First Came You (Fate #0.5) (7 page)

Before calling it a night and heading to bed, I ask permission to walk over to Tommy’s to tell him the good news.

When I approach his front door to knock, I hear shouting from inside.

At first it sounds like an argument between Mr. and Mrs. Edwards. My parents have them all the time, so I don’t judge. But at closer inspection—or eavesdropping, if I’m being accurate—I recognize Tommy’s voice and his Irish temper. “You’re ridiculous! I’m busting my ass. I’ve given up my summer to show you how dedicated I am. I ask you for one little thing and you treat me like a child?”

His father wastes no time bellowing back, “You live under this roof, you’re still a child in my eyes. End of story. The answer is no.”

With that, there’s a loud thump—the slamming of a door. Followed by stomping—Tommy probably stalking off to his room. And finally, whimpering—Tommy’s mother crying.

Whatever I just witnessed is probably none of my business, but I can’t help wishing I could come to the rescue the way Tommy has for me so many times in the past. The good news about us will have to wait for tomorrow. The bad news and the mystery behind what has the Edwards’ household in such an uproar, will keep me up all night.

Over the last two weeks, Tommy’s been super busy with schoolwork and his part time job at the bank. Figures that I finally get Mom’s permission to date and I haven’t seen much of my boyfriend. Other than him brushing off the fight I overheard, I don’t worry about his absence too much because I’ve been pretty occupied myself.

I mean, what girl doesn’t have to prepare herself in every way imaginable for her senior year of high school? This will be the best year of my life. There’s prom, yearbook, college applications, and all the cool social status type things that come with being part of the graduating class. I’m stoked. This is my year. I can just feel it.

As I’m organizing my closet to make room for my new outfits, Mom calls to me from downstairs. “Gabby, we’re going to the market. Is there anything specific you’re in the mood for this week?”

“Yes!” I shout back. “Can you please get Pop Tarts—the ones with the icing? Oh, and some Diet Coke? I’m headed out in a bit too, okay?”

“’Kay, bella. We’ll be back soon. Dad’s taking the ride, too.”

“Okay!”

A little while later, I stop by the bank to say hi to Tommy and to bring him a sandwich for lunch. On the walk back home, I ring Maria’s bell to ask if I can borrow a shirt of hers I’ve been admiring for a while. We get caught up in chatting about her latest movie date with Ben.

“I think I really like him, Gabby. He’s so sweet.”

“And super hot!” I add, giggling.

“Not as fine as your
older
man, but he’s a keeper. At least for senior year. Once college starts, I have no intention of being settled down like you and Tommy. You only live once and I plan on living it up!”

I shake my head at my friend—she has no idea that being in love with your soul mate
is
living it up.

“Maria! Time for dinner,” Maria’s mom announces and knocks on her door before entering.

“Oh hey, Gabby. Would you like to stay? There’s more than enough.”

I take notice of the clock on Maria’s desk and shoot up out of the bed. “I didn’t realize the time! Thank you so much for asking, but I better get home. My parents are probably wondering where I am.”

We say our goodbyes and I head home, hoping Mom and Dad aren’t too pissed that I wasn’t there to help them unload the car and put away the groceries. But the door is locked when I get there—weird, since they always leave it open when they’re home. The phone is ringing off the wall as I put my key in the lock and I instantly wonder why no one’s answering it.

The ringing stops just as I get to it, and realize that the house is empty. “Mom? Dad?” I call. Where can they be? Something’s not right.

The phone rings again, and all sorts of bad scenarios start to run through my head.

Staring at the phone, unable to move, I look down at my arms—clenched around my stomach—and notice the hairs standing at attention. Something unknown propels me to answer. I pick up the receiver, hoping I’m only imagining this unsettling feeling. “Hello, Rossi residence.”

My sister’s tone is sharp, frenzied. “Gabby! For the love of God, where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for hours. The police—”

“Whoa! Hold up. Calm down a second, Gina. What’s the matter? What happened?” She’s scaring me. I try not to jump to terrifying conclusions, but there’s this ominous fear in the air, and my parents aren’t home, and—I just can’t shake this feeling.

Without any warning or cushioning, my sister lets out a gut-wrenching wail. “They’re dead! Oh my god, Gabby, they’re dead!”

My heart sinks to my toes.

Her words sting like sharp razor blades piercing through my skin. Something inside me knows who she’s talking about, but I don’t even want to think it. So, I scream back in fear, “Who, Gina?
Who?
”

Her sobbing is uncontrollable, her tormented moans unrelenting. Words are emitted but they’re indecipherable screams.

“Gina! Calm down! You’re scaring me. Speak slower, clearer. What’s going on?”

Her hysterics cease for a brief second to answer me and when she does, I wish she hadn’t. “Mommy and Daddy.”

As the words leave her lips and poison my ears, I hang on to any thread of hope. As horrible as it sounds, I want it to be someone else’s parents, leaving the two people I need most in my life alone, letting them be okay. “Whose, Gina? Whose Mommy and Daddy?”

“Ours, Gabby.
Our
Mom and Dad are gone. They’re dead.”

