Perfect Enemies

22

My soul levitated at his touch. There was no other way to describe it. I could live a lifetime in his arms, yet our kiss was brought to an end just as quickly as it had begun. Yanking away as though I’d burned him, Kane severed our connection. His eyes blazed with the intensity of emotions I couldn’t grasp. Mine were surely riddled with confusion. “When I’m around you, I have no control,” he said between shallow breaths. “Once I start, I won’t be able to stop, no matter how wrong it is.” His jaw snapped shut as though he’d said too much. The light in his eyes dimmed, and a veil of indifference cloaked his features. “I better head back home. See you at school tomorrow.” His retreating form stalked down the sidewalk, leaving me dumbfounded in the cold. OceanofPDF.com 12 OceanofPDF.com T REYNA he second after Val left my house, I raced back up to my bedroom to watch her from the window. I wanted to make sure she left our property safely. It had been selfish to have her over, but I cherished every minute. If my father’s men nabbed her while she was here, I never would have forgiven myself. Once she walked the length of our driveway and disappeared around the corner, I took a long, deep breath. I continued staring out the window at nothing in particular—just the world carrying on despite the chaos of my life. It was soothing to see the leaves sway in a gentle breeze and birds leap from one bald branch to another. In a few months, the landscape would be repainted in vivid colors marking the arrival of spring and new beginnings. No matter how dire my situation appeared, new opportunities would arise and life would go on. I stood watch at my window for fifteen minutes when I noticed motion from the edge of my view. A figure stepped out from beside a tree in the neighbor’s yard, and his gaze was trained up at me. Santino. He’d been watching my house. Had he seen Valentina? He had to have been there the whole time I was at the window, which meant he saw her leave. Anxiety wrapped its greedy arms around my chest and squeezed. If he told her family that she’d been at my house, would they keep her under lock and key? Maybe they would demand my father withdraw me from school to ensure I never saw Val again. If Santino could see the worry on my face, he didn’t show it. He simply turned and disappeared as if he’d never been there in the first place. I sighed and finally stepped away from thoughts of freedom to face the walls of my prison. It was time to check on Mamá. I went back downstairs to the master suite, where I found my mother still in bed, snoring softly. It was later than she usually slept but not totally abnormal. In the past two years, her issues with alcohol had worsened, and she’d added prescription pills to the mix. She’d started using alcohol to escape the reality of her marriage early on, so she never had a chance against addiction. Sometimes, I wondered if she just didn’t know a better way to cope or if she truly wanted to die. Either way, she was working herself toward an early grave. I’d spent years of my childhood trying to protect her and worrying about her, but as each year had gone by, I learned to separate myself from her disordered life. Even at a distance, watching her self-destruct was a challenge, and being emotionally invested in her struggle was more than I could bear. I’d had to pull away for my own sanity. It helped that I harbored a certain degree of resentment. She was the mom. She was supposed to be the strong one—the person who protected me against the world. In the past, when she’d be passed out in the middle of the day, I used to sit next to her for ages, wishing she’d wake up and realize she wanted to change. That she wanted to be my mom again. I’d daydream about living in a small house with just the two of us. We’d cook dinner together and play cards in the evenings like we used to do when I was little and she was still a functioning alcoholic. Now, I hardly gave her unconscious form a second glance before locating her discarded purse on the armchair and pulling out her wallet. The weekly allowance my father gave her was enough to support a small family. Considering how out of it my mom was half the time, she never had any idea how much she spent. I’d been pocketing money from her for a year—from the minute I learned I’d be going to America—hoping to build up enough of a reserve to help me escape. These months in New York were my best opportunity to get away, but that window was closing, ratcheting up my level of desperation. I pulled three hundred-dollar bills from her red leather Gucci wallet and slipped them into my bra. Once I was safely back in my bedroom, I grabbed the large teddy bear that decorated a shelf over my desk and pulled back the duvet on my bed. I curled up beneath the crisp linens, hugging the bear to my chest until I was hidden beneath the covers. I had no idea if my father had cameras in my room and didn’t want to chance him finding my stash, so I pretended to nap anytime I needed to make a deposit. I’d opened a small hole in the bear’s neck seam that I kept secured with a safety pin. Only once I was hidden beneath my covers did I slip off the pin and add the new bills to my collection. For a moment, I allowed myself the luxury of imagining a life away from my parents—something I tried not to do too often because it made the return to reality that much harder to take.