Page 43 of Run

Fourteen

Giovanna

I had been standingin the living room that the man Sergei had led me into for five minutes, maybe longer.

Those minutes felt like an eternity.

When I’d entered the room, I had been drawn to the pictures on the wall. Pictures of me, Daniela, our mother. And in a far corner, behind another picture, hidden so that it almost couldn’t be seen, one of the four of us together. It was the only picture of my father, and seeing it started tears anew.

That picture had been one of those rare good days, a day when Santo’s weight wasn’t quite so oppressive. It had been a fleeting moment in time, one that would never be recreated. One that never could be. My father was gone, so was my mother. And the gaping distance between my sister and me was one I didn’t know if we’d ever be able to cross again.

The tears fell a little faster, a little harder, as I realized how utterly alone I was. I’d turned away from my family, turned away from Vincent. Now I’d have to live with it.

I brushed the tears away and turned, desperate for something else to look at. The place was beautiful, just as I always knew Daniela’s would be. That realization gave me some solace, a small thing that hadn’t changed, something I could hold onto as I floated adrift in this world that I no longer understood, that maybe I’d never understood at all.

“Hurry up,” I whispered toward the closed door.

I didn’t have anywhere to go, but I needed to get this over with. Or at the very least needed to see her just to kill some of that pressure that was building moment after moment. I hated the feeling. Hated being alienated from Daniela. For our entire childhood and into adulthood, she’d been my protector. I had never admitted it. In fact, I’d gone out of my way to make it known that I didn’t need her protection.

I’d tried even harder to make her see that she didn’t need to prove herself, that she was worthy of our mother’s love. She’d ignored me.

That was the story of Daniela and me, opposites, each convinced that our paths were the right one. So we’d clashed, sometimes fiercely, but our bond was rock-solid.

Had been, at least, until I’d left without saying good-bye.

Vincent was never far from my thoughts, but Daniela hadn’t been either. I missed my sister, felt guilty about the way I’d left. Now, I would again have to confront what I’d done.

I didn’t know how she would react to seeing me, how I would react to her reaction, and the tension was unbearable. As were the memories of the past. I had spent so much time running from this place, from these people, and being here in this house, unfamiliar as it might have been, remembering all those times, good and bad, all the things I had missed, the ways I had failed those I loved, was too much.

Then, finally, when I thought I could bear it no longer, the door opened.

I closed my eyes, but then opened them as Daniela walked in. I always thought of Daniela as the beautiful version of me, and the years apart had done nothing to change that perception. Even now, at nearly midnight, she was flawlessly put together. A feat I had never managed to pull off, even with all of my mother’s kind and relentless assistance.

The bitter stab of envy was fierce, but then receded. We weren’t children anymore, and I couldn’t let myself be caught in those childish feelings of the past.

Instead I looked at my sister, watched her eyes as she got closer to me. She was unreadable, yet another skill I had never been able to master quite as well as she had, and as she approached, my heart started to pound harder.

Would she slap me, scream at me, rage against me for leaving her without a word?

I didn’t know.

I deserved her worst, but I didn’t know if I could stand it.

She stopped in front of me, looked into my eyes for one moment, another, and then she did the one thing I had never even considered.

Her arms were around me in an instant, pulling me as close to her as her rounded stomach would allow.

She held me tight, almost crushing, with a fierceness and love that I had not felt, outside of my time with Vincent, since I had left this place.

It broke me.

My arms had been hanging limp at my side, but I lifted them and held her back, held her as tight as I dared.

Then, I let the tears fall.

I don’t know how long we stood that way, but by the time we broke apart, my eyes were puffy and swollen, and Daniela’s shirt was wet with my tears just as mine was wet with hers.

She looked at me, and then gave me a tentative smile.

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