“What about Aris?” I ask.
“The police forced him to let go of her and he took off,” Stefano says.
Oh, God! Poor Aris. I need to find him.
After wrapping my mom up in a tight hug and telling her to call me once she’s home, I see them out and then head over to Aris’s villa to find out if he went there.
After banging on the door several times and no one answering, I begin my search of the property. I check the tiki bar to see if he came here for a drink but don’t find him. I dial his cell number, but he doesn’t pick up. Maybe he went to the hospital…I call Kostas, but he doesn’t pick up either. I spend the next couple hours combing through every inch of the hotel. The restaurants, the bars, the pools. I go by his office, but nobody’s there. I check the parking garage and see his car is there, so he has to be somewhere.
Before giving up and heading home, I try his place one more time. “Aris!” I shout, banging on the door. “If you’re in there, please open up. I just want to make sure…” I stop myself before I finish my sentence. Of course he isn’t okay. His mom just killed herself. His father, who she blamed, was shot. He’s the furthest thing from being okay. “Aris, please.” I pound on the door, refusing to give up. What if he’s hurt himself?
Finally the door swings open and Aris stumbles out slightly. “Talia,” he slurs. The blood from his mother is still covering his entire front. “Sweet, sweet Talia.” He smirks, but it’s not playful. It’s sad and despondent.
“Oh, Aris.” I pull him into a hug, and it’s then I notice he’s holding a bottle of liquor. It drops to the floor with a bang, and liquid sloshes out, spraying my feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“She’s…she’s dead,” Aris whispers. His mouth is so close to my ear, I can feel and smell his cool, liquor-covered breath.
“I know. I know,” I tell him, having no clue what to say. Nothing I say is going to make this better. He’s just lost both his parents. His mother literally, and his father…how will he ever get past it, knowing his father is why she killed herself?
“C’mon.” I wrap my arm around Aris’s waist and help him walk to the bathroom, so I can get him into the shower and clean him up. I let go of him momentarily to turn on the water, and he slumps against the wall, his body sliding down into a heap on the floor. His eyes close, and his head bangs against the wall.
“She’s dead,” he murmurs.
“Here, let me help you,” I tell him, needing to get his crimson-stained clothes off him. His eyes are still closed as he extends each arm so I can pull his suit jacket off. Next, I unbutton his shirt, then peel it from his body. His limbs are limp, and his breathing is almost nonexistent. “Aris,” I whisper, needing to know he’s still awake. His brown eyes open. His lids are hooded over, and his pupils are slightly dilated. He looks devastated and lost, and my heart breaks for him. I can’t imagine losing my mom, let alone watching her kill herself.
Reaching out, he pushes several strands of my hair out of my face and whispers, “She’s gone.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.” I yank each of his loafers off his feet, then pull his socks off. “I need you to stand so we can get your pants off.” The front of his pants, where he laid his mother’s head in his lap, is drenched through from the blood.
Aris swallows thickly, and his Adam’s apple bobs slightly. His eyes gloss over, and he nods once but doesn’t make any move to get up. Kneeling in front of him, I position my hands under each armpit and attempt to lift him. He’s too heavy and doesn’t budge. “Aris, please,” I beg. This time when he nods, he presses his hands against the marbled floor and stands. He’s shaky on his feet, but he remains standing while I unbutton and unzip his pants. I push them down and consider removing his briefs but don’t want to go there.
“The water is warm and will feel good,” I tell him as I guide him into the walk-in shower. The water rains down on his face and back, dripping down his body. The clear liquid turns red as it circles the drain and empties. I’m about to go find him a towel, when his hands grip my hips and he pulls me into the shower with him.
“Aris…” I begin, but he stumbles forward, pushing me against the shower wall. His face finds the crook of my neck and he nuzzles into it. The only sound is the water hitting the marble. For a second I think maybe Aris has passed out standing up, but then I feel it. His body trembling against mine. His shoulders shaking up and down. He’s crying. I don’t know what to do or say, so I do the only thing I can do. I wrap my arms around his torso and I hold him tight as his silent sobs rack his body. We stay like this until the water turns cold, and then Aris lifts his head.