15. Giselle
Giselle
“What did you say?”
I’m surprised I even form the words. I feel like the world is spinning me and I feel light-headed.
“Solnishko I—”
“Artem, please. Please tell me this is just something you’re saying to get a rise out of me.”
I finally open my eyes and look at his sincere face. He looks apologetic. I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“You deserve to know everything I know.”
I steady myself against the bar.
“What does that mean then?”
“Roman found paperwork in my father’s files with your mother’s autopsy. I guess he can’t say if it was legitimate but—”
“Artem please don’t over explain, just tell me what it said. Please.”
“She was shot. Multiple times. Standing outside of her car and was found lying next to it. She never made it to the car from the theater.”
I don’t know what happens after he says that but when I open my eyes again, he’s holding me as we sit on the ground.
“I’m sorry. Your father believed your uncle was involved, and it’s what led to him and Leo stepping away, supposedly. I don’t know anything else but that.”
This can’t be happening. Can’t be my life. I can’t be reliving my mother’s death. Is he right? I never saw her. My father said he saw her when he went to identify her body and didn’t want an open casket because the crash was so bad. Did he lie to me?
“I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter this time as he holds me against him as I sob. He’s keeping me tight in his lap like I’ll drift away.
“Is it true? My uncle?” I muster through my tears.
“I don’t know, but I swear to you I’ll find the answers.”
All I can do is nod against his shoulder.
7 years ago
When I walk onto the rooftop; I’m not surprised to see his silhouette. But this time he’s standing on the ledge as if we’re not up on a tall building.
“Just jump,” I tease as I walk forward, and he chuckles as he takes another drag of his cigarette.
But he doesn’t act the same as usual. He seems . . . sad.
I don’t know why we both stand there silently, but it isn’t awkward. I guess we have moments like this, sometimes. Moments where one of us just isn’t strong enough for our battle.
“What do you regret the most in your life?” He suddenly asks as he continues to walk the ledge as if he’s a tight rope walker. It makes me tense—but my answer is quick without hesitation.
“Not going with my mother the night she died.”
He seems to stop for a moment.
“Why would you want to go?”
“Because, maybe if I went, things would’ve been different. Butterfly effect, you know?” I say as I lean my arms against the ledge.
“Or you’d just be dead too.”
Maybe. But I let her die alone. Maybe she was scared. Maybe the car flipped and she cried out and no one heard her. Maybe if I was there I . . . could have changed something.
“She wanted to take me to a musical and I changed my mind. I guess someone gifted her tickets so we could go together.” He looks like he’s contemplating something, but still disinterested.
It’s so simple, but it hurts. I was young, and I just wanted to sulk alone in bed on my phone. She was sad, too. Disappointed. She went alone anyway, and that’s the last thing she felt when she saw me.
“Fine. What’s yours then?” I ask when he doesn’t speak.
“The same as yours. It should’ve been me, too.”
I’ve never seen him like that. Like maybe he’ll really fall off. Like he’s . . . human and feeling.
“Let’s jump then. Make the world balanced.” I try to joke dryly.
A smile almost curves on his lip when he finally jumps down from the ledge back onto the roof.
“Not yet, solnishko. I’m not done with your life yet.”
Present
When I wake up in the morning my eyes are sore. I don’t even know how to function, let alone sit up. I wasn’t ready for what Artem told me. I don’t even know how to form thoughts about it.
I slide out of the bed and go to splash some water on my face, sighing at my puffy eyes. I hate when people can tell that I’ve been crying.
I walk into the kitchen, desperate for water and I’m in such a daze I don’t even see Max enter before I turn, jumping with a gasp.
“Holy shit, I’m seriously going to put a bell on all of you,” I say as I open the water bottle.
“Artem told me that he told you,” he says as he leans back against a counter.
“Yeah, apparently I’m the last to know everything, once again.”
I can see that Max feels bad too, even though it has nothing to do with him.
“I thought you knew already, to be fair. I figured your whole family knew.”
I sigh as I set the bottle down. “I don’t know who knows. Or if it’s true. Or who the hell I could even ask and get an honest answer from because so far, my family seems to only keep shit from me and lie to me.”
Max sighs, looking up like he’s trying to brainstorm.
“It might be better if you don’t say anything. Well, that’s what Roman said anyways.”
“Yeah, everyone is always talking about Roman saying shit. Where the fuck is he then? Since he supposedly knows all this shit but he—” my sentence is cut short as a throat clears and I see Artem and Roman walk in.
“Maxim, didn’t I say not to poke your head in where it doesn’t fucking belong?” Artem says as he passes him, smacking the back of Max’s head.
