Chapter Eleven #2
I watched her get off the couch, standing like she couldn’t bear to sit down when he was in the room.
“Hi, yes—I knew you could hear me, and I know my face is a tomato, ketchup? Depending on the level of redness, it could be a strawberry milkshake—those pinkish-red ones with the cute little ice cubes inside and the beautiful straw that comes with the cup. And I don’t know why I am talking about strawberry milkshakes or milkshakes at all because there is no milkshake here.
I tend to embarrass myself a lot…” Silence stretched until she added “Ha!” for good measure or a closing statement. I couldn’t tell.
Angelo blinked, flustered. “Hi, Gemma; a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry about barging in—”
“Oh no, no, no, nothing like that; Elio and I are buddies. We roll with the flow of friendship, and, uh … there’s nothing—you didn’t interrupt anything at all, we were just talking about friend things, you see.”
Angelo nodded. “Friends…” His gaze shifted to me. “Oh…” And then he looked back at Gemma. “He has mentioned you.”
I have?
“He has?”
“Yeah … a long time ago.” Then his gaze fell back to me. “This is Gemma, yeah, the one you got the phone for?”
Gemma’s lips fell open. “What? You bought your phone because of me?”
“You wanted me to text you,” I stated.
“Awww.” Gemma’s face softened. “That is so cute and sweet. I will forever treasure this information.”
I allowed a stretch of seconds to go by, unsure of what to say before I settled on “Okay.”
She beamed, looking back at Angelo. “Nice to meet you, too, Angelo; Elio has said so much about you, and Mimi, God, she’s such a doll.”
I watched a smile come onto Angelo’s lips. “Isn’t she? Is that yours?” He gestured to Sailor.
“Yup, she’s mine.” Gemma quickly picked her up with a grin as Angelo approached, dropping the bag he’d brought in front of me before collecting Gemma’s cat, cooing.
“Oh, she’s heavy and soft, wow.”
“She loves to be spoiled, and my nonna made it a habit to take extra good care of her.”
Mimi perked up from beside me before she started meowing loudly.
“Attention seeker one minute and a stranger the next,” Angelo said, handing Sailor to Gemma as he bent to pick up Mimi, kissing her head.
“Good. Now that we are done with meeting the cats and the people, can you explain to me why there are so many pill bottles?”
Angelo dropped his cat down again. “There are only four. Two of them are just the dosage you need to take before bed tonight; I’ll hold on to the rest until I get back.”
“Thank you,” I said, but then I frowned. “Where are you going again?”
“Oh, I heard there were some mountains not far off. I booked a boat from the cruise with some others who wanted to check it out, just sightseeing. Are you interested?”
“No. I’m expecting someone.”
He frowned. “Who?”
“My brother.”
His brows rose up. “Oh. That’s good.” He looked pleased. “That’s great,” he said, nodding the same way Gemma was nodding now.
“Yes, I suppose.”
“And I suppose she knows too?” He gestured to Gemma.
“Yes.”
Angelo nodded. “Just how close are you both again?”
“Met-the-grandma close,” Gemma supplied. “But like, not in a seek-her-hand-in-marriage kinda way … more in a friends kinda way.”
“That’s great.” Angelo looked at me, surprised but happy. “Glad you took my advice.”
I nodded. “Hm.”
“Oh, uh…” Gemma spoke up. “If you need company to check out the mountain, I’d love to go.”
Angelo smiled at her. “Of course, but we have to go now. We have just minutes to prepare.”
Gemma dropped Sailor with an enthusiastic nod. After Angelo took the rest of my pills with him and Gemma kissed my cheek goodbye, they left the apartment.
I was alone again, but it didn’t feel as distant as yesterday.
Pulling out my phone, I went to Zahra’s message space, seeing the failed message still alight.
I blinked, and a sound went off on my phone, a message from her popping up in the chat box.
Zahra:
Hey, what’s up?
Almost like my mind had called her into texting me. I responded.
Me:
Hello.
Her response came after a few seconds.
Zahra:
How are u feeling? Do u need anything?
I frowned. Confused.
Me:
Who is this?
