Chapter 8
CARLO
A muffled sob wakes me in the middle of the night through the thin walls.
It almost makes me shoot out of bed, but I’m held in place by something warm and furry.
Morticia is on my legs. I can tell it’s her because she has more white to her markings.
Gomez also has a white muzzle with a slash of black in the middle on each side to make it look like he actually has the Gomez mustache, which is part of how he got his name according to Tania.
Tish grumbles as I carefully pick her up off me and place her next to me on the bed so I can get up.
Throwing on shorts over my boxer briefs, I pad out of the room and stop in front of Tania’s door.
Whimpers are coming from her room, and they don’t sound like whimpers of pleasure.
At least not hers. Those very different whimpers came through the wall two nights ago after she openly gawked at me and confessed that she liked me.
I hadn’t played quite fair maybe, but knowing there is hope with her means all bets are off.
I am determined to win her trust and get to a place where we can date.
I heard her that night, as quiet as she tried to be about it.
It also wasn’t a huge secret since she kicked the cats out and fully shut her door for once.
I’m sure she heard my groans during my second shower of the evening after I walked away from her.
Surprisingly, things haven’t been awkward at all since then.
We came to an understanding on where we stood with each other, both got the tension out of our systems as best we could, and it was freeing instead of making things weird.
We were almost playful in the morning, more at ease without the things we’d left unsaid and tension between us.
That night, she made the most incredible garlic shrimp with flavorful rice for dinner that she said was a specialty of both her grandma and her parents.
We had the best time sitting and eating together while talking about our days.
She claims she’s not a great cook, but I would happily eat that dish at least twice a week for the rest of my life.
Tonight she was back at the tattoo shop, so she didn’t get in until slightly late.
It made me realize how much I miss her when she’s not around now.
I nudge the slightly ajar door more open, and can make out her shadow in the sliver of moonlight creeping in from the crack in the drawn curtains.
As my eyes adjust, I can see more clearly that she’s sleeping, but thrashing a little as she cries.
It takes me a moment in my sleepy haze to realize she’s having a nightmare.
She says, “mom,” in such a broken, aching whisper that I feel my heart crack.
Gomez is above her head on her pillow, trying to catch her hair as she moves around.
The blankets are a mess around her legs, and she’s in a little sleep set that has me making a superhuman effort to keep my eyes on her face instead of the miles of luminous skin in front of me.
I go to the side of her bed and perch there, smoothing her hair in an effort to soothe her as Gomez comes over to headbutt me.
He steps on her chest as he does, and I see her wake up.
A few tears run down her cheeks, and she’s breathing hard.
I continue to stroke her hair while she gets her bearings.
Her beautiful eyes blink rapidly as they bring me into focus, and then she averts them to pick at a thread in the covers.
“I’m so sorry, did I wake you?” Her voice is throttled and tight
“I’m a very light sleeper, don’t worry about it.
” While my one hand stays on her hair, my other comes to her face, wiping the tears from her eyes with my thumb.
A sheen of sweat dots her forehead and cheeks as she untangles herself from her blankets to sit up.
My hands fall away, not knowing whether she wants me to keep touching her.
Every instinct in me hates not holding her right now. She grimaces like she’s embarrassed.
“Thanks for checking on me. I’ll be ok, I just have nightmares sometimes. I’m really sorry again for waking you up.”
“It might help to talk about it. I’m happy to listen.”
“You really don’t want to hear about my nightmares. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Go back to bed, you need sleep,” she insists.
“Not going to be able to sleep if you don’t tell me what your nightmare was about.
We said we’re going to open up to each other and get to know one another, right?
” She searches my face as if she’s assessing whether I genuinely want to hear about whatever this pain in her is, but then huffs out a breath that I interpret as agreement.
“We did say that, I just didn’t think we’d be diving into the deep end like this tonight.
” She seems to gather herself before she begins.
“I have nightmares about my parents sometimes. They died in a car crash when I was 5. We were hit by a drunk driver on our way home from a friend’s pool party. ” I feel the blood drain from my face.
