Page 5 of Loss and Damages

Jemma

Once the priest lets me go, I hurry out of the funeral home as quickly as I can.

I don’t stop to use my umbrella, instead running in the rain to my car.

My chest heaves, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t catch my breath.

I blame it on the storm and the rain pelting my face, but it’s not that, oh God, it’s not that.

Leo, my poor Leo, so lifeless in that coffin, his skin so cold when I kissed his cheek, the way he’s done for me in goodbye hundreds of times. I lean my forehead against the steering wheel and finally keen so loudly it hurts my own ears.

Never will he drop off another painting at the gallery or spend a lazy afternoon painting while I fire my china to set the paint.

Never will we drink wine and talk all night or walk along the path near the lake watching the ducks on our way into town where we’ll buy ice cream to eat on the way back.

My time with Leo was simple, uncomplicated, and now he’s gone.

The rain streaks my windows. No one can see inside and I cry uninhibited until my throat’s raw.

Cars all around me turn on their lights and drive slowly out of the parking lot.

I arrived late on purpose, hoping I wouldn’t have to see many people, but Leo never talked about how big his family is and I was unprepared.

Everyone in that room was a Milano. They all had the same coloring, the black eyes and pitch black hair.

The tears and the scowls. Only Father Dan’s blond hair and bright blue eyes stood out.

I’ve never met a priest before. My brother and I were raised without religion, and while Father Dan was nice enough, I wasn’t comfortable, trying to hold in my grief while his kind expression encouraged me to pour it out.

For the past couple of days between his accident and the wake, I didn’t believe Leo was truly dead, and seeing his body was a shock.

My poor Leo. For a deer. My weeping gives way to a hiccup of amused disbelief. It would be so like him.

I try my best to get myself under control, and while the sobs aren’t quaking in my chest, tears still run down my cheeks. I can drive, at least, and I’m just one of the few cars left in the parking lot.

As I back out, I turn to look behind me, and Dominic Milano is standing at the edge of the parking lot holding an umbrella for an older woman.

He looks exactly like her, and I assume she’s his mother, or possibly an aunt.

He stares at my car through the rain, and I hope the water running down the windows obstructs his view.

It’s like I told Gloria. He scares me, and I was never so glad than when I was able to say goodbye to Leo without having to meet him.

I’m not in the city often, and between the Friday night traffic and the rain, I’m a nervous wreck by the time I reach my brother’s building and park in a guest parking spot.

I could have driven home, but I’m afraid I’ll break down again any second.

I can’t get the picture of Leo lying in that coffin with a rosary wrapped around his hand out of my mind, and it’s safer to stay at my brother’s and sleep in his spare room.

I ride the creaky elevator to the tenth floor.

The second I knock, the door flies open, and my two-year-old niece rushes into my arms. I hug her close, the rain dripping down my trench coat soaking into her unicorn pajamas. She doesn’t care, snaking her arms around my neck and kissing me all over my face.

“Miss Maya, you should be in bed,” I say, sliding my feet out of my pumps.

“She was waiting for you,” Jeremy says, closing and locking the door. “I think she’ll end up in your bed tonight.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I know.” He lifts his daughter out of my arms and I unbutton my coat and hang it on a hook by the door.

“Hey, Jemma,” my brother’s wife, Tara, says, walking into the living room from down the hallway where their bedrooms are located. “How was the wake?”

“Sad. I didn’t want to believe he was gone.” I press my lips together. I don’t want to cry in front of Maya. She reaches out for me again, and I cuddle her in my arms and settle on the couch where she tucks her head under my chin and pops a thumb into her mouth.

Jeremy drops down next to me, and Tara sits on the armrest, sliding her feet under his leg. “Did you talk to anybody?”

“Just the priest. Father Dan, he said his name was. He kept asking if I wanted to find a quiet place to pray or attend the funeral. It was weird.”

“I’m sorry. I know how much you liked spending time with him. Leo, I mean.” Tara leans over Jeremy and squeezes my shoulder.

Tears fill my eyes, and I press my lips against Maya’s head to keep them inside.

I don’t want to cry again until I’m alone.

No one understands what Leo and I had. Sometimes even I didn’t understand it, and whenever he’d leave my cottage, I’d convince myself he’d meet someone in the city and never come back, but he always did. “It’s okay.”

“You were really brave to go there, and alone, too. What was it like? I’m sorry,” she rushes on, “that’s insensitive. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Jeremy wraps his arm around me, and I lean into his side. “It was intimidating. All that money in one room. His family’s huge, and I can’t understand why he didn’t like spending time with any of them.”

