Page 63 of Unspoken Promises

Ava puts her hand on my leg and gives me a warm squeeze.

“But he was there to collectel cobro de piso…”

“Extortion…” she whispers.

“Instantly, the man put a gun to my head, demanding money. The guy was totally wild, almost seemed on drugs or something. Diego came out, holding a gun, too… I was in shock. My cousin had a pistol. This other guy had a barrel pressed into my forehead.”

That moment in time is frozen as if a photograph in my mind but back then, it didn’t feel like real life. Even now it’s hard to believe it was mine.

“Diego said he didn’t have the money, that his parents weren’t back with their cash from the vineyard yet. I had no idea they were paying this every week I was there…” I can hardly get the words out now any more than I could then.

“The shouting was frantic, and they talked over eachother… I don’t even remember what was said, but out of nowhere, the guy shot Diego in the neck. I dove for the gun when it dropped from my cousin’s hand and shot somewhere in the direction of the gangster, and he ran. There was so much blood…” I’m getting sucked back in to the darkness. “It was…”

“A lot for a fourteen-year-old.” Ava places a hand gently on my cheek, bringing me back to reality. “Enzo…”

I blink hard, knowing that sting of tears well. I had to grit my teeth and clench my fists to hold it back in so many of the years that followed. Still now, my body is tight with self-loathing.

“Diego probably brought that gun out because he was worried about me.” My words are hardly audible. “I let that man in…”

Her other hand comes to my face, and she holds my jaw with her warm, kind hands, staring into my eyes. “A man like that would have pushed past you anyway… or broken the glass.”

“Diego told me not to open the door.” My heart pounds painfully. “They never caught his killer.”

She slides her hands down my face and lays them on my shoulders, shuffling herself ever closer. “It’s not your fault that other people do the wrong thing.”

I lift my gaze to see what I’ve heard in her affirmation. She said it like a mantra. Empathy pours from the honey glow of her eyes.

She mutters, “Those are your words, not mine, right?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Is it the same that I’ve blamed myself so many times for my mom never coming back?”

My heart tears into a million pieces because I want to say it isn’t anything like my situation. But she’s right.

“The possibilities in both of our situations are infinite, Enzo. And yet we always choose the one where we made mistakes. You think if you had just shoved that door and locked it, your cousin would be here. I think if I’d just been quiet… nicer, helped more… that she never would have abandoned me. Neither of us are right. That man was as set in motion as my mom was.”

I place my hand on her forearm. God, do I want to kiss it and take away the pain that’s crept into her eyes. But she slides her hands off my shoulders and holds on to my fingertips. Our knees touch. There’s a connection here like none I’ve ever felt before.

She strokes the sensitive skin of my hand.

“You’ve made the most of a tragic situation. GhostEye… it’s Diego who’s watching?”

“I made it my mission to fulfill what he never got a chance to do.”

And a hope that one day I’ll finally feel redeemed. Though I doubt the day will ever come. Despite two therapists speaking the same words Ava just did, hers alone offer a treasure.

There’s something about meeting someone who totally understands the depth of your trauma. If I refute her, I’m only feeding her own pain and validating the lies she tells herself about her mom. Diego wasn’t my fault any more than Ava’s abandonment was hers. Perhaps if I can one day just believe this simple statement, life will change.

I sure want hers to.

There’s something so deserving of a person who works for it. Ava is the kind of person who is paying it forward, whose grit deserves to be rewarded. With so many people seeking handouts in the world, she’s only asked for a chance to prove herself.

Our fingertips linger; I no longer know if she’s holding me or I’m holding her, but feelings are shifting quickly. The silence that passes between us is comfortable, ravenous and protective all at the same time.

I’m falling.

And I don’t even want to catch myself.

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