Page 30 of My Merciless Don

Another day you can't go to sleep because of the rage that grips you. You want to smash something, kill somebody, to get all that burning anger out of you. You're constantly asking an absent God Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

There's never a satisfactory answer.

Today, as I approached Amy's grave, I wasn't sure what I was feeling. Acceptance? Perhaps.

I came to a stop, reading her headstone once again.

Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted.

It was a quote by John Lennon and Amy used to love to repeat it to me. Every time I would be like, “Babe, I gotta work.” She would just give me a dose of those puppy dog eyes and I would end up doing whatever it was she wanted to do instead.

I never regretted it. Not once.

I pointed to her portrait, embedded in her gravestone. “That's Amy,” I said quietly.

Audry stepped forward and went down on her knees, staring at the photo as if she'd seen a ghost. I couldn't blame her. The resemblance was uncanny.

“Has this been modified in any way?” She asked.

“No. That's exactly how she looked.”

I put a hand on Audry’s shoulder and squeezed, knowing what she was going through. “Are you sure you're not related?”

She looked up at me incredulously, “I have no fucking clue. I grew up in an orphanage before James adopted me.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. Maybe she was a relative.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you even know what you're saying?”

“Yeah, I do. Would you like to propose an alternative explanation,” I gestured to the picture, “for the resemblance?”

She looked away sharply, swallowing audibly. I knew she must be struggling, and something in me just wanted to ease that. I found myself talking, without having decided to do so.

“Amy loved music. She was always humming. She'd wake up earlier than me and go to the kitchen to make me breakfast, and coffee because I couldn't function without it, but the accompaniment was always a surprise. She might do strawberry pancakes, or French toast. Sometimes she drove over to the bakery to buy muffins or donuts. Whatever it was, she always made sure it was something I liked. So, I'd wake up and there'd be coffee steaming in a cup, on the bedside table, with something delicious to eat beside it.” I sighed gripped by painful nostalgia. “She was the best.”

She blinked at me in surprise, “You really loved her.” she said wonderingly.

I furrowed my brow at her. “Of course I did. I wanted to marry her. Why does that surprise you so much?”

She shrugged self-deprecatingly, “I don't know. I guess I haven't met a man in your situation who genuinely loved their partner. Or anyone really.”

My lips twisted. “So you're saying that Martin doesn't love you?”

She looked away and shrugged, “I don't know, maybe he does. But it's not something he shows.”

“So, you're actually bemused that I show that I loved Amy?”

She grimaced, “Something like that. Don't mind me. Tell me more about her. What did she like? What did she dislike? Did you ever fight?”

I chuckled bitterly, and yet - quite glad to have a reason to reminisce. “Oh yeah, we fought. I remember one memorable occasion early in our relationship, when we went to this club and there was a girl there hitting on me. That was pretty normal for me so I just ignored it. But Amy,” I shook my head, “Amy got really mad about it. She walked out of the club without her coat in the rain and flagged down a taxi. Of course I ran after her, tried to take her home. No dice. She pushed me away got in the taxi and drove off. I followed her just to make sure she got home safely. Then I drove home completely in the dark, not knowing what the problem was. But I texted her that I was sorry anyway cause that's what Valerio said to do.”

Audry gave an amused chuckle. “Did she answer you?”

I huffed in amusement. “She asked me what I was sorry for. Of course I couldn't answer.”

Audry barked with laughter, “Oh, I like this girl.”

“Yeah, she was soft spoken as fuck, but she did not take shit. Anyway, the next day I went to her house armed with coffee and donuts from the specialty place she liked and asked her to tell me what I had done wrong. She took pity on me and told me that she didn't enjoy watching me flirt, while we were supposed to be on a date. Meanwhile I couldn't even remember who the fuck she was talking about. But I promised to be more circumspect in the future, and that when we went out it would just be the two of us. She agreed to give me one more chance.”

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