“Not everyone gets along like we do, Jem,” Jeremy says, kissing the top of my head the way I’m kissing Maya’s who has fallen asleep in my arms.

“He didn’t talk about it much. I know he idolized Dominic, but at the same time he despised him. I can’t imagine feeling like that about anyone.”

“Did you see him?” Tara asks, her voice an awed whisper.

Dominic Milano is practically a celebrity, dark windows, bodyguards, and sunglasses. He needs the bodyguards. When it comes to business, he ticks so many people off. Leo came and went as he pleased. Not once on his way to my cottage did anyone follow him or bother us if we walked into town.

“Yeah, he was sitting in a corner by himself. Stared at me the whole time, too.”

“Was his father there?” Tara loves the celebrity life and is always looking up the rag mags online. She would’ve come with me if I would have asked her to keep me company. I’m surprised she didn’t ask me to go herself.

“I don’t know. I didn’t look around that much. I just wanted to say goodbye and leave as quickly as I could.”

“It’s probably a good thing,” Jeremy says. “I didn’t like you mixed up with Leo anyway.”

I pull back, surprised. “You never told me that.”

“I don’t like you messing around the mafia. It’s dangerous.”

For the first time since I found out Leo was dead, I laugh, but it sounds hollow. “The Milanos are not part of the mafia.”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right? Of course they’re mafia. Dominic and Raphael do whatever the fuck they want. You can’t tell me they don’t have the mayor in their pocket.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re mafia. You’re stereotyping them because they’re Italian. Who cares if they are? That’s like me saying all they eat is gelato, which, I know, isn’t true. Leo’s favorite dessert was—”

“You?” Tara interrupts, wiggling her eyebrows.

“No! He liked angel food cake that had fresh strawberries and whipped cream on top. That doesn’t sound like mafia to me.”

Jeremy shakes his head. “What difference does that make? If he liked devil’s food cake, would you believe me then? Whatever you say, sis.”

“I think Leo would have told me.”

“They’re not going to announce they’re mafia.” He scoffs. “Have you ever seen Dominic Milano walking around St. Charlotte wearing a sandwich board sign advertising cement shoes for sale? I don’t think so.”

“I haven’t seen Dominic Milano do anything.” Besides stare at my car as I backed out of my parking space at the funeral home. “It’s not like we’re in the same league.”

“You and Leo were in the same league,” Tara points out, running her fingers through Jeremy’s hair.

“You can be in the same league as anybody if you’re alone talking about homeless shelters and programs to help the poor.

It felt different because he acted different.

Leo didn’t give off that venomous vibe, and it helped he never brought me anywhere.

Trust me, he would have felt very much out of my league if he’d taken me into the city.

Like on a date. He never mentioned anything except that benefit, and I never wanted him to. ”

“You can keep up with anybody,” she says, defending me.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t want to keep up with Dominic Milano. I miss Leo. He never asked for anything but my time, and I have a feeling that all Dominic Milano does is take, take, take.”

Tara licks her lips. “Yeah, well, I bet they’re willing to give.”

“That’s enough,” Jeremy says, playfully slapping his wife’s leg. “I think it’s time we get some sleep. I can show you how much I have to give.”

“Trying to have another baby?” I ask, cuddling Maya and smelling the delicate scent of baby shampoo in her hair.

“Not yet, but practice makes perfect.” He yanks Tara into his arms, and I turn away. I don’t want to watch him kiss her.

“Goodnight, you guys.” Carefully, I wiggle off the couch and walk down the hallway toward the nursery that doubles as a spare room.

I lay Maya on the queen bed near the wall and change into a set of pajamas I keep here.

I skip brushing my teeth and crawl into bed, snuggling her little body close to me.

Leo and I would lie like this when he was down, a little sad, and we would talk in the dark as moonlight played on the back of his hand while he wrapped my hair around his fingers.

It would’ve been romantic if we’d felt that way toward each other, but we didn’t.

I never felt the fire, the searing heat when we were together.

No, he was a cool balm after a long, hectic day at the gallery, and it was soothing, that I could be myself around him and he could just be Leo, someone who liked to paint, not a billionaire’s son.

There were no expectations, not even romantic ones.

We were simply friends, and that was enough for both of us.

I let tears run down my face and soak into the pillow.

Leo’s dead.

I can only be grateful I was able to say goodbye.