Zahra:
Some random dude who kidnapped this phone’s owner and tied her up below deck because I have a nasty grudge to pick with her.
Me:
Okay. Good luck.
Zahra:
It’s me, u fucking asshole. Wtf?
Good luck?
Who the fuck says that?
The messages popped in three consecutive times, with no break.
Me:
Hello, Zahra.
I replied based on your earlier response. Regarding your question about how I am doing, yes, I am all right. Thank you for checking in, and no, I do not need anything.
I sent that and waited for her response, but nothing came afterward. I sat there in silence, waiting … waiting—I scrolled back to her first message and read them through, and then through my own responses.
Did I miss something? Should I add one of the yellow round faces? Was my response too formal? How do I make it informal? What—
Zahra:
Ok.
I frowned … tempted to ask who this was again. Instead, I typed out something else.
Me:
Where are you?
Her response took two minutes, thirty-nine seconds.
Zahra:
Room.
Me:
Have you returned from the casino?
This time it took longer, three minutes, forty-eight seconds.
Zahra:
Yh.
Guessing that was supposed to mean yes, I sent another response.
Me:
All right.
Are you occupied at the moment?
Six minutes, twenty seconds.
Zahra:
Yh.
I sighed, knowing I had probably said something wrong along the way. Then again, I wasn’t well versed in starting or maintaining conversations and did not know how to turn off formalities.
I also saw no reason to apologize for doing nothing wrong, so I reacted with a thumbs-up and left her chat box, getting the unspoken message that she didn’t want to talk to me.
Maybe she was indeed busy.
Or maybe I was making excuses. Perhaps I should go to Angelo for advice on what to say and what not to say. I needed to be more knowledgeable. This was new. This was fragile. This was another first I knew nothing about.
This is me overthinking it.
I released a breath, looking around the space slowly, my feet tapping the ground repeatedly, my fingers tapping my thigh, the quietness growing too loud, the emptiness swallowing me whole, my hearing becoming dull …
and suddenly, I was on my feet. I walked to the bar table, opened a cabinet, and removed a cigar box.
I placed a cigar between my lips, lit the end, and took a long drag, long enough that I could not drag in any more smoke.
I let the toxic cloud circulate through my system and—
Someone knocked, and I flinched in a startle, forgetting I wasn’t breathing.
On cue, I entered into a fit of coughing, dropping the cigar in the ashtray as I pounded my chest with my fist, coughing with a wheezy sound, barely registering the smoke escaping my nose and mouth. My vision blurred as I tried calming down, taming the cough, and taking proper breaths.
The knock came again.
I inhaled little by little, gasp after gasp. The coughs calmed. I blinked my vision clear, making my way toward the door, clearing my throat, and getting a bit of control of myself again.
I opened the door, and Elia stood there, looking up from his shoes and directly at me; his expression morphed into instant concern. “What is … why are your eyes red?”
“Cigar. Coughing,” I clarified, opening the door wider before turning and returning to the living room.
The sound of the door closing and his footsteps following me were what filled the silence.
“Want anything to drink? You can help yourself,” I said, settling on a single couch while he settled on another with Sailor.
“No, I’m good,” he said, his finger grazing his jaw as he looked around.
“I—”
“You should quit.”
I stopped short, frowning. “What?”
He raised his gaze. “Smoking. It’s getting to you. You should quit.”
I did not take my eyes off him as I said, “It helps me.”
“Killing you while it’s at it.”
I cleared my throat, uncomfortable. “You said you wanted to talk.”
He brought his palms together, intertwining his hands.
“Yeah, I do,” he answered. “Listen, I don’t wanna revisit the past and dredge up old wounds.
” He swallowed. “I know things have been rocky, and all our conversations have ended with me hitting and disrespecting you and saying shit that I don’t mean …
I’m sorry if my words hurt you; I was angry. ”
My brain picked apart his words.
“Was?” I stated in question. “Does this mean you’re not angry anymore?”
He pressed his lips together. “I don’t know,” he stated plainly. “But I know I don’t want to fight anymore.”
“You don’t want to know why I broke my promise?”
“It’s not going to change anything if I do.”
I tilted my head. “You don’t want to confirm if I am indeed responsible for the death of my mother and siblings?”
