Page 62 of Be My First

I press my lips together tightly and think for a moment. I don’t tell this story a lot – not so much because it upsets me, but because I’m just so far removed from it. It almost feels like someone else’s story. “My mom was a single mom. I have no information about my father. No one was listed on the birth certificate. She was really young – barely eighteen when she had me. From what I know about her, she was a good mom – trying her hardest. We were poor, and I know life was difficult for her, but I also know she loved me and was doing everything she could to be a good mother.”

“What happened?”

I pause for a moment, thinking about her. I only have one picture of her, and I know so little about her. I take a deep breath before continuing, “She died in a car accident when I was eighteen months old. She didn’t have any family. No one to take me so I went into foster care, and by some miracle I ended up at Momma V’s house with everyone else.”

I’m choking back tears now. As frustrated as I am with my family right now, I think about how lucky I am every day. I don’t remember my mother and sometimes I feel guilty that I don’t mourn her, but my siblings are my family. The only family I’ve ever known.

“I got lucky,” I say as a tear rolls down my cheek.

He puts his hand over mine. “You did.”

He scoots closer and puts his arm around me. I lean into him, wiping away the tears on my cheek. We watch the buildings pass in silence.

I turn my eyes up to his, and we pass a look that Ifeeldeep in my body.It feels heavy and bright at the same time, and I’m not sure what to think of it. He jerks his eyes away and says, “You should talk with your family about everything.”

I sigh. “I’ve tried.”

“Not Eli – well, maybe Eli, but all of them or at least your older brothers.”

“I doubt it will change anything,” I say.

“Worth a try. You’re just going to grow bitter, and you don’t want it to put a wedge between you and your family.”

Iamgrowing bitter, and itisstarting to put a wedge between us. I know they aren’t going to let me run around Italy doing whatever I want, but maybe there’s some sort of compromise. I don’t know what though. I’m just so frustrated with the whole situation. I’m not a helpless child. They aren’t even giving me chances to make mistakes.

The gondolier looks at us and says, “So in love. What a beautiful couple.”

I feel my face grow hot. We do look like a couple right now with his arm around me – talking in hushed tones. Before I can open my mouth to protest, Bode says, “Thank you. She’s a goddess, isn’t she? I’m a lucky man. I don’t deserve her.”

I nearly choke. My mind is racing, but I don’t have much of a chance to dwell on it when the gondolier starts singing.

Bode squeezes my shoulder and leans in. He whispers in my ear, “Nothing wrong with pretending for a moment. Just enjoy it.”

I feel like I might burst into tears again, and I don’t understand why. He feels so nice beside me, and I don’t want to pretend.

When the gondolier stops singing, Bode moves his arm and starts clapping. I join him. The gondolier gives a little bow, and Bode scoots away from me and puts his hands in his lap. We finish the ride without talking.

I steal glances at him the whole way back to the hotel. I literally don’t understand him at all. One minute he’s kissing me, the next he’s trying to stay as far away from me as possible. Are all men this confusing? I haven’t been around enough to know.

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