Silent Prejudice

18

I would pick up my pace to a healthy stroll if I wasn’t somewhat dreading what I’d find at the house. I’m not in an outright panic because Zeno wouldn’t have told me the place was safe if it wasn’t. When I reach the back door, I find it unlocked. Slowly, I ease open the door. My eyes immediately cut to the block of knives on the counter across the room. Every slot is filled. Each knife handle is in place. Confused, I tiptoe around the small island to discover the floor on the other side is immaculate. There’s not a drop of blood. No sign of a struggle at all. I’m stunned. The incident already feels like a living nightmare. To see my kitchen looking as though nothing ever happened is surreal. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Aldo’s attack had never even happened, but the sticky memories I can’t escape are too real to be a product of my imagination. I walk around the corner to the living room. Everything looks to be in order, but when I place my hand on the carpet where my glass of wine spilled, the area is wet. Either Zeno cleaned the place himself, or he had someone else do it. That is the only explanation. I have to know what happened—what Z found when he arrived at the house. I have to know if I killed Aldo Consoli. I don’t have the patience to worry about upsetting Z by calling. I don’t care about dating protocols or anything else. I need answers. I open my phone and dial his number. “Everything okay?” Zeno answers his phone with an urgency to his voice. “Yes, everything’s fine. I just got over to my parents’ house. Z, I need to know if I … k—” Before I can say more, he cuts me off. “Not over the phone, Isa. I’ll be back later today. We can talk in person.” “Oh, yeah. Okay.” My eyes scrunch shut in annoyance at myself. Of course, I shouldn’t be saying something incriminating over the phone. “Just answer one question. Was there anyone here when you got here?” “No.” The sound echoes in my ears. The word bears such finality, but in this case, it births a world of uncertainty. Aldo left the house alive, but what happened after? Where is he now? Will he come after me? “Alright, then,” I respond, my voice thin and reed-like. “Well, thank you, again, for your help.” “Isa,” Zeno calls to me, his voice a gentle caress. “I told you I’ll handle it. He won’t touch you again, understand?” “Yeah, okay,” I whisper. “I’ll see you soon, sweet girl.” His murmured words melt my heart like warm butter. “Bye, Z.” I end the call and breathe deeply. I don’t want to panic about Aldo, so I give myself over to thoughts of Z instead. I’d rather overthink that situation than dwell on the possible dangers around me. After so many years at odds with him, having Z back in my life feels like a dream. A glorious, intoxicating, ethereal dream. It’s hard for me to comprehend that it’s happening. I suppose the real test will come when I see him again. Will I sense cool restraint in his presence, or will he seal his place in my heart? I didn’t get the sense last night that Zeno’s interest in me had been transient, but our history makes it hard to wash away the uncertainty. Enough uncertainty that I have plenty to contemplate until my family shows up a half hour later. They parade through the front door like any other day but stop short when they get a glimpse of my face. The only one who doesn’t gape and pepper me with questions is my father. He doesn’t say a single word. Not out loud. But his remorseful stare speaks volumes. Zeno has informed him of the situation. It’s the only explanation. I have no doubt my father now knows all about Aldo. It’s there in the murderous cut to his jaw and slow intervals of his measured breaths. He’s a powder keg of emotions waiting to ignite. I assure everyone that my injury was a product of my own doing—too much wine at my impromptu dance party and a sneaky coffee table wanting in on the action. I point out the wet carpet as evidence of my shenanigans and breathe a sigh of relief when Mom and my sisters accept my excuse as the truth. Mom chatters airily about their outings with my aunt while Livia rolls her eyes and charges upstairs without saying hello. For once, I encourage Mom’s incessant blathering with feigned interest until I notice the effervescent smile on Gia’s face. It hasn’t faded an ounce since she walked in the door, aside from a few moments of concern over my black eye. When she slips upstairs to unpack, I sneak away from Mom to follow her. “You sure look happy to be home,” I say once we’re alone in our room. The joy shining in her eyes warms my chest. “Carter reached out yesterday. I thought about calling you but decided to wait and tell you in person. He and the kids will be back today and have invited all of us over to celebrate Zeno’s birthday this evening. He was so sweet, Isa. I don’t know what all happened in the last couple of weeks, but I think he may have sorted his feelings. I’m just so happy he’s coming back.” A healthy flush has returned to her porcelain skin, and I’m reassured that her heart is well on its way to full repair. A tidal swell of relief makes my sinuses burn with the threat of tears. “Oh, Gia. I’m so thrilled for you.” I pull my sister into a hug, and when we pull away from one another, her eyes are glassy. “Who knows what will happen. I’m just glad there’s a chance. I missed him and the kids so much.” “I know you did, honey.” Did Zeno play a role in Carter’s return? If he did, he took the initiative before our night together. He’d listened to my perspective when we spoke, that I can say for certain. I don’t know for sure whether he took corrective action, but my gut insists that he did. That all his barriers between us have dropped, and it’s changing him.