Chapter 12 - Valentina
2510 Words
After Matteo leaves, everyone seems to relax a little and we’re back to talking about our student life and where we want to go on vacation next.
My original assessment of Sophia still stands an hour later when we’re in the living room listening to music and obviously doing more drugs. She keeps going on about how she can’t do coke anymore, but she doesn’t need it to stay awake.
I’m sitting by the bar in the corner of the living room next to Isabella, people-watching and idly discussing random s**t. For some reason, the exchanges between Matteo and Raisa seem the most interesting to me. Or maybe because it’s all happening in front of a huge painting of the woman with a flower head by Dalí.
A tall, thin brunette exits the balcony and walks past the two of them, and Matteo tenses up before turning his head to watch her for a moment. I don’t think Raisa notices.
“Who’s that?” I ask Isabella.
She snaps out of her thoughts. “Who?”
“The brunette talking to Marco.”
“Oh. That’s Allison.” She rolls her eyes.
“You don’t like her?”
Isabella shrugs. “She’s Matteo’s ex, Allison. I have no idea what she’s doing here. Or who even invited her.”
I feel like there’s more to the story because I’ve never seen Isabella so close to being angry at someone, but I don’t push her. My feet hurt from wearing heels all night and the coke is wearing off. If I start seeing daylight it’ll be game over for me.
I place my glass on the bar and turn in my chair to face Isabella.
“I think I’m going to go home.”
“You sure?”
I see someone familiar out of the corner of my eye, talking to Marco as well. “Is that my brother?” I ask in disbelief and take a hold of my glass again as I stand up.
I don’t hear what Isabella tells me about him being friends with Marco because I’m making my way towards him. It’s not really weird seeing him at the same party as me; it’s weird seeing him at this type of party.
“Hello, what are you doing here?” I ask, switching to Russian, not giving a f**k whether it’s impolite towards Marco or the brunette girl.
“Marco invited me, I was at another party in the city and decided to swing by. You okay?” he asks, switching the subject back to me.
“Fine. But I’m coming home with you.” I tell him. Then, smiling, I raise my glass to him and knock it against his. “Cheers.” I add, in English. It had never really occurred to me before tonight that I could stay at Adrik’s when I’m in the city instead of getting a hotel. Now that he’s out of the dorms and into a two bedroom apartment on the Lower East Side, I could, in theory, sleep at his.
“Cheers.”
When I join Isabella back at the bar, she looks very amused.
“Do you think he could tell I’m on coke?” I ask her.
“I don’t know. He might be higher than you are.”
I look back at Adrik, who’s looking back and forth between Marco and the brunette as they’re talking. His eyes are smaller than usual, and he seems like he’s really trying to keep up with their conversation. He is high.
“He’s adorable.” Isabella laughs and shakes her head before taking a sip from her glass. Then, she nods towards Sophia and Vinnie, talking in hushed tones in the left corner of the room. “She, on the other hand, is annoying.” Then, she turns towards Marco and my brother. “And her too.”
Judging by the way she slurs her words; I can tell Isabella has had one too many and is starting to become unhinged. Also, I’m not sure why she doesn’t like Matteo’s ex, since Marco seems to be getting along just fine with her.
“Come to the bathroom?” she whispers to me, trying to get off the highchair. She wobbles on her heels, so I stabilize her by grabbing her arm.
“Yeah, where’s the bathroom in this place?”
I let her guide us to the bathroom in the hallway, where she shushes me as soon as we get inside and locks the door. Then she falls to her knees in front of the toilet and dry heaves into it.
“You need to throw up?” I ask, even though it’s obvious.
“Uhuh.” She says and then proceeds to actually throw up twice.
I get her some water and try to pat her forehead with a cold towel when someone knocks on the door.
“Isabella? Matteo sent me to check on you.” Someone says from behind the door.
Isabella lifts her head up and looks at the door. “Bitch.” She hisses, before she throws up again.
“I’m fine, Allison. I’m with Valentina.”
“You sure?”
“Yes!” I say, at the same time as Isabella.
We wait for a moment before Isabella finally gets up and brushes her knees clean. “Matteo sent me.” she says in a high-pitched voice, mimicking an American accent. “Was that his ex?” I ask and help her wash her face.
Isabella nods. “I thought Matteo was done with the bullshit.”
“What bullshit?”
“Allison bullshit.” She says, as if it’s supposed to give me any information. “Do you want to go home? We can sleep at Adrik’s place.”
“Why not at your hotel?” Isabella asks, indirectly agreeing to my idea.
“I think Raisa’s brother is there.”
Isabella nods. “Call an Uber. I’ll wait here.”
I set out on a mission to find our coats, call an Uber, and also inform Adrik of our decision. I find him on the balcony, smoking a cigarette with Matteo, Marco, and Allison.
“I’m leaving. Give me your key?”
Adrik makes a face but starts looking through his pockets nonetheless.
“You going alone?” he asks, switching to Russian.
“No, I’m going with Isabella. I’ll leave the door open.”
“I’ll sleep here.” Adrik announces and I shoot him a weird look.
“Since when?”
Adrik shrugs. “Since now?”
“Fine.”
I hold out the hand to him and he places his apartment keys in it.
“The address is on the family groupchat.” He adds in English.
“Yeah, thanks.”
I wait by the bar for a couple of minutes until a driver accepts my ride then go to find Isabella when he’s five minutes away.
The apartment is on the twentieth floor so getting downstairs in front of the building from the inside of the apartment takes just about five minutes.
“Do you have your phone?” I check with Isabella while we wait for the elevator. “Yes.” She smiles, not opening her eyes.
