Bend Me, Daddy

VEDA

After two uneventful weeks, the day of my sister's memorial service arrived. I rode with Sammy to the funeral home, my hands twisted in

my lap. I'd wanted to bring flowers, but with my allergies, it was impossible to have them in the car with me. I'd arrive looking like I just stepped out of a Rocky movie after the final match, so I'd sent them ahead.

My father had wanted to have the service at their house, but my mother talked him out of it. She said she didn't want the memory of mourning her daughter assaulting her every time she entered that room to watch television at night. And I was glad. Although Enzo had called me once to assure me they were under protective watch, and nothing else had happened, the chaos of people coming and going would make it too easy for someone to blend in with the crowd and slip inside my parents' home.

It was a huge relief that everyone I loved was safe and I'd had no reason to seek out the help of the man I was trying my damndest to forget, so why was I was so... restless?

With a sigh, I turned to look out the window. I knew why. Because I missed him. I missed Luca. More than I ever thought possible.

"How you doing, V?"

I turned to Sammy and gave her the best smile I could manage. "I'm okay. I'll be better when this is over."

She glanced over at me, her eyes falling to the dress I was wearing. "Well, you look too damn good in that dress to waste it on something so sad. If I didn't have to study later, and your life wasn't possibly in danger, I'd take you out for a night on the town when this was over."

I looked down at myself. The dress I'd found was simple and black, as befitted the situation, but even I had to admit it was a flattering style on me. It was sleeveless, but the neckline was high, cut straight across the bottom of my throat to cover the new scars on my chest. The bodice tapered down to my waist, where the skirt flared out in an A-line to my knees, hanging lower in the back. I wore low black heels on my feet and a simple silver chain. My hair was pulled back off my face, but left to tumble down my back in artful curls. Because I knew he liked my hair down. I'd also found a hair stylist that was able to match my natural blonde. For him. Because I knew he liked my natural color. Even though I shouldn't have spent the money. I even had a little bit of makeup on.

As if she could read my thoughts, Sammy asked, "Do you think he'll show up? Your hot gangster dude?"

I shook my head, even as hope flared in my heart. "No. Why would he?"

"To see you, Veda."

"He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"From the way you looked when you came home from the strip club that night, you'll understand if I disagree."

I turned to look out the window again so she wouldn't see the tears welling in my eyes. "And that was obviously a proper goodbye fuck, wasn't it? Because I haven't seen or heard from him since."

That came out sharper than I intended, but at least it got her off the topic of Luca. "Sorry," I mumbled.

She shrugged it off. "How's your mom been toward you since you've been back?"

"Oh, you know, the usual." My smile this time was bitter. "She blames me for Nicole getting mixed up with the wrong crowd. Blames me for not watching out for her better. Blames me for the fact that she died and not me..." I trailed off, looking down at my hands. "I don't know why I even bother."

"You do it for your dad."

She was right. "Yeah. I shudder to think what my life would've been like without him in it, having to deal with just my mom and my sister."

Sammy reached over and laid her hand over mine, stopping my nervous fidgeting. "Let's hope we don't ever find out, yeah? Because your mother is seriously fucked up, V." Giving me a squeeze, she returned her hand to the steering wheel and turned on her blinker to turn into the funeral home. "But if you do, you'll always have me. You're my family, V. You're all I have now."

"And I always will be," I told her, then leaned across the seat and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

She parked the car, and we gathered up our purses and got out of the car. "Ready?" she asked me.

"Not in the slightest."

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"Great. Let's go." Linking her fingers with mine, we walked into the funeral home hand in hand to go say hello to my parents, holding our purses in front of our faces to avoid the photographers.

My sister was semi-famous, and now that word had gotten out about her death, people were crawling out of the woodwork to gawk at her grieving family and the few real friends she had. And my mother stood in the center of it all dressed in black lace and a veil, like the queen of the ball, accepting people's condolences while elegantly patting at her face with a tissue. It took everything I had not to roll my eyes. I knew she was grieving, but she could be sad and enjoy all of the attention at the same time. Actually, she was a pro at it.

Spotting my father sitting by himself in the front row of chairs, Sammy and I headed that way. "Hi, Dad."

He dragged his eyes away from the sight of my mother. "Hey, honey.

Sammy. How are you?"

"I'm good, sir. Thank you."

He didn't even fuss at her for calling him sir. That's the only way I knew how upset he was. My father would be a badass poker player if he was a gambler. You rarely knew what he was thinking or feeling unless he told you.

I sat on one side of him, and Sammy sat on the other. Taking his hand in mine, I admired the large photo of Nicole that stood on a stand at the front of the room. Large flower arrangements surrounded it, and I felt a sneeze tickling my nose despite the allergy meds I'd taken before we left.

It was kind of surreal. The photo, the place, everything. But especially the photo. It was almost like looking at a picture of myself. Or at least the self I'd been forced to become while living with Luca.