I start spinning paranoid scenarios about the police tracking Oswald walking along the row of houses, catching him on camera until he disappears near mine, and then never showingup on the following ones. I comfort myself with the thought that even if he vanished by my house, the houses beyond the broken line also lost their surveillance footage. So there’s no way to say where Oswald went next.
Luckily no one shows up at my door or asks any questions, and after a few days I manage to calm down somewhat, though that doesn’t mean my guilt fades. I can’t ignore the fact that not only did I kill him, I also handed his body over to the stalker so he could dispose of it like trash. His parents will never have closure. I condemned them to a lifetime of pain and uncertainty. Whatever Oswald did wrong doesn’t erase the suffering of the people who love him.
I promise myself that one day I’ll write them a letter, something that gives them at least a little peace.
Meanwhile, other important changes happen in my life. I officially finish my undergraduate studies and move on to my master’s program.
I also receive an offer from the college. Before, I got a small scholarship and a modest hourly wage for all my duties as an undergraduate teaching assistant and undergraduate research assistant. Now I move to a much better arrangement. Alongside my graduate studies, I’ll be teaching first-year students calculus and algebra, holding a paid position as a graduate teaching and research assistant.
The pay still isn’t great, but it’s higher, and while living modestly and steadily, it will be enough to get by.
In September I start working and studying at the same time.
???
In October I’m invited to Jared’s wedding.
It’s not an easy situation for me because I’ve never met his husband, Mark Ferguson.
I meet him for the first time at the wedding itself.
I’m honestly shocked by how grand the ceremony and reception are. Hundreds of guests, including many public figures. Ferguson comes from a political family, and his uncle was a state senator. He runs a sizable company and clearly does extremely well, moving in all the right circles.
The reception is hosted in the lobby of a large hotel, and I learn it belongs to the Sanders family.
Their only heir, a certain Maurice, is the boyfriend of Jared’s best friend, Kay Sanders. Since I’m the sole representative of Jared’s family, I’m seated with Kay and Maurice so we can represent his side together. Kay is an aspiring model just starting his career; he and Jared met during some photo shoots and have stayed in touch.
The whole experience feels surreal, because Kay and Maurice look like they stepped straight out of a fashion editorial. They’re only eighteen, yet already absurdly beautiful.
My quiet student life rarely puts me in the company of people this ethereally attractive. I shouldn’t be surprised because Jared himself is stunning, but standing there with my slight frame, I feel dwarfed by them, especially Kay, who must be at least six foot one, even a bit taller than Jared. Maurice is a classically gorgeous alpha with flawless features who scans the room constantly, like he’s expecting danger at any moment.
I engage in a bit of small talk with them. Kay isn’t very chatty, always keeping his arm draped over Maurice’s forearm like he only feels comfortable when touching him.
We manage a few casual exchanges, during which Maurice freely throws out comments, criticizing this and that, including the groom. He openly calls him a dyed-in-the-wool politician and a gangster in a suit, saying he’s surprised Jared chose him at all, and when more guests arrive, he adds that Jared invited his so-called ‘buddies’, more gangsters, as he puts it. When Iglance around in confusion, Maurice points out one table where certain… people are sitting.
I freeze.
I recognize one of them.
To my astonishment, it’s Ennio Ferro!
His face rises straight out of my past. This man once helped Bay and me in a way I could never forget. And he never came to collect his debt. It was strangely kind of him.
And of course next to him sits the mafia capo himself, the famous Anzo Ferro, the first beta in history to hold that position.
Maurice keeps muttering curses at them with youthful fervor, saying he hates those thugs because they run brothels where many omegas are kept in illegal prostitution. It’s not surprising he dislikes them, since hardly anyone likes the mafia, but when he declares that all of these people are psychopaths, that getting close to them is like hanging around a tiger that will eventually bite your head off, I timidly offer,
"I think Ennio isn’t quite like that. He handles only the legal side of their operations, and he’s been expanding their family’s real estate development company with huge success. He multiplied its value several times over in a few years."
Maurice and Kay both turn to me with their perfectly sculpted faces, eyebrows raised in surprise, their beauty almost unreal. It’s absurd to be that good-looking, although Bay is the same. That type of person you could stare at forever.
"He still looks the other way when it comes to crime, sexual exploitation in brothels, illegal trafficking, underground fights, drug trade," Maurice says with outrage.
"I know, you’re right," I mutter, "but even then there can be nuances, degrees of darkness. Sometimes people have a second, hidden side that isn’t quite as grim."
"I don’t see many nuances in killers," Maurice declares firmly. For an eighteen-year-old he has a very knightly worldview.
I bite my tongue because, well, I’m a killer too. I took a life, yet I want to believe I’m the kind with some nuance.
