“Something’s wrong,” I say. When he nods, my stomach and chest tighten. “What’s happened?” I’m afraid to ask.
He takes both my hands into his and holds them.
“Baby, it’s José,” he replies. His tone is low and distant. Too distant for him. “Something’s happened to him.”
A sudden heaviness expands my core, making my heart squeeze then go numb.
“What… happened to him, Mikhail?” I choke out.
“I’m sorry, baby, he’s… dead. He was killed.”
My hands fly to my mouth, and I shoot up to my feet. Tears well in my eyes then spill over and run down my cheeks.
“No.” I shake my head. “No. It’s not true. It can’t be. I saw him yesterday. He’s not… dead. It’s not true, Mikhail. No.”
Mikhail moves closer and holds me by my shoulders.
“I’m truly sorry.” His voice holds more emotion than I’ve ever heard.
I continue to shake my head in disbelief and then finally snap when I realize he’s not correcting what he just told me.
When I think of José and the man he is to me, I break. The tears come harder, draining my strength, and I scream as my knees give and I fall to the floor.
Mikhail pulls me close to him, folding me into a soothing embrace, but I’m so broken I can’t feel him.
I can’t feel anything besides the sadness that tears me apart.
“José,” I whisper through my tears.
Mikhail pulls me even closer. The rapid beat of his heart is the only thing that anchors me from slipping away into the sadness.
I can’t even ask what happened to him because all words are frozen in my mind.
* * *
I don’t know how long I cry for. I remember it being dark outside, then the sun rose. Then night fell again, and I still cried. The only difference as the time moved was me moving from the floor to the bed.
It seems all the grief I’ve suffered in my life has come pouring out of my soul.
First for Mom, then Papa, now José.
I don’t have anyone left now who was close to my heart, and I know the clock is ticking over my head when it comes to Mikhail.
He stayed with me, holding me, but I still can’t feel anything. I can’t feel him even when he touches me. It’s like the numbness has suffused my being and I will never feel anything again but this sadness.
It’s late in the night when Mikhail tries to get me to eat some fruit Aleksander brought up earlier.
I haven’t eaten anything, and I don’t want to. I’ve just been sipping on water and orange juice here and there. I can’t remember the last time I ate.
“Natalia, please eat something. I need you to eat something, baby.” Mikhail holds out some grapes to me.
I shake my head and rest it back on the headboard.
“What happened to him?” I finally ask. Those are the most words I’ve spoken since I got the news. “What happened to José?”
I’ve heard Mikhail on phone calls talking about it, but he never said enough or gave enough information for me to grasp what happened.
He sets the bowl of fruit back on the nightstand and looks at me.
