Chapter 144: Found Home
- DEX -
My father is lying peacefully in an open casket with flowers all over the room. Flowers that have likely been cut from their stems too soon. But that’s not what happened to my father. We didn’t expect him to pass this early in life, but he was ready. My mother was waiting for him.
That’s what I keep reminding myself. That’s what I’m going to tell everyone today when I stand up to speak about the man I respected and looked up to—the man who put family first and created a business that I’m proud to be a part of and a legacy that I’m honored to carry on.
Business associates, members of the board, co-workers, family, friends... there are so many people here. So many different connections to my father and so many different perspectives on what it means that he’s gone. I listen to them all and respond when necessary, imagining a protective field around myself to filter all of the devastating emotions and keep them from reaching me until a later time when I can process them alone.
An avocado. That’s the shape of the protective shield I’ve cloaked myself in, and nothing is strong enough to get through except Raya.
The code word I gave her today has my lips twitching and eyes flitting around the room in search of her. There is something to look forward to today at least—a light prepared to shine for me in the darkest room.
Raya finally walks in with her sister and dad. Luciano is following close behind looking like a predator stalking his prey, and I shake my head. I didn’t mention to Raya yet how he wants Rory to come to a family Sunday. Thankfully he didn’t press the issue this past weekend since father passed and I wasn’t in the mood to be around anyone. But it doesn’t look like Luci has forgotten. He appears just as determined as ever.
"Where’s Lawson?" That’s the question that’s repeating like a refrain, and I didn’t prepare for it. Every time it’s uttered, I’m grateful he’s alive if only to save myself from the guilt of murder every time I have to give some lame excuse about how he’s coping with our father’s death in his own way.
Hopefully Lawson’s narcissism and selfishness makes the excuse believable. Under regular circumstances, he would no doubt be here soaking up all the attention and feeding off of it, becoming the perfect image of the grief-stricken son that everyone expects. He’s good at playing a role. He had me fooled. He had me so fooled.
Too bad Grace decided to show up today, otherwise the rumor about Lawson running off with her could have continued to flame in the minds of Mobius Media employees. But now she’s here, so they’ll have to find a new theory. No doubt they will. I can count on their imaginations to create something worthy of the next blockbuster drama. As long as there are no mafia elements to their story and I’m left out of it, I don’t mind at all.
After what feels like the millionth time hearing Lawson’s name, my aunt starts answering for me and I couldn’t be more relieved. Maybe I look as exhausted and dragged down as I feel or maybe Zia just senses it.
I wrap an arm around her and kiss her temple—so grateful for her presence. Zia was a person I could call in my darkest moment and reveal a horrible secret to, and she handled it. She told my uncle. She kept my secret, and now she’s helping shield me from the discomfort of having to answer to others. The amount of love that requires takes my breath away.
I may not have parents left on this earth, but I have her. Zia’s maternal presence is a much-needed balm when I can’t reach for the woman I love.
If it wasn’t such an awkward time to reveal to the world that I’m in a relationship with Raya, I would have her next to me right now, finding comfort in the warmth of her body next to mine—reaching for her like a security blanket. She’s in the same room, but it’s not enough.
My eyes seek her out again, and I see her waiting politely to be given access to one of the rows so she can weave through and find a seat. Fuck it. If there’s one thing that matters in this world of mine, it’s her. More so even than the business or anyone else here.
I excuse myself from the group I’m in and make my way to where Raya’s standing. Her father and Luciano see me coming first.
Luci smirks and gives me a barely perceptible nod that makes me think he’s going to return to his family now that I’m coming for Raya, but he remains at Rory’s side instead. He’s a dog with a damn bone. If Rory encourages him at all, I doubt he’ll ever leave her alone until he gets what he wants. And if he hurts her, that’s going to be a problem. But it’s a problem for another day.
Raya looks up just as I arrive in front of her, and her beautiful blue eyes widen in surprise. I can feel others in the room take notice, and there’s even a dip in the murmuring when I take her hand without a word and lead her to the front of the room where I’m meant to sit.
Eyes are boring into us, and without looking at her, I know Raya’s cheeks are stained pink from the attention. Let them stare and gossip, I don’t care. This woman is and always will be mine, so they’re going to be seeing a lot of her. And I need her today. Already with her hand in mine, I feel like I can breathe again and face what I need to.
Zia gives Raya a hug and the warmest, most welcoming smile just as the ambient music shifts into a wordless indication that the ceremony is about to begin. Raya looks up at me again, likely seeking reassurance of some kind without realizing it. Once I wink at her, the insecurity in her expression smoothes, and the pillar of strength she has been for me this past week returns.
Whoever buys the lie that women are weak are out of their fucking minds. My zia and Raya are two prime examples. Sign me up for a matriarchal society. I will gladly serve and protect and fight for them. They are the real strength.
"Welcome everyone," the minister begins, and I draw Raya’s hand into my lap, lifting it to my lips to kiss and then proceeding to draw patterns into her palm while I listen to words about my father.
My heart hammers away when it’s my turn to speak, and I have to imagine the avocado of light that I’m surrounded with when I walk up to the pulpit. My gaze rests on Raya first before looking across the faces of everyone who has come to honor and pay tribute to the man known as Jansen Mobius.
"I didn’t prepare a eulogy," I confess with a soft chuckle, gripping the wood in front of me. "How do you distill the greatness of a man like my father into something so brief? I’m not personally capable of it, I know that. Especially not right now. But I will offer my perspective on Jansen Mobius as a father.
My earliest memory of him is of his smile and laughter. He was always smiling, especially when my mother was around. And his laugh was deep and infectious. There was a security to it—like if father was happy, all was right with the world.
He was kind and loving. Supportive, stern, protective... all the things a father and husband should be, in my opinion. He challenged me to find my own voice and my own way—to write my own story, one that I could be proud of. And I did. I am. I owe that to his encouragement and to the belief he always had in me.
As a businessman, he built a successful company centered on values that we can all be proud of. And the business—associates, employees, and clients included—were like an extension of family to him.
I know he is grateful to have you all here today. He would have something kind to say about each and every one of you, and I want you to listen closely. I think you’ll hear what that something is. Because my father was never one to leave without offering a final word," I say with a chuckle.
"The morning of his surgery last week, he told me that he saw my mother arranging a bouquet of flowers in his room. If I would have really listened, I would have realized what he was telling me. Father knew he was finally going home to be with her. As much as we are going to miss him and miss the brilliance of his mind and leadership, he wouldn’t want us to remain in a state of mourning. Because he’s happy. He’s with the love of his life. He’s home."
My gaze naturally returns to Raya, and she smiles—her rays of light casting themselves my way and offering their warmth.
"Thank you again," I say, patting the wood in conclusion and returning to my seat.
With a heavy sigh, I bring Raya’s hand to my lips again, grateful that like my father, I have found my home. And she is sitting next me.
