5. Levi
LEVI
SIX MONTHS LATER
Aknock pries my sluggish mind from the TV screen. I’m watching one of my favorite movies for the hundredth time—Star Wars: Return of the Jedi.
Movies are my only reprieve from crippling anxiety, insomnia, and depression.
Hitting pause, I manage to croak, “Come in.”
The bedroom door opens, but only saddened silence follows. Shifting to look at my doorway, I find Astor standing in the frame, wearing a frown. “You missed class again.”
I stare blankly at him. Numb. “Yeah.”
Frown deepening, he strides in and takes a seat at my desk chair, propping his face in his hand to quietly study me.
As always, there’s no judgment. Only compassion. The kind reserved for children that only a parent can possess. Which is exactly what Astor has become in these last six months. Why he bothers, I’m not sure.
I draw in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time, your energy, and your money.
Eternally patient, Astor merely gives a subtle shake of his head. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”
But you do. “I imagine you’re regretting this bargain you made and that I won’t be able to fulfill my end of it. I can leave if you want.”
Our bargain was that he would support me financially and whatever else I needed, so long as I stayed out of trouble, focused on school, and, incidentally, did everything my father always hoped—to become an upstanding citizen.
To be safe.
And happy.
I doubt I’ll ever be either of those things.
Much less capable of completing multiple degrees in physics, so that I could pursue a career in all the glorious microcosmic and macrocosmic things that once inspired childlike wonder in me...
Or at least be able to put a roof over my head and food in my mouth without having to rely on Astor’s generosity for the rest of my life.
Again, I feel my parents’ disappointment towards me and my decisions all the way from Heaven.
Or, more likely, Hell.
I can’t help but wonder how many people are out there who are like me because my father and his men killed their parents.
And my mother knew...
Never spoke a word of protest, if the harmony between them was anything to go by.
“I shouldn’t have encouraged you to start school so soon after. That’s my fault. Not yours. I apologize.”
Unbelievable.
How is this man so patient?
Part of me wishes he would just shoot me and be done with it. Put us both out of this misery.
We stare at one another for a while. I’m the first to break the silence.
“As grateful as I am, I don’t understand why you still bother.”
Astor’s expression turns grim.
“I know what it’s like to be broken, Levi... And maybe by giving you what I wish I had at your age, I’m also healing a part of myself.”
I should feel something.
Anything.
Instead, I’ve buried the unacknowledged pain so deep inside me that, if it weren’t for the occasional distant muffled roar of rage, heartbreak, and disappointment echoing from the fucking coffin I’ve buried it in—or this fog of apathy clouding every moment of every day when I’m not having a panic attack—I might not even notice that it was there.
Even so, I recognize that it’s only a matter of time before it unearths itself from the tomb I’ve trapped it in.
And if I wasn’t so apathetic, I’d be terrified of what will happen when it does.
“I’d like to take you to my therapist—or any therapist.”
That would mean opening said tomb. So, just like the previous hundred times he’s mentioned it, I sidestep the request entirely.
“You should let me work for you again.”
Astor’s expression remains calm. He scratches at his beard.
“My answer won’t change, Levi. It remains, and will always remain no. We made an agreement.”
Frustration—one of the few emotions I have left—is a tight fist in my chest. Even though I know he only has my best interests at heart.
“One that I’ve broken, so you have nothing holding you to it.”
His expression remains placid. “Tell me why you’re so determined to work with me.”
I don’t dare speak aloud every justification I have.
That I’m angry.
That my pent-up rage needs an outlet.
That the part of me who once sat in awe of the world—and all that potentially lies beyond it—is dead.
What has risen in its place is a worrisome hunger for violence. And I want—need—Astor to give me the opportunity to set it free so that I can forge a trail of blood all the way to Boston and back, ridding the world of not only those who killed my father, but all those like them.
And while I don’t utter a single word of this, Astor’s bright silver gaze seems to recognize it all the same.
“There is no amount of violence that will heal that wound, Levi.”
Emotion rises like a tidal wave—swift, merciless, and all-consuming—as his words settle in the silence surrounding us.
My burning eyes eventually slide to the sliver of ocean peeking out from behind the floor-to-ceiling drapes.
Astor has no idea just how deep the wound runs or why, and he hasn’t pried. Thankfully.
