Page 57 of In Love with the Devil

I clear my throat, pick up the coffee cup, and realize my hands are shaking. He notices it too. After I take a gulp, I answer, “It’s complicated. And… a long story.” I fake a chuckle. “It’s always a long story, isn’t it?”

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not used to taking shit from the people around me in exchange for their affection.”

His words steal all my appetite. I slowly place my cup back on the table. Our gazes lock. Does he realize this is what I’m doing with him? Did he say that on purpose to hurt me? After I take a few forced bites of the omelet, he insists, “Tell me.”

I shrug. “Why do you even care–”

“Tell me.”

I stay quiet and stare straight ahead of me at the old white farm-styled kitchen cabinets.Julian can tell when I'm lying, especially when I'm nervous.

Julian sighs. “Okay… What did he do?”

“Who?”

“Your father.”

He knows… I can’t look at him. “It’s not… It’s not what he did. It’s… whatIdid.”

“What happened?” The rage in every one of his syllables freezes me with panic. I swallow deep.

Even though I hate this man with every cell in my body, I don't want to bear his judgement. Why do I care what he may think? I close my eyes, trying to figure out how I can avoid this subject but I'm no longer thinking straight. “What’s your favorite number between zero and ten?”

“Astoria, I asked you a question.” His voice is stern, on the verge of losing the little patience he always carries.

“I know. Just… humor me.”

“One.”

I nod and turn my gaze away from him to the marble pattern on the counter. “That makes sense. One is a loner but also a winner. It’s so competitive that it’s always there first. It always does what it wants. At first, the number two looks like nothing special, second place, first loser, but it’s the first number after one that’s even and it has so much potential. No matter what it’s multiplied by, it always produces an even number. Even when it’s multiplied by zero, it’s still an even number, all the way to infinity. It’s unbreakable, never alone."

"I fail to see how that answers my question."

I'm rambling because it hurts too much. I've never even allow myself to think about it. While shaking my head, I take a peek at him. His gaze is too stern so I shift mine to the counter again.

"No one ever likes three. Everybody forgets one is the first odd number and blames the unevenness on three. No one likes odd numbers but I think they’re very special. Odd numbers meansomething was lost or gained, which implies change. Not only is three an odd number, but it’s also prime, nothing whole to give when divided.”

The pressure in my chest increases until it becomes so painful that I have to massage it with my hand. My throat closes, making it impossible to speak. I raise my eyes to meet his gaze. His eyebrows are scrounged up by my confusing rambling.He probably thinks I’ve lost my mind, but what did he expect; for me to be sane after all he's done to me? Truth is, I can’t blame my obsession with numbers on the darkness downstairs, they’ve always been there for me.

“I’m really trying to give you a good morning, Astoria.”

I sigh, squeeze my eyes, and tighten my hold on the cup 'til my fingers whiten. He doesn't know how painful this memory is to me, so painful that I can only explain it with numbers.

“We were three, and I was never happy again after we divided. After… if you looked at us from afar, it appeared we were two, but we weren’t. It was a lie. We were never two. We were really one and a fraction at best. She was one, always doing whatever she wanted, and I was a fraction. I was a part of her with minimal value… actually, I was nothing… to her. Less than zero because I only caused problems, I never solved any. No matter how much I tried. She was my everything…” I chuckle, wishing I could take this pain. “What else is a mother supposed to be, right?”

Julian’s expression is deadly serious."You were a kid. You weren't supposed to be solving anything."

It's the first time anyone has relieved me of the massive responsibility she put on my shoulders. It's true. I wouldn't ask a five year old to figure out where we are going to live after a divorce or how we'll pay the bills. A warm relief spreads through every cell of my mind as if he's freed me. My gaze meets his and then the pain boomerangs back. Why did she do that to me? The betrayal… I'm looking into my memory, at the little girl I used to be and wanting to apologize to her for believing it was my responsibility to solve every problem. Julian, my rapist, my kidnapper, my torturer has more empathy for that little girl than her own mother ever did. It's repulsive.

“She was even more of my everything when he left. I... never have a choice. As awful and disgusting as what happened was… I can’t help always hiding in the memories of when he was nice to me. He’s the only reason I have a clue what it’s like to be loved, but I don’t know if his love was ever real.” My voice breaks. “I can't talk about this.”

“What did he do to you?”

“Wait. You haven’t asked me which is my favorite number between zero and ten.” I fake a smile at Julian.

He sighs. The annoyance is blatant. “What’s your favorite number, Astoria?”

A nervous chuckle erupts out of me. “All of them.” I can’t stop the giggling. “Because they all have happy and sad stories. Even or odd, they’re at least whole. Did you know it took a long time for humans to come up with the concept of zero? Surprising isn’t it? But at the same time... it makes sense, because zero can toooften mean nothing or no. Which… isn’t a lot of people’s favorite word.” Julian knows I’m talking about him and everything he’s done to me.

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