Never Truth

15

His voice had matured and was now a gravelly rumble that filled my stomach with a swarm of butterflies taking flight, but I hardly noticed. I was too focused on the fiery rage that heated me from the inside out. He had no right to use that name after everything he’d done. After all those years. Hot, angry tears burned at the back of my throat. “Don’t you dare call me that,” I hissed. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t want any part of it.” I threw my napkin onto the table, but before I could stand, his hand came down on mine. “Easy, Sofia,” he soothed in a calm tone. “I’m not here to upset you.” “What other reason could you possibly have?” I scoured his features over the flickering votive candle, trying to decipher what was going on, but came up empty. “Maybe I missed you.” His words were sweet and almost sounded earnest, which was why they made me laugh. I leaned back in my chair, yanking my hand away from his and feeling my shattered armor repairing itself in record time. “Yeah, right. After seven years, you expect me to believe you woke up this morning and decided to see what I was up to?” “Not at all. I expect you to believe that I wake up every morning thinking about you. You don’t just cross my mind; you live in it.” He held my eyes with such burning intensity that my gaze fused to his. What was he implying? How could he say such a thing after he’d cast me away like yesterday’s garbage? I took in a shaky breath when my lungs screamed for air, then found the strength to drop my gaze. Every hour and every day of the interminable pain I suffered after he left crashed over me, washing away the numbness. There was no question how seeing him made me feel—it was the excruciating refracturing of a wound I’d thought long healed. “Please, leave.” It was only a whisper, and all I could muster past the aching lump in my throat. I couldn’t even lift my gaze as he stood. Nico bent to place an unexpectedly soft kiss on my forehead, his rough fingertips cupping my cheek. “I’m sorry, Sof.” His rumbled words constricted themselves around my heart, making it hard to breathe as he pulled away from me. “Nico? Are you leaving so soon?” my mother asked from nearby in a boisterous voice. “You’re welcome to join us, you know.” “I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Genovese, but I have somewhere to be. Take my card. It’s got my number on it. Maybe we can all get together sometime. It was lovely running into you both.” “Oh … yes, of course. Please, keep in touch.” My mother reclaimed her seat and attempted to continue our luncheon as if nothing had happened, but it might as well have been a lunch for one. I couldn’t force down a single bite, nor could I stand to look at her. Instead, I sipped my water and counted the delicate petals on each fragrant rose in the bouquet beside our table. I made it to seven hundred and twenty before the nightmare was over and we left for home. One would think I would have overcome the feeling of being utterly alone. It was not the first time I’d experienced it, or even the second, and it surely would not be the last. But each time, it hurt just as profoundly as the time before. Seeing him brought back the stabbing pain of loneliness. It was ironic because when we’d first become friends, Nico was my only refuge from that very same pain. OceanofPDF.com I wasn’t the same as the other kids at Xavier Catholic School. When they talked about their gaming systems and extravagant family vacations, it was easy to tell their families were different from mine. Their moms didn’t work and were able to come to school for class parties. They had bouncy castles and magicians at their birthday parties. We lived in a tiny two-bedroom house and had never been on a single family vacation. One time when my parents were fighting, I heard my dad call my school a waste of goddamn money. My mom yelled back that she didn’t ask for much, and Xavier was where she drew the line. I guess Ma won the fight because they never moved me to public school. I didn’t mind Xavier. The teachers were nice, and there was a huge playground with monkey bars. I was bigger and stronger than the other boys in first grade, so I always won when we raced, especially on the monkey bars. I might not have been the same as the other kids, but being strong and fast helped me make friends. About a week after I met the ladybug girl, I was surprised to see her sitting on a swing at my school during recess. I’d never noticed her at my school before, but there were lots of kids, and kindergarten through third grade all had recess together after lunch. She wasn’t swinging; she just sat on the swing staring down at the dirt below. “Hey, Ladybug Girl. Did you always go to my school?” I asked, coming to stand in front of her. When she lifted her eyes to look at me, she didn’t look like the same person. For a second, I wondered if I had been mistaken, but the red sneakers and yellow jacket were the same, and I was reassured that it was her. She didn’t say a word, just nodded. “What grade are you in?” I asked out of curiosity, wondering how I’d never noticed her before. “Kindergarten,” she said in a small voice. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but I could tell she was upset. “Are you okay?” She thought for a minute before shaking her head. The swing next to her was empty, so I sat down. “You want me to get a teacher?” Again, she shook her head.