38. Luke
CHAPTER 38
Luke
When you’re a prepubescent kid with a family who just got slaughtered, other children tend to make fun of you. I don’t blame them. Everyone likes to gossip. I still remember what they said behind my back.
I bet Luke talks to the dead now.
I saw him creeping at the graveyard the other day.
My mama said he’ll become a pyromaniac due to the trauma.
The last one might be bullshit, but it turns out, they weren’t wrong. Here I am, having a goddamn food-less picnic at the graveyard where a quarter of the tombstones belong to my family, chatting with my mom as if she can talk back.
Before the fire, we weren’t rich. We were barely middle class, just right above the cutoff. But we were happy. At least I was.
It fucking sucks that Dad can’t see that I’m finally able to breathe again. Gigi makes me feel things that I haven’t in a long time. It fucking stings when he had the audacity to lecture me on keeping up appearances for the others when he walked around a drunk slob, leaving me to clean up his mess for him like a goddamn live-in maid. It fucking punched me in the gut when he said the truth I’ve been sugarcoating ever since spring, though.
Stepsister. She’s Andrew’s girl . Or was. Or is. Or whatever happens when the other person dies before you get a chance to break up with them.
Making my way back to the front gate, I make one last stop before I drive back to Kinsdale Springs. The sun is about to rise now, shining just enough to give me a glimpse of the carved letters.
ANDREW ETHAN PALMER
January 2005 - September 2023
Now may The Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times and in every way.
2 Thessalonians 3:16
“I guess you never did listen in Sunday school, did you?” I shake my head, feeling the back of my eyes sting. “Killing yourself is a sin, you idiot.” No answer. “What was so wrong with your life that you needed to off yourself, hm?” No answer. “You left me all alone.” I start chuckling, like some lunatic would at four in the morning at a gravesite, proving those middle schoolers right about me. “I miss your stupid ass. Your parents, too. Gigi, too.” Gigi. Gigi. Gigi. “I think that’s why she slept with me in the first place,” I say quietly. To Andrew or to myself, I’m not sure. “And I wish I was a better man to not do this and look for someone else, but I can’t now. You’re dead, so you don’t get a say in this. You fucking left us.” Still no fucking answer . “I’d pray for you, but I only ever came to church for the muffins, you know that.” And for you. To hang out with you. “Wherever you are, I hope you know that I love you, but I love her, too. I’m sorry.”
The sight of a woman with dark hair hovering over the kitchen counter greets me the moment I enter the house. Not Gigi, her mother. Bianca is still in her scrubs as she stirs a teaspoon of sugar into her tea.
“Your father is gone again,” she says, her tone eerily calm. She’s blowing her hot drink, but her eyes are on me. Watching me. Following my move from the door to the coffee machine. “He asked his colleague to switch schedules.” Good, let him be gone. I don’t want to see the sight of him, either. That hypocrite.
“Okay.”
“You know, Luke,” she sighs, “he told me about what happened and I want you to know that I don’t condone it. It might not be my place to say, but Vince was grieving too. In a very problematic way, yes, but grieving nonetheless.”
“You’re right,” I answer. The harshness of my voice matches the way I slam the coffee pot on the counter. “It’s not your place to say.”
“People deal with loss in different ways, Luke.” In her dark eyes, I see sympathy. For Dad or for me, no clue. Bianca takes a step closer to me and sets her mug next to mine. “But enough about your dad. I won’t even try to meddle. Like I said, it’s not my place, Luke. I just want you to know that I can understand both sides.” She lifts her hands up in the air, shooting me a small smile. “I’m not the enemy here.” As I sip my black coffee with my back perched against the counter, Bianca looks at me again. “But it is my place to ask what’s going on with you and Giuliana. Is this the way you two deal with your grief? By being together, you get to feel closer to Andrew?”
“I’m in love with your daughter, Bianca.”
“She told me she loved you, too.”
“Are you going to fight us on this?”
Would we even be on each other’s radar had our parents not gotten married? Most definitely not. Gigi would probably still be in New York, living life to the fullest and infecting people with her happy smile. I would probably go through life doing the opposite, just letting life pass by me. If Andrew didn’t die, would we even be here right now? The answer would also be a big fat no. The jury is out whether the two of them would still be a couple or not, but if they had broken up, Gigi would probably get snatched up by some other jock who’d probably propose to her on her graduation and whisk her away on a European summer trip as a present. And I’d be dating the likes of Autumn—girls who make me feel like I always come up short, exactly how my father makes me feel.
But for some fucked up reason, the universe decided to do its thing and change the course of our lives. Twice. God or whatever higher power out there mellowed Gigi down and gave me a chance to get to know her. Love her. Cheer her up. And for some reason I still can’t quite fathom myself, Gigi doesn’t make me feel like I need to be someone I’m not to make her happy. She has all the ammunition in the world to compare me to the one person I hate being compared to the most, and she hasn’t used it once.
Lord knows I’m far from perfect, but when she looks at me, I feel like I could be. I feel like I want to try, so I’m going to fight for her. Even if my battle is with her own mother.
“No, Luke. I’m not,” Bianca says calmly. Her chamomile tea must be working. “I’m not happy about this, but I’m going to let you both be. You’ve both been through a lot. I’m not going to lose my daughter because I can’t accept the fact that she’s dating you.”
I blink. “Thank you,” is all I manage to mumble.
“Besides, she could do a lot worse than you. She could’ve come home with a tattooed biker. Grieving people do weird things.” Never have I ever come out on top in a game of who-is-the-better-pick, but I’ll take this win.
“I’m not going to hurt her, Bianca,” I assure Gigi’s mom. “I’m serious about her.”
“Oh, I know.” Bianca’s tired eyes soften as she smiles. “I see it all over your face. I would’ve told you both to break it off if it wasn’t so apparent that you’d do anything for my daughter.”
I chuckle, thinking that I need to get Bianca a nicer Christmas present from now on.
“Just promise me something,” she says in a more serious tone.
“Shoot.” This woman could ask me to lick the floor clean right now and I’d get right to it.
“I’d say no sex before marriage, but I’m not stupid, so just promise me you’ll be careful? I’m not ready to be a grandmother.” Fair enough . “And if you end up with Gigi, you’re becoming a Catholic, Luke. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.”