it,” I say, tracing my finger along the outlines of the tattoo. “You think about me too.”
He bites the corner of his bottom lip and shakes his head. I take a step closer to him. I can smell his shampoo, something woodsy and clean.
“Don’t come back here, Gia,” he whispers. “Please.”
I lean forward so my lips touch lightly against his. I expect him to push away again, but, like before, for a fraction of a second he stands still, eyes closed. Then as if a different part of his brain trips an alarm, his warm hands close over my upper arms and he eases away, closing his eyes for a moment.
“Good-bye, Michael,” I whisper then turn and bolt down the street. Thomas is waiting exactly where I left him. I climb into the backseat of the car, disappearing behind the tinted windows. I pull the door and it closes with a loud thud, like the lid on a coffin. Thomas and I look at each other through the rearview mirror. He starts the car and pulls into the street.
“I’m a good listener,” he says, staring ahead.
Only I don’t have words to explain how I feel. I stare out the window, trying to make sense of what just happened and the jumble of emotions inside as tears run down my cheeks because it feels like I have to fight so hard for everything in my life and nothing is easy and normal and straightforward. And I go around pretending and pretending and praying for what could be, but I can’t escape who I am and it’s so clear that Michael doesn’t want to get involved with the radioactive Don’s daughter. He can’t see past that. Or won’t. And it’s so unfair.
“Shut up about fair,” Anthony always says. “Life’s not fair, Gia. Grow up.”
Only I can’t accept that. I won’t.
Before I can make any sense of it, someone is gently shaking my shoulder. I open my eyes and look up.
“Gia,” Thomas says softly. “You’re home.”
I stare back at him, unaware that I fell asleep. “Thanks, Thomas, for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” he says gently. “Any time.”
Half asleep I stumble down the street. I look both ways. All quiet. I stare up at the house. My parents’ bedroom light is off. Very gently, I slide the key into the basement door lock. It opens with the softest creak. I walk in and close the door behind me, relieved to be inside. The door sticks a little because the frame is warped so I push it, gritting my teeth as it creaks into place. It takes me a few seconds to find the light. I flick it on, then think better of lighting up the whole basement and turn it off, feeling my way in the darkness.
Thump! A hand from out of nowhere comes down hard, slamming my shoulder.
“Ow!” I scream as I get dragged into the basement.
A beam of light from above suddenly illuminates my face.
“ Gia ,” my dad says.
I stare at him in his pajamas. He’s glaring at me, enraged, shaking, his hand wrapped tightly around the end of a baseball bat.
“I could have killed you,” he yells, out of breath, squeezing my shoulder. He’s shaking so hard that the first thought I have is that he’s going to have a heart attack and drop to the ground dead. I stare back at him, his eyes wide and hard.
He throws the bat down hard behind him and it lands with a loud smack and bounces and rolls across the concrete floor and hits the side of a metal cabinet with a clank.
“What’s wrong with you?” he says, catching his breath. His voice becomes so quiet and intense that it scares me more than when he was yelling. “I thought you were somebody breaking in. You were supposed to be asleep. Where were you? What the hell were you doing outside at this time of night?”
“I…I…”
Before I can come up with an answer, footsteps stomp down the staircase.
“What’s going on?” Anthony shouts, a gun in his hand.
“Oh Jesus,” I say, ducking.
“Go back upstairs!” my dad yells. “It’s just Gia, and put that fuckin’ gun away.”
“What the fuck?” Anthony says.
I don’t know who my
He bites the corner of his bottom lip and shakes his head. I take a step closer to him. I can smell his shampoo, something woodsy and clean.
“Don’t come back here, Gia,” he whispers. “Please.”
I lean forward so my lips touch lightly against his. I expect him to push away again, but, like before, for a fraction of a second he stands still, eyes closed. Then as if a different part of his brain trips an alarm, his warm hands close over my upper arms and he eases away, closing his eyes for a moment.
“Good-bye, Michael,” I whisper then turn and bolt down the street. Thomas is waiting exactly where I left him. I climb into the backseat of the car, disappearing behind the tinted windows. I pull the door and it closes with a loud thud, like the lid on a coffin. Thomas and I look at each other through the rearview mirror. He starts the car and pulls into the street.
“I’m a good listener,” he says, staring ahead.
Only I don’t have words to explain how I feel. I stare out the window, trying to make sense of what just happened and the jumble of emotions inside as tears run down my cheeks because it feels like I have to fight so hard for everything in my life and nothing is easy and normal and straightforward. And I go around pretending and pretending and praying for what could be, but I can’t escape who I am and it’s so clear that Michael doesn’t want to get involved with the radioactive Don’s daughter. He can’t see past that. Or won’t. And it’s so unfair.
“Shut up about fair,” Anthony always says. “Life’s not fair, Gia. Grow up.”
Only I can’t accept that. I won’t.
Before I can make any sense of it, someone is gently shaking my shoulder. I open my eyes and look up.
“Gia,” Thomas says softly. “You’re home.”
I stare back at him, unaware that I fell asleep. “Thanks, Thomas, for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” he says gently. “Any time.”
Half asleep I stumble down the street. I look both ways. All quiet. I stare up at the house. My parents’ bedroom light is off. Very gently, I slide the key into the basement door lock. It opens with the softest creak. I walk in and close the door behind me, relieved to be inside. The door sticks a little because the frame is warped so I push it, gritting my teeth as it creaks into place. It takes me a few seconds to find the light. I flick it on, then think better of lighting up the whole basement and turn it off, feeling my way in the darkness.
Thump! A hand from out of nowhere comes down hard, slamming my shoulder.
“Ow!” I scream as I get dragged into the basement.
A beam of light from above suddenly illuminates my face.
“ Gia ,” my dad says.
I stare at him in his pajamas. He’s glaring at me, enraged, shaking, his hand wrapped tightly around the end of a baseball bat.
“I could have killed you,” he yells, out of breath, squeezing my shoulder. He’s shaking so hard that the first thought I have is that he’s going to have a heart attack and drop to the ground dead. I stare back at him, his eyes wide and hard.
He throws the bat down hard behind him and it lands with a loud smack and bounces and rolls across the concrete floor and hits the side of a metal cabinet with a clank.
“What’s wrong with you?” he says, catching his breath. His voice becomes so quiet and intense that it scares me more than when he was yelling. “I thought you were somebody breaking in. You were supposed to be asleep. Where were you? What the hell were you doing outside at this time of night?”
“I…I…”
Before I can come up with an answer, footsteps stomp down the staircase.
“What’s going on?” Anthony shouts, a gun in his hand.
“Oh Jesus,” I say, ducking.
“Go back upstairs!” my dad yells. “It’s just Gia, and put that fuckin’ gun away.”
“What the fuck?” Anthony says.
I don’t know who my
Similar Books
