Page 47 of Heartfelt Pain
I shake my head.
“Roma.” His voice is softer but demanding.
“It’s nothing, Dad.”
“It’s something,” he argues. “You two don’t go near one another for years and all of a sudden you show up at her place?”
“I’m not talking about this.” I’m not talking to my dad about my love life ever again. It’s how it got so fucked up in the first place.
“Talking about what?” Despite wearing heels, it’s only when she’s at the bottom of the stairs that we realize Mom is right there.
She, like my father, abhors casual clothes. She’s wearing a satin skirt and a cashmere sweater. Nude heels ensure she comes up to my father’s shoulders. She’s holding a large potted plant. A tall, blooming, white orchid.
“What is that?” Dad asks just as I tell her, “Dad, thought I’d turned into a serial killer.”
Naturally, she latches on to my statement.
She walks to the kitchen island, setting down the pot. The housemaid might set out florals, but my mom doesn’t have a green thumb. Yet, she studiously gazes at the potted plant, the white blooms matching her clothes.
“Why does your father think you’re a serial killer?” she quietly asks.
It’s then I realize, I’m not sure I want to talk to my mom about this either. “Ren’s. . . boyfriends have all been disappearing.”
Ice-blue eyes blink at me. Then she turns toward her husband. “And your father believes you are the one who killed all these other men in Ren’s life?”
Dad clears his throat.
“Yes,” I answer for him.
She sighs tiredly. I don’t know why she keeps staring at the orchid. “And Ren? Does she believe it’s you.”
If she did would she have rubbed me off like she did last night?
Mom’s not looking for my answer, though. “No, she would know,” she says.
“What?” I ask.
Dima frowns at the orchid like he can’t understand what it’s doing here either.
“You are your father’s son,” Mom says in her accented voice. It’s soft, but even after almost thirty years in the States, she’s never lost it. “If you wanted to kill Ren’s boyfriends, you would not do so in the shadows.”
“I. . . wouldn’t?”
“No.” She’s sure of it. “You would kill them in front of Ren.”
“That’s a bit brutal.” Yet, Mom didn’t blink as she said it. “You really think I’d do that?”
Until two days ago, I never thought I’d touch Ren again. And while it’s a start, I know the beast inside me isn’t satisfied. It’s why the photo of her with the other man pissed me the fuck off. She thought she’d done something cute. What if I slammed into her apartment and killed the motherfucker? If I dragged her away and kept her.
The beast demands her.
I’m the beast.
Knowing blue eyes peer at me again. “Your father’s done it.”
Dad rubs the back of his neck. My parents aren’t close and I’ve only noticed it more now that I’m an adult.
He doesn’t want to ask her to leave, but it’s clear he feels she interrupted something. And it is unusual for Mom to come down to the kitchen. This is where most of the staff works and she doesn’t eat a whole lot. A fact that’s clear as I take in her bony figure. Dad had a late meeting. She probably didn’t eat dinner withhim away.
