Page 65 of Desolation

I nod. “With all the violence that happened on the west side of Chicago and all the trouble that my cousins got into with the law, I never once questioned anything. I just thought that everyone respected my Dad because he ran one of the busiest bodegas in the neighborhood. He helped others out when they were strapped for cash. He was a good man. I looked up to him. I hated that mom and him always fought. I didn’t know what it was about and I didn’t care to.

“When I was fifteen, my cousin Nessa was raped. Things changed after that. The violence in my neighborhood got worse. My dad was rarely home. My mom would cry all the time and I thought it was because he wasn’t around. But whenever he was there, the fighting was even worse. I started picking up on things I always blocked out.

“One night when the violence was at its peak, wars in the street, I crawled into bed with Nessa who was staying with us. I asked her about my dad and she confirmed all the fears I had. My dad was the head of a gang and the man who assaulted Nessa was in a rival gang. The violence went on forever. But when I was sixteen my dad got arrested for murder and all the secrets came out.

“I always thought he was an honest businessman. But he wasn’t. His philanthropy was for nothing. Just to show his power he had over others. I understood why my mom was sad, why my parents would argue. I vowed then to separate myself from that life. I wanted to be a true businesswoman. I wanted to prove that I wasn’t corrupt like my father. And I wanted to provide for my mother and give her the life she never had.”

I look up at Landon as he rubs his thumb over my lip. “You sacrificed your happiness for your mom’s?”

I shrug. “Not at the beginning. I was so proud when I got into Harvard. No one from the west side ever did that. And I was happy there. I was ready to take on the world. I had so many ideas. I wanted to make a difference.”

“What happened?”

“I got married. I got pushed into being the woman that he wanted. The one that fits his mold not my own.”

“But you had kids?”

I smile at that. “Olivia and Makayla are my world. I am so happy we had them. They keep me going.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead. We lay there for a little while, the sun making its way over the horizon. I’m waiting for Landon to tell me he has to go but instead he gives me just a little more.

“Sam shouldn’t have died.”

I study his face as he says it. The slightest crinkle happens between his brow and I can tell he is fighting back the emotion. He never breaks, his face stoic but just this one time I can see the scars underneath, see the sadness he is hiding.

“Who’s Sam?” I ask cautiously, afraid if I pry too much he will stop talking.

Landon rolls away from me and stares out the windows. The orange and red colors of the sun rising, dance across his face. He doesn’t blink as he looks out toward the crashing ocean waves. I watch him as he watches the water, waiting for him to speak or move or do anything. But he just sits there and stares.

I don’t know how long I watch him but eventually he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Landon.” My voice, a whisper in the air.

His shoulders sag at my voice. I reach out to touch him but he stands before I can.

“I should get going.”

I scramble to the edge of the bed, untwisting my legs from the tangled sheet. “Wait.”

He doesn’t respond as he pulls on his shorts and shoes. He heads to the doorway where I threw his shirt last night. I twist out of the sheets and grab a t-shirt as I run to the door, trying to catch him before he leaves.

“Landon,” I plead one last time.

He turns to look at me, his eyes hollow, as his hand rests on the door. That one look is enough to make someone run. The raw emotion on his face could scare anyone away. But I recognize it. I see the desolation in his eyes that I feel in my own soul. Rather than taking a step back, I take a step closer, reaching for the darkness in him like it’s my light.

“Please.” My voice cracks.

He pinches his eyes closed, his fingers grabbing the crease between his brow. “Mariela.”

My real name on his lips breaks the dam inside of me. The one holding everything back. I rush to him, my hands flying to his face, cupping his chin, forcing him to see the darkness inside of me can be his light.

His eyes finally open to meet mine. The fathomless darkness of his almost black eyes enough to swallow me whole. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” my words, softly spoken.

“Feel.”

I drop my hands from his face. The rejection, a sharp tipped sword. I step back as last night replays in my head. The way he grabbed me when I told him it was real. The way he held me through the night. “I said this was real.”

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