The response echoes in my ears like a horrifying boom.

My vision blurs, the corners of my eyes invaded by blackness.

My stomach burns, causing blazing heat to travel up to my throat, and a sheen of sweat to prickle my upper lip. Panic sets in, and my legs go wobbly. I can only conclude that if this is true, my happy, perfect life as I know it is over.

“Nooooo!” I scream, letting the tears take over. How will I never see them again, never hug them again, never tell them I love them again? The sobs rack my body, causing me to shake so fiercely I fear I might convulse.

This can’t be happening. I can’t be hearing right.
This
can’t be right.
Dead?
My parents? How can my parents be
dead?
They were just going grocery shopping! They were just
here!
How did this happen?

With no one around to answer me, or to hold and comfort me, I feel utterly helpless.

I’m lost.

Completely alone.

Scared out of my mind.

With that last thought, the phone falls from my lifeless grip and hangs by its cord, bobbing up and down like a bungee rope.

I stare at the unwelcome emptiness surrounding me, frozen still in our kitchen.
Our kitchen. Our home.
Five minutes ago this place was normal.
Home.
Now everything has changed with this one phone call.
There is no more normal. Normal is gone, just like them.

Silence envelops me—ghastly, disturbing, isolated silence.

“They’re gone.” I weep. “Dead. Gone. Over.” It means everything else should stop too. Everything should stop. Everything should end. Their lives are over, my life is over, so the world shouldn’t be able to continue. “Noooooo!” I scream, tugging the hairs at the sides of my head.

When I find myself too weak to stand any longer, I slide down the wall, crouching on the floor with my knees to my chest. I sit motionless as the tears pour from my eyes with no remorse. At the rate they fall, I wonder if I’ll create my own private puddle to drown in. I wish I could just disappear because a life without them, is not one I want to live in. I want to be
with
them. The only way though is to be dead too.

Dead . . . dead . . . dead.

The word repeats in my head like a broken record skipping over and over again, torturing me.

My beautiful, loving, wonderful mother and father are dead. They’re gone and it’s a reality I do not want. A change so unwelcome and devastating, I fear there’s no way I’ll get through it. There is no bright side, no this-will-be-okay. I can’t see how anyone can ever recover from pain this debilitating.

I need my Mom! I need my Daddy! Why would you do this to me? Why, God? Why?

I’m angry with God. So furious, I pound my fists on the floor beside me, hoping to cause pain somewhere other than my heart. I strike my fists so hard against the linoleum tiles that I wear myself out.

Slumping forward, hugging my knees, I let the tears fall as they may; I let my heart hurt, and I tell my parents over and over how much I love them.

Even though I’ll never hear them say it back.

“I’m so sorry, Gabby.” Tommy strokes my hair as he holds me in his lap. “Gina called my parents and told us everything.”

I don’t realize I’m being cradled in his loving arms until I hear him speak.

How long have I been sitting here? How much time has passed?

“Where’s Gina?” I finally ask, casting a look up at my hero. My eyes are painful slits, my voice is hoarse and weak, but I need answers and that’s the first thing I can think of. My sister. It’s only me and her. Alone. Orphans. Because my parents are dead.

Images I don’t want to think about flood my subconscious in bits and pieces, like movie clips of the future I won’t have. An image of graduations without them cheering me on and telling me how proud they are of me makes my stomach lurch with fear. The vision of someone other than my father giving me away at my wedding makes my skin prickle with horror. And the thought of becoming a mother without my own to give me the advice I’ll need to follow in her footsteps—

The realization makes me weep again. I dig my face into Tommy’s neck and let loose while he allows me to unravel. “Why? Why, Tommy? This is so unfair.”

“I know, baby. I know.” There’s nothing else for him to say. Nothing he says will comfort me or shed light on this dark subject. All hope is lost—for good.

I search for answers, something solid, through a curtain of tears, “What happened, Tommy? Did Gina tell you what happened?”

Kissing the top of my head, not bringing its usual comforting calm, Tommy explains, “Baby, they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were on their way home from the grocery store when some old man had a massive heart attack behind the wheel. He hit your parents’ car head-on. They all died on impact, baby. They didn’t suffer.” His voice doesn’t tremor or break. I wonder how he can be so strong. Then again, I know he’s doing this for me.

Now that I know, I can’t get my own made up visions of horror out of my mind. I picture broken glass, blood, flashing lights, and emergency responders trying to rescue what is already gone. Was Dad holding Mom’s hand? Did she tell him she loved him as her life flashed before her eyes? Did they have each other’s comfort as they took their last breaths? I’ve seen it enough on television and in the movies, but with the victim’s faces as my parents—will I ever be able to erase this from my mind? This is all too much to comprehend.

“I never got to say goodbye,” I whimper into Tommy’s neck. “I’ll never see them again.”

“I know, baby. Just let it all out.” He rocks me as he comforts me. “Just cry. Cry as hard as you want. As long as you want. I’m here for you. Always. I love you.”

I fall asleep, exhausted and drained, in Tommy’s arms on the kitchen floor.