Page 21 of The Sound in Silence

Stop being childish and ignoring me. I know you’re on your phone.

That ought to do it.

One minute…

Two…

If this meeting wasn’t so important and pre-scheduled, I’d fly right back home and—

Do what?I don’t have a reasonable answer for myself, but I’d…I’d show her all the reasons she’s not allowed to ignore me.

Another minute and she’s obviously not going to respond at this point. My finger hovers over her name to call her, but then decide otherwise, reminding myself the uselessness in it. So what if she’s ignoring me? Couples who don’t care about one another don’t sendgood morningmessages to one another. She’s reminding me of my own decisions.

So before my exhaustion drives me to make stupid choices, I connect my phone to the charging cord, shut off the lamp, and bury myself in the bed. Right before passing out, the image of red hair and feisty eyes fills my head and it’s with those colours, I allow the blackness to steal me.

Ariella

Witnessing Aurora’s return to her family was a shitshow, not that I’d react differently if I was in her place. At first, she hid in her bedroom to avoid her family, and while the thought to do the same crosses my mind when I open my eyes, my grumbling stomach coupled with the fact that Erico isn’t present convinces me to leave the bed.

But everything feels different. The room I stand in the middle of—not mine. The bathroom I use, noting how all my preferred soaps and items are already stocked, isn’t mine. Touchinganythingfeels like I’m invading a stranger’s space.

Essentially, I suppose, I am.

A stranger with a claim on me.

Day one of being a wife to a man I barely know. Who barely knows me. What do I do with myself? At Nico’s, I was allowed to do whatever, but with the ongoing drama my sister wrapped herself into, it was easy to hide away when I wasn’t with her. Curled up in bed with my notebook and continuing writing music, an old hobby I only recently started up again.

Sometimes though, when the darkness grew, it made leaving my bedroom impossible. It’d require Della coming to my door and urging me out, completely unaware of why she had to do it. But some mornings, lying with the comforter covering my entire body, staring at only the shade the blanket provided, was alleviating for the deprecating thoughts repeating on a loop in my head.

None of those accompanied me today.

Despite the unknowns of my life, after finishing in the bathroom, I head right for the massive windows, yanking open the heavy drapes until the sight of the ocean is enough to convince myself of being content.

My wet hair gets wrapped up in a bun because I don’t have the energy to care enough to dry it. Similarly, I find leggings and a tank top frommybag and avoid all the expensive clothing Erico stocked.

Every step through the mansion is strange. Quiet, like my body is uncertain if I’ll get in trouble for being here. This isn’tmyhome so every step feels dangerous almost.

I retrace the path Erico took me on yesterday, over the connected balcony and down the sweeping, wide staircase until I’m by the front door again, glancing through the mansion, searching for the kitchen.

Beyond me, by the back of the house, it opens into a huge sitting area with the floor-to-ceiling windows I can see from upstairs. Through them, the world. It taunts me because somewhere out there is my sister, my old life, the city I grew up in, all so far away. Montreal is where I was born, raised, went to school…lived with Mom.

Where I lost Mom. Now, not even in the same country, it feels like I’m further away than ever from her.

I never even got the chance to visit her gravesite.

Della gave me a picture of it, of course, but shortly after the accident, Stefano had me sent away. By the time Mom’s final resting place was all set up, I was forgotten. Della begged Stefano for the medical centre to let me out on a day trip to visit, but the asshole refused.

Once moving in with Della and the Corsettis, we meant to. But between her wedding, Aurora’s return, and the battle with Stefano, I never got the chance.

As I stare at the ocean outdoors, I wonder if I ever will.

Mom would love this place.She, like me, had an affinity for water.

Blinking away the sudden formation of tears, I look away from the doorway, from New York and the world beyond the glass, and toward the rest of the sitting area I’ve stumbled upon. Low, white couches, high back chairs by the fireplace stretch into one wall, glass tables, and the opposite wall, a huge fish tank.

That, I wander closer to. Bright, colourful, tropical fish swim around. A few of them, which I can’t help but smile at. To have tropical fish requires specific equipment—pricey equipment. I know because as a child, Mom bought me a goldfish in place of me wanting a Blue Angelfish, since it was all she could afford.

I study each fish, taking in their bold colours when the familiar and desired yellow and blue catches my eye. What are the fucking chances he owns a Blue Angelfish, the very fish I always dreamed of having? Apparently, pretty good, since here one is.

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