Chapter 34 #2
Dante’s face saddened for a moment, as if reliving those days, but he masked it as soon as it appeared. “It’s okay, Amelia. Your sister had just died. I’m over it, I get it. Don’t beat yourself up, I don’t want you to have another thing to be sad about, okay?”
My heart softened. Dante had not changed much. He was still the sweet and kind boy that I had known. Never giving me a hard time or throwing things in my face.
I wiped my eyes hard, trying to clear away the salt before it could crust. “You always do that,” I said, half accusing, half grateful. “Make it sound easy to forgive me, even when I don’t deserve it.”
Dante grinned, but it was a sideways thing. “Maybe I’m just dumb like that.”
“Or maybe you’re just a better person than most.” I let that sit. I was not one for giving compliments, not even to people who earned them. It left me exposed, a nerve with no skin.
He shrugged and looked out the window, then back at me. “How did it go today? At the house, I mean. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, but you look like you’ve been through it.”
I let my gaze blur past him to the diner’s long, greasy counter and the red-eyed cop hunched over his coffee.
“It was worse than I expected, which is saying something. The house is haunted, not by ghosts, but by all the things we never said. I found her journals. She wrote about wanting to do better, and failing, and then just giving up. I read her last letter to me. That was not fun.”
He waited, watched my face like he was waiting for the punchline, the moral, the way it all fit together.
“She said she hoped I’d forgive her, but she didn’t expect it.
She wanted me to be happy and to get away from the sadness she carried around.
At first, I was angry, but now I’m just sad she couldn’t be alive to see it for herself.
To see me fly the way she hoped. I just miss her.
I hadn’t let myself miss her for a long time, but now I do. ”
Dante sipped his coffee, watching me carefully. “That must have been a lot to take in, but I could imagine that was a release in a way, to have some kind of closure.”
I nodded and flashed him a sad smile. “It was sort of like a release. I know now what she was thinking towards the end, and how she tried so hard to do better, but failed over and over because she was only human. It feels better knowing, because the not knowing would have torn me apart.”
“That makes sense. I’m glad to hear it helped ease your pain, even a little bit. You don’t deserve so much pain, Amelia.”
I squirmed in my seat, suddenly shy in the intensity of his gaze. “Thank you. You are too sweet.”
He smiled again, but faltered when he noticed my face that appeared to be holding back a dam. “You know, you can cry if you want,” he said, “You don’t have to hide it from me. I’ve already seen you at your worst, remember?”
“Oh god, don’t remind me,” I laughed, a little too loud, and it caught us both by surprise.
Dante leaned in, elbows on the table. “It’s not a bad memory, you know. I always liked that you were real with me.”
I pressed my palms to my eyes, let the pressure erase everything for a second. “I feel like a disaster. I’m in town for two days, and already I’m back to being that teenager who can’t stop making everything about her.”
He sipped his coffee and set it down so gently it made the spoon next to it tremble. “You grew up, Amelia. You’re not her anymore. But you don’t have to prove it to me.”
I opened my mouth, thought about telling him everything. About the list I’d made, the way I still slept with the lights on, the way I’d never once let myself feel safe even on the outside. But the words stuck.
Instead, I said, “I don’t know how to be anything else. I keep thinking if I figure out what’s wrong with me, all the sadness will just stop.”
“Some people are just built for hope. Doesn’t mean we’re idiots, just means we’d rather try than not.
But, if you ask me, I don’t think anything is wrong with you.
You had a rough upbringing, doesn’t mean you are broken.
Just means you are stronger than most.” He shrugged. “Sorry if that sounds corny.”
“It doesn’t. I wish I could be like that.” My voice caught on the wish. I could feel the ache gnawing through my chest.
“Maybe you already are,” he offered. “You just don’t see it yet.” He grinned, then gestured at my mug. “Drink up. You’re going to need the strength to get through the rest of your time here.”
I laughed, broken but real, and drank. “So, what did you end up doing with your life?” I asked.
Dante pursed his lips, thinking. “I work at the auto shop, same as my old man. Left for a little while but came back. I take care of my mom. She’s got arthritis now, can’t open a can by herself. It’s not what I planned, but it’s what I got.”
I nodded, letting that paint a picture of his world. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
He shrugged. “She’s stubborn. Thinks pain is a contest you win by losing the most.”
“I remember her. She was always nice to me.”
“Probably saw the same thing I did.”
He said it casually, but his gaze lingered, searching my face for a reaction.
I blushed and smiled, giving him the reaction he had hoped for.
I let that echo in the space between us, unspeakably grateful for his gentleness. The fries cooled, and we ate them one by one.