Chapter 25 #3
“I may not wax eloquent the way you do; I speak plainly. That makes it easy to answer because I’m just telling the truth. It’s simple.”
“We have different definitions of simple.”
“Yeah, that’s because even when you tell the truth, you spend time thinking about how to tell the truth. And when you do that, you can leave it up to interpretation.”
His lips were thin as he listened to me. Instinctually, I wanted to backtrack, but that wasn’t the way I wanted to shape our relationship—walking on eggshells and softening our blows. He was more than that. I was more than that. We could be more than that.
“My parents weren’t addicts,” he said suddenly. Taking me by the waist, he directed me to move off of him. He tucked his arm beneath me and pulled me against him, the same way I’d held him while we slept.
With my head on his chest, I ran my fingers down his sternum. “I’ve never been held like this before. It feels like I’m too big.”
“You’re not. You’re just right.”
I smiled, grateful that he couldn’t see me right now. “So, your parents weren’t addicts.”
“Nope.”
“But you said—”
“And I meant it. Drugs did kill my parents. But they were simply the catalyst for evil.” He stroked my shoulder blades while I listened to the steady beat of his heart.
“I didn’t have a messy life, as you put it.
Far from it. My parents were both doctors in San Francisco.
We had a decent place outside the city. Three bedrooms, a fenced backyard, a hamster, a Labrador, the whole shebang. ”
“Sounds serene.”
“It was.”
“What happened?” I dug my fingers into his chest as if he might bolt.
He took a steady breath, his heart rate remaining constant.
“They worked at a clinic that was open late. When they were leaving, some people came and stopped them. They wanted drugs from the pharmacy inside. When my parents refused, well, they didn’t like that.
And in one fell swoop, I became an orphan that night.
At least the bastards didn’t get their drugs, though. ”
I wasn’t sure if it was better to look at him or remain where I was. He cared about his parents; I knew that with absolute certainty despite the detached tone of his voice.
Lifting my head, I found him staring out the window. He must’ve been aware of me, but he didn’t turn.
“All I had were an aunt and cousin,” he went on without me having to ask. “I was with them for eleven months, but . . . Let’s just say things didn’t work out. Off I went to my first foster home.”
“Was it bad?”
“That one? Nah.” He looked up at the ceiling, and I saw the hint of a smile on his face.
“They were a young couple that had fertility issues. They connected with me, and they actually talked about keeping me. Then they got pregnant unexpectedly, and well, being able to have their own family took precedence over some kid off the street.”
“They could’ve still kept you.”
“I don’t fault them. They were, like, twenty-five or something. Fostering, and especially adoption, is a lot to deal with. They probably gave me a false sense of hope for the system. I wasn’t prepared for what else was out there. I really wasn’t prepared.”
I lifted up on my elbow and unabashedly studied his face. He stared back at me, somehow both guarded and open. As I studied his eyes, I wondered if I’d recognize them when he was Mal’s age, back before the world betrayed him and forced him to hide behind the enigma of his verse.
“What happened?”
“Oh, this and that,” he said lightly. Growing serious, he pinched my chin and ran his thumb across my lips.
“The wicked can recognize the tremor in someone’s soul, like they can see the echo of the first monster you survived.
They take it as an invitation because you’re already broken, weak, so half their work is already done.
Wolves are prone to going for easy prey, and they circle you, getting closer and closer, until one day, they pounce.
You don’t recognize it until it’s too late. Then you wise up a bit.”
“How many wolves?”
He didn’t look away, nor did his expression change. “Enough.”
“I’m so sorry. For whatever happened to you. Any of it. All of it.”
“Shh.” He laughed softly, his expression taking on a warmth that had disappeared for a few minutes. “Look at me. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, now.”
“Now’s all that matters, really.”
“If you’re being simplistic, sure.”
“Weren’t you just telling me that I overcomplicate my words? Well, there’s your not-open-to-interpretation version of events, whatever it’s worth.”
“It’s worth everything,” I said before I settled on his chest again.
When he kissed my head for a long minute, it felt like he’d comforted me for some reason, and it made me wonder more about this man who had every reason to view life through a lens of unwavering cynicism.
Despite everything, even the poetry that leaned toward sorrow, Remi didn’t strike me as a dark person deep down.
Then again, there was his issue with looking in the mirror and his obvious failure to see his own worth.
Like we’d established early on, we’d see how things went one day at a time.