“You were in the car when it happened?”
“We all had our seatbelts on, being in the backseat booster helped save me I guess. I had a nasty gash on my forehead, a broken arm, and plenty of bruising. My dad died on the scene since he took the brunt of the impact. My mom passed from her injuries a couple of days later.” Tears are in her eyes again, she’s trembling, and her voice is small.
I can’t help it anymore, I move closer and wrap my arms around her.
“My nightmare tonight was my grandma telling me my mom had passed and that I’d be coming to live with her.
Everything that happened and changed that week was a lot for a 5 year old, so it’s always stayed with me.
There’s a big side of survivor’s guilt, too.
” She shudders as I hold her tighter, and she buries her head into my chest.
“I’m so sorry, Tania. It’s a weak excuse of a response for what you’ve been through, but stronger words are failing me right now,” I murmur into her hair. A shuddering breath wracks her as she goes on, the words now coming out of her like she can’t stop them.
“I shouldn’t have gone to the party, I begged them to go.
I was whining when the accident happened.
I had chocolate cake at the party but I wanted ice cream.
We passed our usual place on our way home and I whined that I wanted it.
That was the last thing I said to my parents, Carlo.
The last thing they heard from me. I keep playing it over and over, there’s no forgetting how selfish I was.
Maybe if I wasn’t whining my dad would have seen the other car sooner.
I’ll never be able to make that right.” She’s really trying to fight the tears but her chest is heaving and her voice is so shattered that I’m shattering right with her.
I raise her chin to look at her right in her eyes.
“Tania, you were 5. That’s what 5 year olds do, they go to birthday parties and beg for ice cream. Nothing about what happened was your fault, you hear me?” Her eyes bore into mine, and as we stare at each other, her breathing eases. She slumps a little and nods.
“Rationally I know that. These nightmares make me keep thinking that I did something to cause it. All of my survivor’s guilt is manifested in them and they’re inescapable.” She shudders and snuggles more against me.
I pause, trying to figure out how to phrase my next question delicately.
“Have you ever talked to anyone about how you feel? Like therapy or anything?” She nods against my chest.
“My grandma got me a grief counselor when it happened, and it helped. Then I had counselors when I went into the foster system, but they were more focused on how I was doing with the family rather than my grief. Clearly I should look into therapy once my finances are more stable if I keep having these nightmares.”
My brain stutters at her mentioning going into foster care. “Wait, what happened with your grandma? Why did you go into the foster system?” She shifts in my arms, like all of this divulging is hard for her, but she wants to press on.
“I was with her for three years. She got dementia, and by the time I was 8 she was in no shape to take care of me. She’d forget we need to eat, or shower, or she’d forget to pick me up from school or even who I was.
Teachers at school were worried, so they had CPS look into things and realized the situation.
There was no one else, so I was put into the system.
She passed away when I was 10.” Jesus, how much has this woman been through?
“You’ve been through hell, Tania, and you’re still standing and living a good life. Do you know how strong you are? You have to easily be one of the strongest, most amazing people I know. I hope the drunk driver that caused all of this pain was put away for life.”
“He died in the crash, too. Call me a bitch, but he deserved worse. I wish he had lived with what he did and thought about it every second of every day,” she mumbles bitterly.
“That’s not being a bitch, that’s wanting proper justice.
He upended your entire existence because of his awful choices.
I’d feel the exact same way,” I tell her emphatically.
I wish I could bring him back from the dead and get Tania that justice.
She nods as I’m having that morbid thought and nuzzles further into me, like she’s trying to hide from the truths she’s letting out tonight.
“Enough about me, I’m tired of myself. I can’t believe I just trauma dumped like that.
Tell me about your family, I know you have your parents and your sisters.
Your mom is so warm and sweet. I want to hear about a happy, loving family right now, please.
” I squeeze her in understanding and drop an all too natural kiss to the top of her head.