After my mother’s suicide, he didn’t ask too many questions; he simply opened his home and his life to me.
Moved me into his palatial Spanish-style villa in Biscayne Bay.
It makes the nice, upper-middle-class Boston home I grew up in look like a slum by comparison.
And I can’t help but wonder just how far Astor’s reach spreads.
I know he has connections to organized crime overseas, so it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to think he might have distant connections to my father’s killers.
I have no other way of finding them short of snooping around Boston and getting myself killed. Perhaps Astor will even help me seek out my revenge.
That idea alone momentarily appeases the ravenous tide inside me.
Astor’s words drag my thoughts back to the present. “There’s a friend of mine I could introduce you to.”
Tension and hesitation line his features, even as a flicker of hope softens mine. “I fear I’m going to regret this, but whatever comes of it has to be better than...”
Astor gestures vaguely at my slovenly appearance. Unshaved, greasy hair, dark circles under my eyes, too skinny.
“... this.”
I probably look like someone in desperate need of rehab, even though I’ve never touched any drugs or alcohol—if only because it reminds me too much of my mother.
I’m not offended by his words. It’s only the truth, and as always, they’re spoken with compassion.
At my silence, Astor heaves a sigh, stretching his long legs and lacing his fingers together behind his head.
Moments pass, and I’m holding my breath before he finally speaks.
“He works at the Department of Defence, but before that, he was a Detachment Commander for Special Forces...”
What the fuck?
“... You want me to join the military?”
Astor’s gaze drifts to the ceiling for a long moment before returning to mine.
“No. I don’t want you to join the military.
What I want is for you to let me help you crawl out of this malaise you’re in.
What I want is for you to finish your degrees so you can study the laws of the universe and build a time travel machine or some shit—whatever the fuck you feel called to do—and never have to resort to shit that could get you killed or put you in prison. ”
“Like you?”
Astor’s expression hardens. “Yes, Levi, exactly like me.”
My throat dips as, not rage, but grief swells in my chest. Astor looks nothing like my father, but he sure as fuck sounds like him.
My reply is a hoarse grumble.
“Wouldn’t joining the military be just as dangerous?”
“That entirely depends on your career path. At the very least, it wouldn’t land you in prison if you truly developed a taste for the blood you crave. And with their training and resources, you’d also be a lot less likely to get killed doing it.”
Joining the military hadn’t even crossed my mind, but now that Astor’s planted the seed, I have a feeling there’ll be no uprooting it.
The tiniest flicker of hope sparks in my chest, even if the whole witness protection thing will surely complicate things… but it’s been years. Perhaps Astor’s friend would even be able to pull some strings.
And in some years’ time, with military resources at my disposal, I might not even need Astor’s help in finding who killed my father.
Something tugs at the corners of my mouth as my mind whirls with possibilities.
“Oh my god, it’s a fucking miracle...”
The corners of my mouth drop as my eyes dart back to Astor, whose face is split in a broad grin. “What?”
“You just smiled.”
Did I?
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did. Your lips twitched and then lifted at both corners. You almost had a dreamy look on your face.”
If he’s right, there’s a frown now replacing it. Astor’s expression softens as he watches in that omniscient way of his for a moment before rising from my computer chair, striding over to me, and firmly gripping my shoulder in his hand.
“It’s okay to find happiness even though they’re not here, Levi.”
Whatever fleeting hope or joy I just had is immediately drowned by grief as it comes crashing back in. Tears burn my eyes further still as Astor lingers.
The softly spoken question holds no trace of derision. It’s earnest and desperate.
“How would you know?”
“Because none of this is your fault.”
Tears I can no longer hold back finally begin to spill as my mother’s plea returns to the forefront of my mind.
I can’t risk losing you, too...
My voice wavers as I meet Astor’s compassionate gaze.
“What if it is, though?”
“Then it’s your responsibility to forgive yourself so that you’re capable of doing everything you can to make it up to them.”
The pain in Astor’s expression tells me he’s speaking from personal experience. A part of his past that’s buried deep, never to be exhumed. It’s the ever-present darkness peeking out from behind his eyes, reminding us both that no matter how distant the memories and the scars, they never leave.
At least the military might give me the direction and violent purpose I need.