33. “Black”
Chapter 33
“Black”
Taz - Age 24, 1994
I stand alone at the edge of a grave, staring at the weathered stone and empty vase where bright flowers should be.
The wind tugs at my hair, teasing it in all directions as I contemplate my grandmother’s final resting place.
This isn’t Gram’s site, but this is the place near where she will be buried come spring. She had meticulously planned every detail, leaving me with little to do except wait for Sascha’s parents to assist me when the time came.
The sky above is a dull gray, matching the somber mood of this solitary moment. Despite knowing that my grandmother’s death was inevitable due to her age and the onset of dementia, the stark reality of her absence on this Earth is crushing me with each passing moment.
She’s being laid to rest next to my grandfather, a man I never knew, who died much too young serving his country. She didn’t talk about him often, but it was full of love and admiration when she did. There’s a reason she never married after him.
I think about her legacy and everything she left behind. She longed with all her heart for my mother and father to find redemption and turn their lives around. She selflessly devoted her golden years to caring for me and Brian, only to have my dad regress into the rebellious teenager he never outgrew. His actions must’ve caused her endless heartache and disappointment, but she didn’t harp on it. She simply moved on and raised me into the man I am.
As I think about my future, an overwhelming sense of uncertainty and fear settles in my stomach. My grandmother’s face flashes through my mind, filled with hopes and expectations for a better life for me. I don’t want to disappoint her, and I don’t want to disappoint myself.
I have no family left to turn to; my heart aches, longing for the days when things were different. It’s been years since I last saw my father, and deep down, it’s for the best.
My brother’s perpetual run-ins with the law seem almost predetermined for him. He’s become a regular in the prison system, never able to keep his nose clean for long. I hate it for him. But I can’t help him until he helps himself. Throwing money at his problem will only make it worse.
I swivel my black-tipped shoe in the dirt, kicking rocks and scuffing the ground beneath me. The dust rises and coats my fancy, expensive shoes, making them appear rougher and genuine—more like the man I am.
I don’t know how long I stand there, but by the time I’m ready to leave, the afternoon has given way to the creeping shadows of impending nightfall. The air is cooler, and the sky has transformed into a tapestry of rich oranges and purples.
After my tears have run dry, I turn to trudge back toward the car. But then I see her, a vision standing before me with her hair reflecting the setting sun. She looks like an angel, but she’s not. She’s Sascha, and she’s always been real and always been here for me.
Her cheeks are streaked with tears, mirroring my own pain. Despite all the hurt we’ve caused each other, all the lies we’ve told ourselves and one another, she remains by my side because that’s who Sascha is. Her soul is pure and unwavering, even in the face of our struggles. It’s perhaps the most admirable quality I’ve ever seen in another human being.
As I approach her, she greets me with a gentle smile but remains silent. Her hand reaches out and intertwines with mine, our fingers lacing together as we stroll along the cemetery’s winding paths, surrounded by rows of somber grave markers.
Our footsteps echo off the pavement as we approach our cars, breaking the heavy silence that stands between us. “How did you know I would be here?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“My parents,” she responds with a sad smile. “My mom called and told me about what happened to Ida,” she says, her tone turning serious again. “I’m so sorry, Taz.”
I’m moved by her sincerity and touched by the lengths she went to to get here. “But what about the presentation—“
“It can wait,” she interrupts. “Jerry thought it would be a good idea for me to be here anyway.”
“You came home for me?”
“I came for both of you. I want to pay my respects to a woman that I admire.”
“She loved you,” I tell her, my voice soft and full of emotion. Memories flood my mind, and I can’t help but choke up a bit. “She said I should keep you close because you were good for me. She said if I had you, I’d always have family.”
“She was always so wise,” Sascha replies cheekily, bumping her shoulder into mine. ”How long will you be staying here?” she asks, changing the subject to something less emotional.
“I have to head back home tomorrow or the next day,” I say with a sigh.
“Me too. I was actually planning on visiting Ivy, but would you like to come over later?”
I turn my gaze toward the grave and back to Sascha. “Maybe,” I offer. I’m feeling mixed up inside, and I’m not sure what I’m doing from one minute to the next right now.
“Well, I will be at home if you need anything,” she says, silently praying I will take her up on her offer.