When we get inside the elevator, she leans against the mirror, exhaling.
“In case you’re wondering what my problem with Allison is.” She starts, keeping her eyes closed. “She made anything she wanted out of Matteo’s life for four years. Was jealous over my friendship with him and filled his head with lies. She’s not a nice person. And I thought Matteo was over it, I mean, it’s been over a year. But she’s here, and if they start again I’m going to lose my s**t. He deserves better.”
I smile. “You love him?”
“Of course, I do. That’s why I want what’s best for him.”
I nod, just as the elevator comes to a halt and the double doors open to reveal an empty lobby, save for the one night-shift receptionist. The car is already outside, so I help Isabella climb inside and lean against the other window.
“I’m not going to sit by and watch him be a doormat anymore.” She drunkenly says out of nowhere, before she dozes off against the window for the rest of the twenty-five-minute car ride.
***
I wake up around two in the afternoon the next day, well-rested but with a puffy face and a weird taste in my mouth. Isabella is still sleeping next to me in Adrik’s bed, so I grab my phone from the nightstand and quietly walk out of the room.
I open one of the kitchen windows and light a cigarette as I pull up my texts with Adrik.
Valentina: where are you?
While I wait for an answer, I choose the cappuccino option on the coffee machine and look at the photos taped to the fridge.
There’s one of our family this year in August for Adrik’s eighteenth birthday, smiling from ear to ear because we went to Sardinia for the occasion. There’s another one of him and his teammates at an ice hockey championship they ended up winning last year. There’s several more of him and his friends from school, at parties, and in aesthetic places.
I’ve never even seen these photos because he only posts on ** like three times a year and doesn’t really share his life with me or my parents. At least, not as much as I do.
My eyes fall on a photo buried under three other photos in the down right corner of the fridge. I crouch down and take it off the fridge. It’s of Adrik on the beach, kissing a girl’s temple. She has blonde hair curled at the ends and is turned with her back to the camera, hugging Adrik’s waist.
There's another photo of him holding the same girl as she jumps in his arms, with her face covered by her hair. But I recognize the beach, even though it's rainy in the photo. It’s in Capo d’Orlando, where we would sometimes go at night to eat dinner by the sea.
The phone buzzes on the counter so I put the photo back and go to check my messages.
Adrik: on the way back now
Adrik: u?
Valentina: your place
I lean against the open window with my coffee and another cigarette. Who’s that girl in the photo?
Fifteen minutes later, the intercom rings and I let Adrik in the building. “You look well.” I sarcastically say when I see his disheveled hair and dark circles.
“Spare me.” he replies, dropping down on a chair in the kitchen.
“Do you want some coffee?” I ask, even though the actual thing I want to talk about is that girl in the photo.
“Yes, please.”
We listen to the coffee machine getting to work, neither of us saying anything. “Are you hanging out with Marco Giudice now?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Since last year.”
“Do you have any girlfriends?” I continue, realizing that I sound exactly like mom. “You sound like mom.” Adrik says, running a hand through his hair.
“I saw a photo on your fridge with a girl.” I say, cutting straight to the point. He raises his eyebrows and leans back in the chair.
“And?”
“Who’s that?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Oh, come on.”
He shakes his head. “She asked me not to tell. Plus, that’s over now.”
I purse my lips, not satisfied with the answer at all, but knowing it was the most I’m going to get for now.
“Do I know her?”
“Valentina.” He sternly says, crossing his arms.
“So I do.” I smirk, then put the coffee in front of him.
“Don’t start snooping, I mean it.” he says, pointing his finger at me. “Just find something to do, I swear.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m serious, Valentina. I promised her nobody would find out.”
I laugh. “Seriously?”
“Yes. We ended it when school started.”
“Fine.”
I watch him drink his coffee. “Are you okay though?”
He nods, looking genuine.
“Fine. Then I’ll stay out of it.”
Adrik squints at me. “I don’t believe you. You can’t let stuff go.”
I feel offended for a moment, so I sit down at the table across from him so he can look me in the eye.
“I can let stuff go, and I have. I won’t bother you about it. I just want to know you. We haven’t talked in months.”
He shrugs. “I’ve been busy with school, and you’re in university now. I’m fine, I just don’t share that much.”
I sigh, but then I get an idea.
“Oh no, no.” Adrik says, shaking his head.
“What?”
“You’ve got that look on your face when you’re about to suggest we play a game. And if I lose, I have to share something with you.”
I pout. “No, I wasn't about to do that.” Lie.
Adrik looks me straight in the eyes. “Valentina. I used to love those games when we were younger, but right now things are more serious and we both have responsibilities.”
“Right.” I snort, remembering how my senior year was mostly me going out and not having any responsibilities. And up until now, my first year of university is looking pretty much the same.
Adrik stands up from the table. “I’m going to go take a shower.”
“What if we played on your Xbox?” I try, following him into the living room. “Haha, you wouldn’t last a second.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “Try me.”
“Fine. But we’re playing Fifa, and you’re not allowed to use overhead controls.”
We shake on it, and five minutes later I’ve picked my Spanish team and he’s gone with his favorite team.
The game is boring, and by halftime it’s 5-0 for him, but I’ve missed doing anything with him. Before I even get the chance to tell him that, the second half of the game starts and I end up losing 8-1.
“You did put up a fight at the end, I’ll give you that.” He says, watching the screen go black.
“I missed playing with you.” I tell him, and he stops by the door.
“I missed playing with you too.” He smiles, then disappears down the hall. “But wanting to always play games will be the death of you .”
- Writer
