grave.
I arrived there and almost immediately spotted Virgil’s grave, so fast it almost seemed like it was divine to happen.
Suddenly, everything came roaring back. How cheerful of a boy Virgil had been; how kind and open he had been, a bit of a contrast to his older brothers.
He was not even through high school when the drunk driver had taken his life, but even in the short time he’d been here, he’d left quite the impression on me.
I understood well it was that reason that I had avoided coming here for so long.
It was easy—relatively—to visit the grave of someone who had had a minimal impact on you.
You’d be respectful and wish them well in the afterlife, but by the time dinner rolled around, things would be normal.
But visiting the grave of someone you cared about, of someone whose mere presence lifted you up…
Tears formed in my eyes. I kneeled and placed one hand on Virgil’s grave.
“I’m sorry, Virgil,” I said between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I’m so…”
I trailed off. Words would not bring him back. Nothing could bring him back.
I had to accept that, but it was so much easier said than done.
Acceptance was often done with the belief that it might accidentally bring about the outcome you truly desired.
But the outcome I truly desired—to have Virgil still alive, for Cassius and I to coexist in peace, if not something more—would not happen.
“I hope your family makes good decisions, Virgil,” I said quietly. “I am sorry I put you… in the spot where everything happened. I’m sorry.”
I suddenly felt stupid for having come here. Had I done so for selfish reasons, or to actually pay my respects to Virgil? I needed to leave. I didn’t belong here. No, calm down. You cared for him. You can feel both.
I drew in a deep breath. Yes, I could feel both.
But it was also true that it was time for me to go.
Perhaps the gratitude for having visited Virgil and paid my respects would settle in later.
I didn’t know. But I did know that staying here would go past the point of making peace with the past and turn into deliberately immersing myself in guilt and anguish.
I stood.
“I’m sorry,” I said one more time.
I turned.
Cassius stood, his hands folded at his hips, quietly watching. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. Was I… imagining this? I couldn’t possibly be, could I? But for how fucked my head was right now, was it really so unfathomable?
“Cassius,” I finally said, but the word came out a whisper, barely audible to myself, certainly not to him. I opened my mouth again, clearing my throat, trying to find something to say…
But nothing came. Not here. We might have shared much, much more than maybe even his brothers shared, but whatever he had for Virgil and whatever I had for Virgil were for his little brother’s ears only.
The sole question that stuck in my mind was wondering just how long Cassius had seen me there, crying and sobbing.
Had he seen me from the moment that I walked into the graveyard?
Had he only shown up seconds before, a coincidental timing that made it look like he’d been there much longer?
Did it even matter? It wasn’t like I’d never cried in front of him.
There was just something shockingly raw and vulnerable about the moment, something I hadn’t expected after the prior forty-eight hours.
All the same, I walked by him, careful not to look up at him as I did.
It was impossible to leave and not come within inches of Cassius Vale, and the whole time, I half-expected him to put his hand in front of me or to grab my shoulder, commanding me to wait.
I anticipated that power move on his part.
But even when I was directly by his side, even when he could have stopped me dead in my tracks, he did nothing. He let me go.
That was as unexpected as anything, to not have gotten anything at all. But to me, it truly signaled everything I needed to know.
Cassius had let me go. I had forced myself away from him forty-eight hours ago. Both of us were living with that reality, and both of us seemed to believe that was permanent.
It was strange to say that by the time I got back to my car, I was feeling just as sad about the loss of Cassius as I was about anything else in the last thirty minutes.