Eleven Truth
Sienna
I’ve made a lot of guesses about what Osiris did to end up in prison. I knew his charge was voluntary manslaughter which isn’t as severe as premeditated murder, but it still meant he killed someone. Curiosity encouraged me to Google the story a thousand times, yet I always convinced myself not to because news stories — especially about killers — are always so biased. And now, hearing him tell me what really happened, I don’t see a twenty-four year old hardened criminal. I see a scared little boy who was forced to take drastic measures to protect himself and his mom.
My heart breaks in ways I didn’t know it could. He should’ve been playing basketball with his friends and getting grounded for missing curfew, not hiding at a neighbor’s house to escape the violence of people who should’ve never been parents in the first place. “Si,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he replies, smiling over at me with the first smile that doesn’t reach his eyes at all. I think I hate it. “Anyway, I guess mom didn’t want to be saved, so... that’s why she’s no longer in my life.”
Jesus Christ. He threw his childhood away — his whole life, really — to protect her and she disowned him? Exhaling hard, I try to keep my own emotions in check as I reach out for him and pull him into a tight hug. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you all this time.”
The way he melts into my hold makes me feel like he hasn’t had a hug in a very long time... maybe even ever. His arms are so fucking strong as they tighten around me. “Can you stay here for just a few minutes longer? You smell good.”
“Of course.” I don’t get a lot of hugs, either — but that’s by design. Normally they make me squirrelly and uncomfortable, but something about the way he squeezes feels good. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He releases a calming breath, staying there a few moments longer so I can truly take in his scent, and something about it has my fingers curling into his shirt. When he finally pulls away I can tell he feels better, and I realize I actually do too. “You want to look up the news article now that you know my side?”
“Not really,” I admit. “Unless you want me to. I just can’t believe it would say anything that makes a difference at this point.”
Nodding, he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’d say that a father was stabbed in the neck by his own son. Doesn’t say anything about that son’s previous abuse, or the bruises that father left behind on his wife. News is funny that way, but they’re just a business.” He shrugs. “I pled guilty so I never had to go to court, but sometimes I wonder how it would have gone if I did.”
Probably a lot differently, but there’s no use telling him that. He was just a kid who made the best decision he could at the time without adequate parental guidance. “So I’ll never look,” I promise. “I think what you did was brave and I won’t have anyone trying to tell me otherwise.”
I watch him take another sip of his wine, and wonder if that scar on his head happened that sad night or another one. “Thank you. For everything really. I was honestly scared to get out of prison, and you helped me feel better about it.”
Not fucking intentionally, but that’s not helpful now either. And maybe if I’d have known the details before tonight, I’d have done a little more to encourage him. “You didn’t deserve to be there.”
“I don’t think I did either, but it’s all over now. You want to help me experience this little thing called life? You can share all your wisdom about things like which pizza joint is the best these days and which hair dye works to help pretend you aren’t a silver fox.”
The grin that takes over his face only makes my jaw drop a little further. “Silver what now?” I repeat. “I know you didn’t just call me a silver fucking fox.”
“Is that bad?” He tilts his head at me like he’s confused, but I can see the amusement all over his face. “Foxes are cute.”
Hmph. That might be the best response he could’ve given me, but I still resent the implication. “I’m not that old.”
“I know. But I’m taller, and I can see a grey hair right —” He reaches over to poke at my scalp, but I slap his hand away before he can touch it. “I’m kidding, Sienna. Your hair is perfect.”
There’s a reason I keep it so blonde, and it’s not because I think we have more fun. “You’re funny,” I deadpan. “So, so funny.”
“Thank you.” He does a stupid little bow. “So what would you be doing if I didn’t appear here today, and you weren’t day drinking with your second best friend?”
“Sleeping, probably. I have to work in the morning and usually I’d be prepared to wake up early to catch your call. I guess that’s not super necessary now, is it?” I laugh. “Maybe I am that old.”
He glances over at my bedroom, and then back at me. “Are you tired?”
Well, I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning once or twice, but I have a feeling I could crash either way. “Wine always makes me sleepy. Are you tired?”
“Honestly, yeah. I couldn’t sleep on the bus ride here. Let’s clean all this up and get some sleep.”
He shoves another wonton into his mouth before we get it all boxed up, and the entire fucking thing feels like a fever dream. Part of me still thinks I’m gonna wake up in the morning and learn this was all some messed up dream, but as I watch him stare at my bed and multiple pillows like he’s afraid he’s gonna sully them, I realize this can’t be a dream.
He’d be more comfortable here if it was.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
“Yeah, I’m good.” He meets my eyes. “Are you? I know you don’t like to share.”
“I’m good. I think. Probably.” Grimacing a little, I try again. “Yes. You’re welcome here, Si. I’m just an old lady who doesn’t adjust well to change.”
“That’s okay. We’ll adjust together, but I have to ask... do you really use this many pillows?”
“Yes.” Blushing, I point to the two on my side. “Those go under my head, the one on your side usually gets held like a person and the one laying down the middle goes between my legs. The others are spares for when I lose one in the middle of the night.”
I notice the way his eyes slowly drop down my frame like he can’t even help himself. “That makes sense. I just need one, so I’ll take whichever one usually goes between your legs.”
He grins cheekily, snatching the light grey one from the middle of the bed. How fucking long has it been since I’ve washed that pillow case?
Whatever, I didn’t technically invite him so therefore it’s not my fault. “You can take as many as you want. I’ll be fine with just two.”
I watch him pull the comforter down and climb inside, then bite my lip when he pats the mattress for me to join him. “Come on, wifey. I won’t bite.”
And what if I want him to?
With my breath caught in my throat, I grab some pajamas from my dresser and tell him I’ll be right back.
I take my sweet time changing in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face. Nerves twist in my gut until I’m afraid I might actually throw up, and it’s then I decide to just suck it up and act like a normal human.
He’s still awake when I climb in bed, looking way too fucking relaxed, but I get to breathe a little when he disappears into the bathroom after me. I can hear everything he does in there, including the groan he releases as he pees with the door wide open. I should tell him to close it when he’s in there, yet after he brushes his teeth and returns to me I can’t bring myself to say the words because he’s now shirtless. “Goodnight, beautiful. Let me know if you dream of me.”
If I sleep at all, sure. Smiling lightly, I reach over to turn the lamp off as my heart rate kicks up.
I’m in bed with a criminal.
Totally, completely normal.
Yep.