“Are you dying or something?” I asked him, and his serious expression gave way to amusement.
“No,” he chuckled out.
“Am I?”
“You’re having a hard time but don’t want to discuss what’s wrong. I get it. I’ve been there.”
If anyone had been there, it was definitely Luca. I couldn’t begrudge him that. A thought skittered across my mind and out of my mouth without conscious thought. “Do you still believe in the curse?”
He positioned himself on the stationary bike beside me but didn’t start peddling. He took a deep breath as if contemplating his answer, his hand sliding down to scratch his left shin, a place I knew to be scarred from both his broken leg and from the same flames that had scarred me.
“Before Alana died I didn’t. Then, I felt like I had no choice not to. But Molly has a completely different perspective on it, doesn’t believe in it at all.” Luca pooched out his lips and rubbed the dark scruff of his beard. “I keep going back and forth, so I guess the jury’s still out for me. I don’t want to believe in it.”
“I think it’s bullshit, personally,” I told him.
“Even with all the evidence to the contrary?” Luca wasn’t being argumentative, he seemed to be poking at the concept as if searching it for holes. For weaknesses.
“I don’t think it’s evidence. Suffering is a part of life for everyone. It’s not like our family has cornered the market on it.”
He smirked. “You’re pretty wise for someone so young.”
“Young?” I scoffed. “I’m only two years younger than you.”
His smile widened before his expression became more somber, less playful and taunting. “Life isn’t only about suffering, you know. It can feel that way, but it’s not.” He stood, his hand coming up as if to clap my shoulder, then remembering, he dropped it, nudging my side with his elbow instead. “Whatever’s going on with you, I hope you remember that.”
And with that, he left me in the gym, his limp barely noticeable.
11
Kelly
October faded into November, November into December, and before I knew it, a new year had dawned. My parents had their usual holiday get-togethers where all their far-flung relatives and friends showed up.
The nice thing was that it made my mom and dad fight less. The not so nice thing was that I had to sleep on a pallet in our living room to accommodate all the modified sleeping arrangements. As a kid, I hadn’t minded this much, but waking up with a sore back and a crick in my neck every morning as an adult wasn’t my idea of a Merry Christmas tradition.
After our last kiss, Marco began to change his work habits. He’d still come in daily, but he occupied himself in the main office instead, only coming into the cash office with me occasionally. He made himself available to me for questions and remained polite anytime we interacted, but that closeness we’d developed before was gone.
He’d been so encouraging with me prior to this, so supportive. I remembered a night when we’d been short-handed and we’d both pitched in. Even though he was in this tailored Armani suit, he’d taken the time to bus tables, help me bring out food, and even push a broom around. I never would’ve thought him humble enough to do such things, but he had been.
And afterwards, once we’d closed up shop, he’d turned to me with an amazed smile on his face. “I have a whole new respect for restaurant workers everywhere. Everyone gets a raise. Well, except for those who called in tonight.”
I laughed. “For someone who I’m guessing has lived a pretty pampered existence, you did really well.”
He features became sardonic. “You think I’ve been pampered?”
Realizing my faux pas far too late, I attempted to back-peddle. “Well…”
“No, I think I get it. Fancy clothes. Hundred-dollar haircut. I probably do look pampered.”
His admission emboldened me. “You weren’t?”
His eyes, which had been glittering in amusement, went grim. “No.” Then he proceeded to tell me about how his mom had died when he w
as thirteen, how his dad had been extremely demanding, and how he now had to live up to his legacy as a Varasso.
I could tell that he’d loved his mother but didn’t care for his father much. I wanted so badly to ask about what being a Varasso was like, to figure out if there was any truth at all to my brother’s belief in his criminal lifestyle, but I didn’t. I did, however, ask about what he did before buying Organic Eats.
“My family runs a business. A large and diversified business. I’ve helped out in various respects over the years, but I’ve never been responsible for running a business all by my lonesome.”