Page 55 of Severed Heart
“Yes,” I say, speaking quickly to temper his shock, “but we are close related family, Dominic. You have my hair color and eyes, for God’s sake. My papa’s eyes. Celine’s eyes. Celine and I were not sisters—as much as your mother wanted to believe it so—but my experience is much the same as yours. My mother left me when I was young, and I was separated from my papa not long after. My father, Matis, was uncle to Celine’s father, your grandfather, Francis.”
He remains silent, but I know he wants to hear more.
“The explanation for this is long, but what is important to know is that you came from a good family. Your mother was a good woman, the best I have ever known. Caring, generous, happy. Your father also had a good heart and was patient enough, but when he was angry, he could scare a room into silence. He was an authority—” I frown, summoning the right word.“... authorities man. A man to respect and not to cross. When he spoke, people listened. Both you and Ezekiel possess this.”
I see in his expression this pleases him, and so I continue.
“You have his temper, I assure you. From what Celine said, he got into many fights in school. It was a miracle they didn’t expel him. In some ways, he was unpredictable, but his heart was so very loyal, and he loved your mother and his sons, you and Ezekiel, with the whole of it. Your mother loved me the same. That is why Beau tolerated me... and protected me.”
“From?”
“Life.” I drag my cigarette. “I was not there when they met, but I witnessed their love after they came from France while your mother was growing you in her belly, and they were so very in love. Watching them with you and Ezekiel gave me so much hope for my own marriage, and I envied their connection”—I exhale as I speak—“everyone did.”
Dom remains silent, his gaze on the snow and his demeanor the same, but I know he’s listening raptly.
“You were created during the best part of their love. Love of the purest kind by two people who cared deeply for other people. Who truly wanted to give you a good life and championed as hard as they could to do it before they were killed.”
“Why are you talking like that’s your last bottle?” he asks without a hint of emotion before taking a hit from his joint. “And what happened to your marriage?”
“Dom.” Tyler speaks up, and we both turn to see the door open. He scans me, nodding over his shoulder. “They’re looking for you.”
Tyler shifts his assessing gaze back to me, missing nothing. His disappointment clear as he eyes my dwindling bottle before he greets me.
“Hey, Delphine.”
I nod, meeting Tyler’s soft brown eyes despite wanting to keep mine lowered. The last time I saw Tyler, he found me passed out on the kitchen floor. He’d lifted me from the pile of broken mini-bottles surrounding me. It was another failed attempt to cut the amount of drink—to measure my consumption. Though upset about our missed game, he’d been gentle when placing me in bed and stood at my door waiting for endless minutes, our eyes locked until mine closed. Though, during those tense seconds, I could practically hear every word that died on his tongue as he weighed his decision on whether to try to reprimand me. More judgment from another boy who is playing a man. Several of which my house is currently full of.
Though, I can’t help marveling at the fact that I’m now surrounded by mirror images of a younger me. Children growing up too soon, and their ideology driving them to believe they can make a difference. To change this world and become soldiers with purpose.
One of which I’ve spent months with recently, knowing my drinking affects him more than most. When he’s nearby, I find myself trying to hide each sip from him more and more. The fact that it bothers me now only has me lifting the bottle to take a defiant mouthful. I have no place giving weight to the opinion of a boy, and with one hearty sip, I decide to take away any power I might have given to him to condemn me.
Plagued by what’s transpired in mere minutes by simply sitting at a fucking table, I lift the bottle continually, sipping it while wanting to both shatter and savor it. Tears blur my vision when I finally drop it with a loud clank on the table as my conflicting emotions take over.
“Delphine,” a voice whispers in summons, and I realize Dominic has disappeared into the house. Tyler kneels in front of me now, eyeing my bottle like it’s his enemy, as I realize I just lost myself again in the haze.
“Where are you right now? What’s happening?”
Gazing down at him, I shake my head. “I’m nowhere, and I cannot get anywhere,” I croak as he grips my hands in his.
“You’re shaking so badly,” he states, “tell me what has that expression on your face ... that look in your eyes. Please.”
Loud music blasts from inside the house, and this time, I can’t help but flinch.
“Jesus, please tell me what’s happening right now,” Tyler prods and I blink more tears away to see his own eyes drowning with concern.
“It’s snowing,” I reply.
His brows pinch together as he takes in my state while aware of my ploy to try and divert his attention. This beautiful, sad, brilliant boy. “Is the noise bothering you, too?”
“Do you like the snow?” I redirect again, and he closes his eyes briefly in frustration before answering.
“Doesn’t really affect me one way or another.” He holds out his bare palm to catch some of the drift before prodding again. “But I know you don’t.”
Lifting the bottle, I unscrew the cap, and he places his warm hand on mine to stop me. “It’s empty, Delphine. Tell me, what about the snow bothers you?”
I shake my head. Though Tyler is young, he’s not untouched by women. That much is evident in his healthy confidence. His hurt stems from disappointment by those he has faith in, not by romantic love. Any days he had of trusting without fear are already far behind him—something that I can easily recognize.
Sometimes, I want to ask him what causes his fugue states. What could have possibly happened to him to have him seeking darkness and remaining there? But now, as I seek refuge in my own reflective darkness, I want him nowhere near me. I stay silent as he stares up at me while rubbing each of my hands vigorously through his to warm them.
