When the tragic death of Inanna's parents leaves her utterly alone, meeting a handsome stranger in a bar awakens her darkest fantasies and changes her life forever.
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No one could have predicted the car accident that took the lives of Inanna's par...
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"Together in life, now, they continue their love together in death."
The sound of the minister's words landed with the same impact as the heavy rain pelting the glossy brown caskets, only to spatter into smaller droplets, then run in rivulets off the sides to the dark soil below. The too-bright fake green turf surrounded the empty holes, hid the gaping earthen wound, and covered the mounds of dirt waiting to cascade onto my parents, locking them forever within the cold, wet ground.
A shiver crawled up my spine, and I huddled deeper into the long black jacket borrowed from my mother's closet. Not that she'd need it again. She wouldn't even know I'd taken it. Or that I'd gotten mud on her black patent heels. Ruined them, most likely. Why had I been stupid enough to wear heels to the cemetery? She'd have been furious with me. I could almost hear her voice, that tone of disappointment that never failed to have me lowering my head in shame, curling in on myself, and vowing to do better.
Her small smile.
That little shake of her head when she'd hug me and tell me she knew I would.
Another tear slipped down my cheek, joining the rain trickling from my hair, sliding into the collar of my jacket, and soaking my thin blouse and skirt. I'd tried to find my dad's umbrella, the big black one with the oak handle. But it wasn't in his closet or the hall closet. He'd probably had it with them in the car when they-
I swallowed, trying to not picture it, trying to not imagine the sudden bright lights in the night, the screech of brakes on a rain-slick road, the screams, panic, and rending of metal and fragile flesh. God, I hoped it was quick. That they didn't linger. The policeman said they were dead when help arrived. I hoped that meant quick. I couldn't stand the idea that they'd suffered.
The words stopped, yet the rain continued its rapid tattoo, intensifying, a blurring grey sheet pouring from the heavy sky. A few pats on my shoulder, a murmured word from the minister, and in minutes, only I stood there with the man lowering the coffins into the graves.
Once finished, he spoke, but the words didn't register. The fake grass was removed. Sodden earth was poured into each grave by the little bobcat until the holes disappeared, again level with the surrounding grass. Then even the sound of the bobcat disappeared. The rain slowed to a drizzle. To an occasional drop. The clouds lifted slightly, just enough to bring Seattle's skyline into view.
Drenched to the skin, shivering, fingers and toes numb despite the warm mid-June temperature, I slowly shuffled away from my parents, my soul cracking as mobility returned to frozen muscles and joints. They'd never leave here, and I wasn't sure my heart wasn't buried along with them.
Numb inside and out, I went through the motions of walking to the bus stop, waiting for the correct bus to arrive, and riding it to East Adler Street, two blocks from the three-storey Victorian that was my childhood home. I trudged up the steps of the front porch, avoiding the weak spot on the third tread, and pulled open the screen door to unlock the deadbolt.
