Page 21 of Third Degree

I awoke in the same position as I was yesterday. This time, though, there was a pillow tucked under my head and a blanket around my body with a large hand on my thigh. It was a comfort I didn’t know I needed.

I jumped out of the car just as I had yesterday, taking one glance at the man back in the driver’s seat, who was snoozing.

There was no way he didn’t feel what I did last night. I knew I was young and inexperienced, but that kiss was life-changing, world-moving. That was the thing written about in romance novels or in movies.

The last thing I remembered he said to me before I fell asleep was that he’d called me “rosa mia,” which meansmy rosein Italian. I didn’t speak Italian fluently, but I knew pieces of it. What interested me was that he had spoken it and the significance of him calling mehisrose, like there was a possessiveness to it.

I ran back into the house as quickly as I could and shut the door before anyone heard me, making sure to dodge around the neighbor’s house so if Elio woke up, it looked like I lived there.

The next few nights looked the same as the last. We either met halfway along the path, or I went to his house and waited for him to get home. We talked about everything under the sun, including our hopes for our future, the dreams we had shared, and what plants we wanted to grow.

We dreamed a thousand dreams together and created this fictional world we knew would never exist.

Sometimes, our hands would naturally find each other’s, fingers intertwined like we needed that connection. We’d brush against each other, stealing these little moments that made our hearts race with anticipation.

Those touches said all the things we couldn’t put into words. Each time our skin grazed, it was like a secret language of longing and desire. It was our way of saying, “Hey, I feel it too.”

Those stolen moments became this unspoken bond only we understood, creating a world of feelings that danced between us.

In those shared moments, time stood still. It was like we were in our own little bubble, and nothing else mattered. The world faded away, and it was just the two of us navigating this crazy journey we were on. Those walks became our safe haven, where our souls found comfort and our hearts beat as one.

He started to share about his late wife, and I opened up about how I didn’t want to be a part of my family’s life trajectory for me. He shared memories that made him smile in a way that was full of sadness. We were two incredibly lost souls that somehow found solace in each other.

As Friday rolled around, I knew this was the last weekend of our walks, and I became increasingly more anxious to leave dinner during the week.

My cousin came bounding into my room that night as I was getting dressed for dinner.

“Your papa wants me to tell you that we have a special guest this evening, so you need to dress nicely.”

I scowled at her.

“His words, not mine.” She threw her hands up into the air before bounding out of the door, leaving me standing in front of my closet.

Just to piss my father off, I grabbed a miniskirt with a bodysuit and my favorite Converse. Fuck dressing up. Who did I have to impress? Aside from the older man I’d been spending my evenings with, who was an utter enigma to anyone in this house. Ugh.

I grabbed my purse, hoping my parents were going to be distracted with their guest this evening so I could sneak out earlier than usual tonight since my time with Elio was limited.

I sighed as I opened the door and padded down the long, cold hallway to the dining room.

Three more days. I had three more days until my life would be changed forever… yet again. I had three more days of the smallest piece of freedom to enjoy.

As I swung open the dining room door, I saw a scene of abundance. My parents, uncle, and aunt were seated at the oversized wooden table, surrounded by a seemingly endless array of bread and appetizers. Taking my place beside my cousins, I couldn’t help but notice the vacant seat next to me, which awaited our esteemed guest of honor.

Curiosity and confusion gnawed at me, prompting me to question my father. “Why am I sitting here?” I inquired, seeking clarity amid the orchestrated arrangement.

As he replied, a knowing glint danced in my father’s eyes, his voice tinged with pride and expectation. “You, my dear, will demonstrate to our guest that our family revolves not only around the present company but also our cherished blood ties. It’s up to you to charm him and let him see just how much your papa means to you and how brilliant he is.”

With a lopsided grin and a subtle wink, he conveyed the unspoken expectation for me to showcase my utmost decorum and impeccable manners.

Joy.

I realized that the chances of escaping this elaborate dinner early just to steal a few precious moments with Elio had plummeted to near impossible. The weight of my situation settled upon me, and I sank deeper into my chair, resigning myself to the evening’s proceedings.

9

Elio

37 years old

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