She stared down at me, as though she had to see me to make sure I was still there, before turning back to her parents. Silhouettes moved behind her occasionally.
Placing my boot between two front bushes, I pushed down, leaving a print in the mud. I glanced back at the window, but no sight of her.
Back at the stone building, I had a choice between an ancient ax and a new chainsaw. The ax felt right in my hands, old and worn, but still as sharp as new. I hacked at the fallen cypress, feeling the weapon as though it was an extension of my arm. The thrill of it tingled up my fingers, over my wrist, to my bicep, all the way to my shoulder blades and middle back. Despite the cold, perspiration came with effort, with thickness of tension and pent-up things that fought to stay within.
“Brando!” Judging by Romeo’s face, he had tried calling me before.
I wiped my sleeve against my head, letting the ax rest against the tree.
Violet marched past him, stopping when her boot met the fallen body. “Tell me you didn’t.”
I looked at the tree and kicked it. The green branches shimmied, rain splattering from its fallen corpse. “I didn’t. The storm did.”
“Don’t be a smart ass, Brando.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. I wasn’t in a guessing mood.
“Pnina,” she said, returning the stare. Her nostrils flared with irritation.
“Pnina,” I repeated.
“Shewasyour friend of a friend?”
The look on my face forced her to continue.
“The entire house knows now. Pnina told Scarlett. How could you do that to her? Knowing how she treated her, how controlling she was, and you gave her the power to—”
“Brando!” Eunice ran out of the door, her flats sinking and squashing in the mud, but she trudged ahead, out of breath. “You—” she panted “—better—” she took a deep breath and released it in a gush “—get inside!”
I ran past them both, dodging Romeo and ignoring Tito, who bellowed, “She does not need this stress!”
The shouts met me downstairs, only growing louder the closer I got to our room. Scarlett paced the floor. Sweat dripped from her head. Everett paced with her, two arms hovering, afraid she might fall over. Pnina’s back was to the balcony doors, hands together, her face set in determination.
“Talk some sense into her!” Pnina pleaded.
I stopped dead in my tracks when my wife turned to me, eyes afire, hands clenched at her sides. “My mother was your friend of a friend?”
“Sit down,” I said, coming to my senses.
She refused, shaking her head. Her face went white and she tilted a bit. I went to help her, to steady her in my arms, but she slapped at me. Everett gave a nod and took over, guiding her back to the bed.
“Was she?” Scarlett said, eyes closed.
“Yeah.”
“All those times you refused to tell me,” she muttered to herself. “All those effing times! And it was my mother. She was in control of that too!” She laughed quietly, bitterly, to herself.
“You were fifteen, Scarlett. Tell me what you expected me to do.”
She was nothing but a kid. Without her parents’ blessing, we would’ve had to sneak around and hide from the world. I wasn’t willing to do that. And I wasn’t willing to allow her mother to send her away, too fucking far from me—if she felt Scarlett was losing focus because of our relationship. She had sent her away for lesser issues. I would’ve never complicated her life that way either. I was too attracted to her. There was no way that I would’ve refused her. She had something buried deep inside of her that I needed to live.
“Fifteen?” she whispered. She opened her eyes and glared at me. “My mother knew? You talked to her about—me? That’s when it started?”
“She knew before, but we had a talk when you were sixteen.”
She turned the glare on her mother. “You stopped him from—! Oh God! Knowing how miserable I was!”
Her mother said something in Slovenian. Scarlett answered in the same language. The two started to shout right after. Everett looked at me and shrugged. He knew a few phrases, but like myself, he had never grasped the language entirely.
