Page 16 of Die for You
He nods, and I realize this tiny book is our only way of communicating. How incredibly old-school. I love it.
Nausea and dizziness hit me once again, so I slump back down into the cushions, groaning as I place my forearm across my eyes to block the morning sun.
If this is my response to a single letter, then how am I expected to carry out what Gianna demands of me? Have I lost my nerve because this simple life has shown me that this is what I secretly crave?
I surrender to sleep because those questions are ones I don’t want to face.
Now, and perhaps ever.
I wake to the smell of something delicious, which surprises me, considering I was throwing up my guts not that long ago.
Opening my eyes slowly, I see that it’s dark out. I must have slept the day away.
Lupo sleeps on the floor beside me, which means Nico is still here.
This is so out of character for me to let my guard down this way.
I don’t like it.
Coming to a slow sitting position, I brush the hair from my face and am thankful the nausea has subsided. It troubles me that I reacted that way.
What’s happening to me?
Peering around the room, I see that the golden crucifix ornament I threw into a drawer sits on the mantel once again.
It’s the cue I needed to remind myself of who I am and what I have done.
Angered, I stand and charge into the kitchen to tell Nico to mind his business and to get out of my house. That religious relic has no place in my home because there is no God. But what I observe has the anger in me simmering because Nico has cooked me chicken soup.
He places a soup bowl onto the neatly set table.
A large ceramic bowl with oranges printed around the sides sits in the center of the table, filled with freshly baked bread. Olives, cured meats, cheese, and fruits complete this feast, and I suddenly feel undeserving, seeing as I was about to kick him out.
He smiles when he notices me.
Why does he do that?
I don’t understand.
Lenny never used to smile at me that way. Perhaps it’s because we never really had much to smile about. Both foreigners in a world that chewed us up and spat us out time and time again. All we did was merely attempt to survive, clinging onto the other in case we drowned.
But with Nico, those feelings aren’t present. I don’t know what I feel because I’ve never experienced it before.
Nico pulls out a seat for me.
Now is the time to tell him to get out and never return, but I find myself doing the complete opposite and sitting down. I peer at the food in front of me. It does look good. My empty stomach growls, demanding to be fed.
I run my fingers over the mismatched silverware and realize this is the first meal I’ve sat down for. Yes, I was fed and fed well at Gianna’s, but did we ever sit down at a setting such as this and have a “family” dinner?
No.
I usually ate my meal, standing at the kitchen counter, alone.
Everything in Gianna’s house was perfect and had a place, unlike Lenny and me.
I never had an issue with it because I didn’t know any better. But now, presented with this scenario, I see that under that perfection, things were so distorted.
What is wrong with me?
