CHAPTER 16
Adrian
We reach Dominick’s home quickly. He gets off the bike first. He takes off his helmet. The smile on his face tells me he’s happy. He likes spending time with us. He doesn’t say it, but it shows. He speaks of his mother on occasion. There is tenderness in his voice when he says her name, her title. They are close. As it should be.
He runs to the door and unlocks it. She isn’t here. I feel a pang of disappointment that I don’t get to give her the book in person. It’s nothing really. Not a gift in the real sense of the word. I don’t know when her birthday is. Some cultures celebrate name days. We don’t, but, maybe she does. It doesn’t matter. It’s not Christmas either. It’s just another day. A Saturday.
Dominick told me about her love of reading. My home library is scarce. I’m sad to say that. I miss the books that burned down with the home we previously lived in. It’s difficult traveling on a motorcycle with books. Moving, too.
“Come on in,” Dominick tells me, when he sees I’m standing in the doorway. “If you’re a vampire, I just invited you in and you’re free to feast on me.” Dominick laughs.
He told me that his mother read Dracula to him last year. He also told me they both liked it. Of course they would. It’s a classic. His mother has good taste in books. People with good taste in books are good people. They aren’t judgmental. Evil people can’t like good books.
I walk into the house. It smells like fresh flowers. I turn to my left and see a purple, glass vase filled with a garden bouquet. A pair of gardening gloves and shears are resting next to it. A big, broad-rimmed sun hat rests on the coat rack.
“My mom’s into gardening,” Dominick adds, seeing me watch those items. “You hungry?”
“No, thank you,” I shake my head. “When is your mother coming back?”
“Probably around 9,” he tells me.
I look at the wall clock. It’s close to 8 pm.
“I wanted to give this to your mother,” I tell him, holding the book in my hand.
“What is it?”
“It’s a signed copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula.”
“Wow,” I hear him whistle, impressed. The sensation brings me joy. If he’s impressed, hopefully, she will be as well. “She’ll love it.”
“Do you think so?” I ask.
“I’m sure,” he nods. “So, you like my mom?”
He sits on the couch, and opens a can of Coke. He drinks it thirstily, then places it down on the little coffee table. I notice there are no coasters. Maybe his mother doesn’t mind.
“She is a lovely woman,” I say, confused. How does one say this to a child? Is this even a conversation the two of us should be having?
“Do you think she’s attractive?” Dominick continues. I see he’s smiling.
“Yes, she is very attractive,” I nod again. “But, I don’t think it’s a topic I should be discussing with you.”
“Fair enough,” he agrees. “Wanna play?”
He grabs the PS console and throws one at me. I react quickly and grab it in my hands. I’ve never played this. He probably sees it on my face.
“Come on, I’ll show you how it works.”
We spend the following hour playing shooter games. I’m not that good at it. I’m better hands on, but I won’t be telling any of that to this boy. I almost envy him for everything he’s got. A life ahead of him. A mother who loves him. He can go places in the world. I’m grateful to Mason, but this is the only road for me. There will never be any other, and that saddens me sometimes.
“Knock, knock!”
We both turn around to face the door the moment we hear the sound of someone’s voice. I recognize it immediately. So does Dominick. A beautiful face appears before us a moment later. She is slightly flushed. She is carrying bags in her hands.
“Let me help you,” I jump up.
“Glad someone will,” she smiles, allowing me to take the bags from her.
I take them to the kitchen, and she follows me there. She smells like burgers and fries. Her hair is up in a ponytail. When she brushes past me, a faint whiff of her flowery perfume is still there, on her perfectly white skin. Flawless.
“Oh, I so need a nice, relaxing shower,” she moans, massaging the back of her neck with her hand, and tilting her head to the side.
I wonder at the sound of water sliding down her perfect skin. But, that is a sight I will never witness. I can’t even hope. I erase the potentially dangerous image from my mind. I doubt I’d even know what to do. It’s been so long. Too long.
I return to the living room to grab the book I brought her. When I come back to the kitchen, I see her putting a few groceries away.
“This… this is for you.”
When she turns to face me, she is surprised. Pleasantly surprised. She looks down at my hands and the book I’m holding.
“For me?” she asks.
“Yes,” I nod. “Here.”
She takes it into her hands, like a trembling little kitten, careful not to hurt it. She opens the first page and sees the scribbles.
“Wait, this….” she gasps when she recognizes the signature. “He signed this!?”
“Yes,” I confirm, happy with the reaction I caused.
“I can’t accept this,” she shakes her head in disbelief. “This is too much. Do you know how much this is worth?”
“I don’t care about the financial worth of a book,” I explain. “To me, a book is worth whatever someone decides it’s worth. And, to you, it is priceless. I can see that.”
“It’s amazing,” she whispers.
Her fingers trail the embossed leather cover, the gold plated title. She opens it and flips through the pages, enjoying the smell. There is no such thing as the smell of old books. It brings me joy that I found someone who enjoys it as much as I do.
“Then, please accept it as a gift.”
She eyes the book again, unable to believe that such a piece of treasure has fallen into her hands. I could watch her expression all day long. I wouldn’t get tired of it.
“Are you sure?” she asks again.
“Of course,” I assure her.
Once this pleasant exchange is done, I can’t but feel somewhat awkward. Wagner often tells me that’s how I make other people feel, but I don’t get that impression. I simply say what is. I don’t beat around the bush. It’s true that I find it difficult to trust someone.
Mason asked me if I trust Danica. My reply was that it’s not whether we trust her. It’s whether she trusts us. He didn’t see it that way at first.
“Well, now I have to get you something, too,” she tells me, blushing.
“I don’t need anything, thank you.”
“Well, none of us really needs anything, apart from food and clean air, right?” she laughs. Her laughter sounds like the chiming of a thousand little church bells, from afar, followed by a choir of song birds. “I’ll come up with something. Are you hungry?”
“No, I should be going. The only reason I stayed longer and enjoyed your hospitality was to make sure Dominick wasn’t alone.”
“That’s sweet of you, thank you, Adrian.”
“My pleasure.”
I say goodbye to both of them, and head over to the door.
“Hey, Adrian?”
I hear her shout after me. I turn around. She comes at me with arms wide open and she hangs them around my neck. She smells like a dying man’s last meal, the one he’s wanted all his life, the one he never wants to finish.
I can feel the tip of her nose pressed to my neck. She squeezes me for a single moment, then lets go. I didn’t even have time to put my arms around her. She’s gone already.
“Thank you,” she repeats. “I mean it.”
“I know you do,” I smile as much as my scar allows me.
Every time I smile, I instinctively reach for it. Like an itch that never goes away, no matter how hard you scratch at it. But, this time I resist the sensation. I let it run its course, while I focus on Danica’s smile, on her perfect teeth, her fully round lips. I haven’t seen her with her hair down yet. She must be even more stunning.
“Good night,” I tell her finally, not wanting to overstay my welcome.
As I walk over to my bike, I hear laughter inside of my head. Fingers are pointing at me, teeth bared. It’s all a game to them. My life. A freak. I’ve lived in the conviction that no one could ever care for me. No one would ever accept me as I am. And yet, Mason has. Wagner has. I finally belong. Only, there is one thing missing, always missing.
I turn around one last time and raise my hand. She is standing on the doorway, leaning against it. She looks so small. So fragile. I always know when someone carries a burden. We all have our crosses to bear. Hers seems much heavier than she herself can endure. I want to be there for her. I want to take some of that burden away, and make her feel safe again.
I step on the gas and drive away. It’s a cold night. It’s a fine contrast to the fire that burns inside of me.