Alpha by Marc Streitenfeld
19. Death
I read the epitaph on his grave just like I do each time I come here.
February 7th 1960-August 4th 2018
Beloved father, friend, and lover
I thought it would be nice to leave the grave nameless…to keep his sense of mystery alive even beyond his death. I'm sure he would've loved that. Red was a man who had a flair for the dramatic. He was such a drama queen.
I laugh at the thought. He would've been appalled to have heard me tell him that.
We hadn't been together for as long as I would've liked to have been when they finally caught up us. We were out in London sitting in a café when they shot at us from an SUV. Red, being the knight in shining armor, threw himself in front of me, getting himself riddled with bullets in the process. Maybe I am ungrateful for his sacrifice…but I wish it had been me who had gotten killed instead. Then I wouldn't have to endure the pain of his loss. He was larger than life…
I turn back towards my husband and baby boy where they stand on top of the hill. I named him Raymond. To remember.