Andre opens the door and pokes his head in. “Dio, this is even worse than I thought.”
“Go away. I’m not in the mood.” I swivel in my chair to give him my back.
Undeterred, he comes in and closes the door. Clearly he doesn’t care if I’m not happy to see him. Then again, we’re brothers. This isn’t the first time we’ve had a fight, verbal or physical, and it won’t be the last. It’s probably better for me to take out my frustration on him than anyone else.
“You’re in a mood. What’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on. Jason just gossips like a little girl.”
The closer he gets, the more I notice the strain around his eyes. I’ve been so preoccupied with my own situation that I’ve clearly been missing some things.
“What’s going on with you? How is the marketing campaign going?”
“I thought branching out into the bridal market was the right move. But sometimes I wonder. What if I’m wrong? It’s a lot of money to gamble. And if it isn’t successful…”
All at once, his shoulders drop and he seems to deflate right in front of my eyes. My brother is known for keeping his cool in every situation, which makes this all the more strange. The idea of the always elegant, unflappable Andre struggling with insecurity is shocking.
It also isn’t as satisfying as I would have thought it would be. It doesn’t make me feel bigger to see him brought down. Instead I’m ashamed of the thoughts I’ve had lately. We’re brothers. Partners. Jealousy has no place here. Nothing comes before family.
“Tell me how I can help, fratellone.”
He shakes his head and looks out the picture window behind me. I turn so I can see what has his attention but it’s just a view of the city streets below, the cars and people like toys on a game board.
“All those people rushing to go nowhere,” he murmurs. “Only to turn around the next day and do it all over again.”
Hearing such sentiments from him is unexpected. I’ve always been the more philosophical of the two of us. Andre is more practical. All of his passion and creativity goes into his designs. I’ve never heard him talk like this.
We sit in silence for a moment, watching the flow of the world on the streets below. Observing people from a distance really puts things in perspective. It’s hard not to feel like we’re all just chess pieces in a larger game.
“Do you remember what Papa used to say about how life is a puzzle?” I ask him.
“Love is the missing piece,” we both chant the words together.
“I miss him.”
He nods. “Me too.”
“He’s proud of us, isn’t he?”
Andre sighs. “I hope so.”
After Andre leaves, I pull open the top drawer of my desk and pull out the napkin Ariana left. The I’m sorry seems like it’s gotten darker and more aggressive in the time since it was written, like the words are mocking me.
I only wish I’d ended that phone call fast enough to catch her on the way out. All it would have taken was a conversation to figure out what went wrong. Although I have a bit of a clue because the waitress had come back with the check and immediately asked for an autograph.
Then she asked if I planned to bring Andre by.
None of it makes any sense. Did Ariana think I was lying by not telling her my last name? She didn’t seem like the type who would care about fame or money.
Frustrated, I toss the napkin back in the drawer. It’s messing with me more than I care to admit. Maybe it’s my conversation with Andre, all that talk about puzzle pieces. Our father was a true romantic. The kind that trusted his heart over facts and believed there was a guiding hand behind everything.
Despite being raised by a man that could teach a course on romance, neither of his sons seem to have inherited that gene.
Maybe because it just didn’t make any fucking sense.
There are billions of people on the earth so how can anyone hope to find The One? What if you take a wrong turn and miss your soul mate? What does that mean? That you’ll die alone?
What God would devise such a system?