He paused, watching me with a battle in his eyes. “Are you?”
Silence stretched into minutes, and then I shrugged, leaning back. “Might not have started the fire, but it doesn’t mean I’m not to blame for it.”
“What does that mean?”
My eyes searched his. “When I let you go, Elia, I let everyone go. When I let you down, I also let everyone down. My mother, Mariana, Lorenzo,” I said, looking away from him.
“I let myself down. I lost my purpose; I lost a lot … but I had hope that I would come back and see them again. I would meet you again, apologize, and get on my knees if I had to. But then I got out, got back … and it was all ashes. Hours too late. Minutes too long, doing absolutely nothing while standing by my father’s side.
If I had done things differently, if I had stood up to my father, put a bullet in his head, and told him I didn’t need to join the army to keep my mind in check, maybe things would have been different.
“Days after they died I … I replayed possible scenarios on how things could have gone differently, how I could have kept them alive.” I looked back at him. “Kept you here. I have regretted my actions every day until now. I deserve to pay for the pain that I caused you, my mother, Mari, and Enzo.
“It feels wrong to be respected, loved, and praised, since I did nothing worthy of respect, especially by you. So, you do not have to apologize for that. I deserve it and worse.”
“No, it’s—”
“Let me finish,” I told him. “I am happy that you decided to talk to me and give me a chance. But I also want to let you know that it is completely okay if you do not want to give me a chance; you don’t have to.
If you are angry, be angry; if you feel like hitting me, do not hesitate.
Feel what you want to feel. Do not spare my feelings. ”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m trying to do,” he said.
“I meant it when I said I didn’t want to fight anymore, Elio.
I want—I know everything can’t automatically go back to how it used to be, but—we can try to fix what we can.
You’re my only family, and regardless of the past, I still worry and care about you. Just the same way you do for me.”
“Hm.” I nodded. “And if I’m not mentally available at all times?”
“You don’t have to be. I’m a grown-up; I have my own shit to deal with now. I just want to clear the air.”
I nodded. “And Zahra? Am I to assume you have no concerns with our … recent relationship?”
His mouth opened and closed, and his hand moved to his neck as he spoke. “It is weird, I’m not gonna lie, but—I see it. You care about her, and she surprisingly cares about you. As long as you’re both in check with each other, then it’s none of my business.”
“Hm.” I nodded again. “You harbor no feelings for her? If you do, please tell me.”
“I love Zahra; she’s my best friend, always has been, but—things aren’t like that. I thought they were at some point until I realized that wasn’t the kind of love that you share with someone you want to be with.”
He was picking his words, but I didn’t have a right to call him out on it.
“This was good; I appreciate you making the effort, Elia.”
“Zahra says I need bragging rights. Had to snag it,” he said, looking around. “Do you just stay here? Only you? Doing nothing?”
“Yes.”
He looked at me. “Wanna come over to our suite? Upper and Dog are setting up a game in the lounge, and Milk ordered too much food.”
“And Zahra?”
“Uh … in her room? She went in after going to the casino and never came out; I don’t know about now … Why?”
“Nothing.”
Elia prepared to get up. “Would you like to join?” he asked, sounding hopeful. “Or if you have work and things to do, I understand—”
“I will join you.”
He couldn’t mask the surprise on his face. “All right,” he said.
“The cats.”
His gaze dropped to them. “We can take them if you want. Milk loves them, so she’ll be glad.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Honestly, I agreed to this for three reasons.
One was because Elia asked, and after our conversation, I needed to cement my decision with this; number two was because the idea of staying here alone wasn’t appealing, I knew I would start seeing and hearing things, thanks to paranoia; and number three—three was because of Zahra.
Either I had offended her through my texts, or something else had happened.
If something else had happened, then I wanted to know. I hated texting, hated the fact that I couldn’t see her face to know what changed, why it changed, how it changed, when it changed.
I needed to see her. The need was like a thirst on my tongue that I had to sate. I needed this. It. Her.
She took the quietness and my urges away. She was my new habit.
Unhealthy, I know.
But then again, I have never been one to cut off unhealthy habits; why would I start now?