The warmth of a jacket covers my shoulders. I look around and see my mother standing in a long, tan winter jacket.
“You don’t want to catch a cold,” she says.
I can tell that she was waiting patiently for me to reply.
“I had the doors done over and the interior,” she says.
“You should have burnt it down to the ground,” I reply, feeling an age-old rage rising in me.
“Roman, I can…”
“I am going to get ready. I don’t want to be late for our happy family dinner.” I shrug my jacket off, letting it fall to the floor.
“Roman,” she calls out to me. I continue walking.
“Roman Voss, you stop right there!” she shouts in that motherly tone that makes you stop no matter your age.
I hear the crunch of the gravel as she approaches my side.
“Whether you like it or not, I am your mother.”
I look down into her eyes. “I can’t ever forget. That’s why I stick to the rules so I will never be like you.”
The slap burns my cheeks. We both remain silent. I rub the side of my face.
“I am sorry, Roman.” My mother’s hands tremble at her mouth; her eyes fill with tears.
Rage bubbles inside me, but a good man is always in control of his emotions. My jaw tightens as I walk away. I don’t bother to look back when I hear her crying. It wouldn’t be the first time I walked away from her while she was in tears.
Chapter four
RULE #2: Be on time or don’t come at all.
NOELLE
I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but being wrapped in these warm soft blankets and the fluffy pillow, I don’t want to wake up.
But Roman had other plans. The bed shakes like I am experiencing an earthquake.
“Wake up, you are about to be late.” It sounds like a low command.
I groan into the pillow. “Five more minutes.”
“Fuck it,” he murmurs.
I smile onto the pillow because he gives up on me. But I’m wrong. The sheet, the blanket, the pillows, and I all tumble down to the carpeted floor.
I sit up, surrounded by pillows, a blanket, and a beige sheet over my head. I begin to fight with the sheet, and for somereason, I can’t get from under it. My fingers scrape against the soft material as I’m trying to get out. Panic begins to set in.
“Roman, get me out.” I become frantic; my lungs tighten. “GET ME OUT.”
The walls of the sheet feel like they’re closing in. Suppose I am stuck in here forever and I die.
“GET ME OUT NOW!”
The sheet is lifted from my head and thrown to the side.
“Hey, hey.” Roman sits beside me, pulling me by my shoulder. “I’m sorry. Hey.”