I’m about to scold him for hitting Max when he was only being nice to me, but when he gets to me, he puts his hand on my head and looks in my eyes like he’s searching for something.
“You still haven’t eaten, you should try to get something down.”
I feel stuck for a moment looking into his gaze before I force my eyes away.
“I’m not really hungry,” I say softer than I was speaking before.
“Eat. Or I’ll make you,” he says demandingly, and I want to bite back, but his hand softly rubs my hair. Why is he doing this to me today? Couldn’t he be annoying Artem today?
I don’t even have the strength to roll my eyes as I turn to grab a piece of fruit from the counter, I don’t even think I can force anything else down with how I feel right now.
“Is that why you said that?” I ask Artem, and he turns and asks what I’m talking about.
“I don’t know . . . years ago. The day I told you to jump off the roof. I told you I regret not going with my mom the night she died, and you told me I’d have just died too. Did you know then?”
He thought for a moment before he shrugged and let out a breath. “I thought you knew too.”
I lean against the counter and Roman and Max give each other a look before they sense the tension and leave the kitchen.
“Well, I thought you were just being pessimistic,” I say a bit quieter than I meant to. “So what? If she was killed what does that mean? Was it planned?”
He shakes his head as he looks at me, “I’m not sure. Where was she?”
I feel myself pause as I remember that night. I was moody, and I can’t remember what stupid things occupied my teenager mind, but I refused to go with her and the look on her face . . . it’s ingrained into me forever as the last way I saw her.
“Hey,” Artem calls softly, suddenly in front of me, hand on my head again.
“She went to this play,” I end up finally choking out. “I . . . was supposed to go with her. Someone gifted her two tickets but I didn’t want to anymore at the last minute, so she left alone.”
He was quiet as he thought about it, but the longer he was quiet, the more anxiety and ideas swam through my mind.
“Hey,” I say, hitting his chest with my closed hand. “Stop making that face, you’re freaking me out.”
“Did people know you were supposed to go?”
“Huh? What kind of question is—“
He holds his hand up, looking at me seriously as he speaks again. “Giselle, I need you to answer the damn question.”
My gaze looks down as I think and I look up and nod.
“I mean . . . yeah, I’m sure a lot of people knew. She got them at this white elephant party she went to before Christmas and she was excited about it for weeks, so I’m sure she told everyone who would listen that we were going.”
He doesn’t speak, he just drops his hands before lifting them to hold the back of his head and step away from me like I just told him the world is ending.
“What?”
He doesn’t answer, just looks at me.
“Artem what—”
“If you were supposed to be there then whoever did it may have planned on you being there.”
I shake my head as I scoff. “And? What are you saying?”
He doesn’t answer, he just looks away, his jaw clenched.
“Artem. What the fuck are you saying?”
But I know what he’s saying. It’s obvious. But that can’t be right. “That isn’t possible Artem I was like fifteen, why would anyone do that, they could’ve gotten her whenever—”
“No, they couldn’t. Not if your father never had you two going out alone together without him or Caesar.
” I rack my brain thinking. Was I ever alone with my mom?
Not really. I guess we always went everywhere as a family, my father was always with us no matter what, until she passed . . . Is this why?
“But if they wanted me dead, they could’ve just killed me. It’s been twelve years since then Artem, they’ve had chances.”
“Not if they’re smart, they wouldn’t just kill you. Especially if someone was on to them. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t have let you even leave the house if he thought that they’d just kill you whenever.”
“Then, it’s fine right? Hypothetically if this is all true, I got lucky?”
He looked at me again finally, shaking his head. “If you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you wouldn’t believe in luck.”
I look down at the ground, as my foot pushes at nothing on the tile.
What is he insinuating?
That I’m dead meat?
There’s a hit on me that hasn’t been settled yet?
This, along with all the speculation of someone stealing my mom from me is just too much at once, but before I can even feel myself crumble again, I feel a warmth all around me.
“I would never let that happen to you,” he says in a low voice in my ear as his arms trap me against the counter.
I want to believe him. I want to believe I can just be simply saved by his words, but how can I know when my life is suddenly so uncertain? When everything is suddenly a lie and a conspiracy? I don’t even feel the tears fall, I’m so lost in thought when big arms engulf me completely.
“Promise me that you’re going to let me handle all of this,” he begs in my ear.
I want to scream. I want to slap him. How fucking dare he find a way right now to say he won’t let me step in? This is about my mom! This is possibly about my fucking future! All of me is screaming to fight . . . but I only feel my body melt.
“Artem . . . ” I say, my voice breaking but he only gently shushes me.
“Don’t. I’ll take care of it. Of you.”
My eyes close at his words as I just feel myself nod against his chest as I let myself go for the first time in a long time.