Page 563 of Not Over You

She shook her head, about to protest leaving her new gift.

Lilo took the bunny from her, setting it in the carrier in the back seat. Before he could even move, Minnie was already trying to push past him, to get in his car. He let her slip in. She buckled up and gave me a look. She was going to fight me on this.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll see you there.”

“Get in the car, Lucila,” he said.

I lifted a hand and waved. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked toward the church to grab my bag. I always brought a little something, even if Michele wanted to do everything on his own.

After Carine was diagnosed with ALS and couldn’t handle it anymore, Michele stepped up and started doing the cooking on Sundays. I offered to do it, time and time again, but he refused. I had a feeling it meant a lot to Carine that he did it. It was something she had loved to do for her family. He was doing it for her. An extension of her arms and legs—her weakening body.

By the time Minnie and I usually got there, Carine’s eyes were always bright, and a smile lingered on her face. I had no idea what they did in that time, but it was just for Lilo’s parents. Music always played softly in the background. It seemed like while he cooked, he set the mood, and they had conversations that neither one of them would ever forget.

Michele’s life revolved around Valentino’s. He took seriously what his father had left him. Before Carine’s diagnosis, no one could ever get him to stop long enough to take a breather. He still ran circles around men much younger than him, but on Sundays, his time came to a screeching halt. He gave it to his ailing wife.

It was a sweet thing, and it gave me hope—that love could be that way. But other thoughts were on my mind as I started to walk.

Most of the time I refused to live in the past. I refused to rehash memories that were better left buried deep in time’s graveyard. Because after, I could still feel the echoes of their heartbeats and the touch of cold hands and feet on my heart. That was when I locked myself up, afterward, someplace quiet, and ate chocolate. Letting the euphoria of it take hold and hide the hurt even deeper.

Some coping mechanisms never die, no matter how many times we, or anyone else, try to kill them.

The look on Lilo’s face while he had sat in his car brought me back, though. Brought me back to a time when he held my hand and forced me to eat with his family.

Forced me to eat because he’d done what no one else could. He’d gone past what I always tried to hide.

My pain.

It had spilled over my heart and filled me with a hopelessness that had killed all desire—for anything.

LUCILA

THE PAST

My face burns, like the sun is hot on it, while Lilo piles two plates up with food and sets them in front of me.

Carine watches. His father, Michele, watches. His grandmother watches. Lilo is the only one who doesn’t. He’s busy piling food on his plate.

I’m the type of person who is too shy to ask for a glass of water when I’m thirsty, so this is all…too much. But I don’t say anything, because again, I don’t want to seem rude.

How am I going to finish all of this? That would be rude, too, because then Carine might think I don’t like her food. It all looks great, smells good, too, but I’m just not…hungry. My stomach is making noises like it’s starving, but a nauseated feeling is making my jaw tight.

Why does he care that I eat? He doesn’t even know me.

My eyes fall on him.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies flitter in and out of the sick feeling, sending my heart into…a panic attack? Maybe that’s what this is? My chest feels hollow, like I can’t catch my breath. I hope I don’t pass out and my face lands in a plate full of food.

That would be totally embarrassing. Right up there with this moment. All this food is in front of me, but I’m struggling to touch it.

I’m fighting to keep my eyes off him. I can’t decide if that’s because he’s so fine, or if there’s something else going on.

Earlier, after I’d finished singing, the way he was looking at me…

To hide the confusion I’m sure is showing on my face, I pick at some kind of casserole, moving it around on my plate.

“No playing with your food!”

My eyes snap up. The woman who I only know as Carine’s mom is staring at me. She’s waiting for me to eat. Oh God, I wish my shirt had a collar so I could burrow inside of it like a turtle. My eyes flicker to Lilo, who is eating, a grin on his face. A shit-eating one.

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