Sascha
It’s been hours since I saw Michael at the cemetery. Where could he be?
I’m sure he’s fine, but I really wish he had a pager so I could reach him. I can’t wait until the new cellular phones aren’t $2000. It’s going to make tracking people down so much easier.
As I sink into my bed, the exhaustion of the last few days and emotional turmoil envelop me like a heavy fog. My thoughts drift to Michael and the weight of his grandmother’s death.
I’m acutely aware of how fortunate I am to have my parents by my side. They may not share my DNA, but they have never made me feel anything less than their own flesh and blood. The thought of being without their unwavering love and support is unfathomable. Michael must feel so alone right now, and it’s breaking my heart in two.
As I lay on the crisp, cool pillow, drifting off into a peaceful slumber, the sound of creaking stairs jolts me awake. My heart races as I strain to listen for other sounds in the quiet night.
The footsteps approaching my bedroom are light and almost hesitant, unlike my parents’ voices, which have gotten louder as their hearing has gotten worse.
I stay still and silent as the doorknob turns and my bedroom door opens. A presence lingers behind me before slipping under the covers and sliding into bed beside me.
I feel his warmth radiating against my back, filling my senses with the familiar scent of his cologne. In just a few moments, he settled next to me and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close.
His nose rests against the back of my neck, just like it used to. It’s not a sexual gesture but rather one of comfort and friendship. In that moment, all the memories come flooding back and it feels really, really good.
This is what I can offer him right now. I can be here for him in a way no one else can. “Are you okay?” My voice breaks through the silence.
“I’m not sure,” he replies, his voice heavy with emotion. “I feel lost.”
I roll over to face him and wrap my arms around him, squeezing him more tightly into my body.
“Where were you tonight?” I inquire gently.
He takes a deep breath before answering. “I went to the nursing home and started going through her things.”
“I would’ve gone with you,” I reply, my voice tinged with regret.
“I wanted to do it myself,” he answers.
“Did you get through a lot?” I ask, knowing it must have been emotionally draining for him.
“I was able to grab some things that she wanted me to have. The rest they will put in boxes for me to go through later,” he says, his voice strained.
“I’m so sorry, Taz,” I murmur empathetically, wishing I could take away some of his pain.
“I knew it was coming. But it still hurts so bad.”
I bring his hand to my mouth and gently kiss his knuckles.
“But you’re not alone,” I remind him softly. “I’m here. My parents are here. You have people who love you.”
“Do you?” The vulnerability in his voice makes my heart wrench.
“Do I love you?”
“Yes.” His voice is barely a whisper.
My response is just as soft but filled with certainty. “Yes. I love you, Taz.”
The air around us holds its breath, waiting for his reply. It feels like an eternity before he finally speaks. “Everyone who loves me leaves.”
“That’s not always going to happen,” I insist gently.
“It’s the only way I’ve ever known life,” he responds, his voice laced with bitterness and resignation. “How can you be certain it won’t always be this way?”
I take a deep breath before responding, wanting to choose my words carefully. “You got dealt a shitty hand with your parents, Taz. I did, too. But I know from experience that there are other people in this world who can become your family. And it means nothing less because you don’t share blood.”
“Can you promise me that you’ll never leave? That you will always be there for me, no matter what?” he asks, desperate for my answer.
“I don’t know what the future holds, Taz. But I can promise you this—I’ll never turn my back on you. Not like before.”
The only sounds were the soft rustle of leaves in the wind outside and our breathing. I can hear his change to the softer, rhythmic breath of sleep.
As the warm embrace of sleep pulls me under, I cling to the hope that he heard my promise and believes it.
But when morning comes, he’s gone, leaving no trace of where he might have gone. Panic sets in as I frantically call Landry, and we spend nearly two days searching for him, our worry growing with each passing hour.
Finally, I find him back in Denver, on the ice—his sanctuary, his refuge. But he’s not here to play or practice but to escape. His shoulders are hunched, his jaw clenched in anger.
My heart races with fear as he goes robotically through his warm-ups. I will him to look at me, a silent plea to see me so I can bring him back from the dark place in his mind.
But he won’t, and my worst fears are realized within minutes. His body crashes against the unforgiving ice, and my heart shatters along with it.