“I’m sorry about your mom and brother,” I whisper, slipping my bare legs under the covers of my bed to try and chase away the chill that fills my bones. I know exactly what it’s like to have your father figure tear down the members of your family. For it to change who you are at a cellular level.
“Where is he now?” I ask, surprisingly concerned for the man whom I’d thought I hated just a few weeks ago.
“Six feet under. I would’ve done it myself if I could have. I couldn’t have him hurting anyone else.” His voice is harsh and sharp.
“Good.” The severe response leaves me on instinct, surprising the young, naive girl who still lives somewhere in the recesses of my head.
“So vicious, Little Menace.” I can hear the smile in his voice through the phone, and his voice curls around me like the softest blanket on a cold night.
“People like that—they don’t change.” My throat works around a rough swallow of emotion. “They push and punch until everything around them suffers in forgotten silence.”
“Who did that to you?”
The question cuts so sharply through the open wounds in my chest, curling around my organs in protective aggression.
“Cassandra, please tell me who I need to hurt, baby.” This time, his voice comes out in a plea, and the endearment makes my stomach swim with butterflies.
I’ve never really had anyone want to fight my battles before. Strange emotions flood my system, giving me an odd sense of security. Sophia has always been my sounding board of reason, willing to help me logic myself out of any situation, but having someone who wants to fight irrationally on my behalf is so new. So fucking vindicating.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you some other time, okay?” I try to hide the emotion from my voice, not ready to open that box quite yet. “I’m really glad you made it through all of that, Mikhail. It takes a lot to be the one who keeps living.”
“My mom managed to survive it, but…” He trails off, clearing his throat. I wait quietly for him to continue. “She’s different now. I think losing my brother broke her in a way that can’t be fixed.”
I inhale sharply, sympathy pouring into me for the two of them. “I’m so sorry. No child should have to watch their parents change likethat.” I wish I could wrap my arms around him and offer the physical comfort one can’t provide over the phone. “Do you still see her?”
“I do my best to stop in from time to time, but it can be difficult. I don’t always know if I’m a pleasant surprise or just a reminder of our past.”
“I’m sure some part of her lights up from recognizing your presence, no matter what emotions it might bring up.”
“She’d love you.”
“What?” I gasp, a dangerous smile shaping my lips.
“She would steal you from me in an instant, try to whisper embarrassing childhood stories in your ear.”
“Oh, well, now I have to meet her, don’t I?” The teasing words draw a playful smirk.
“I’ll be visiting her on Tuesday. Would you like to come?”
The offer takes me aback.Where is the man who blew off every single personal question on our date?I’m so damn shocked by the openness, the hopeful intonation of his words, that I stutter before answering.
“Y-yes. Sure.”
“Goodnight, Cassandra. Sleep well.”
The second the call ends, my body physically aches at the absence of his voice. The shock of what I’ve agreed to zips through my nerves. Did I just agree to meet his mother?Did Mikhail really just offer me that intimate honor?
The details I learned about his family’s demise also fill my head, bringing a familiar pang of sadness. Who can maintain their humanity through an event like that? And yet, Mikhail is still showing up for me in the tiny ways I’m allowing him; bunches of my favorite flowers, driving me home from school on icy roads.
I don’t even know how to think about him anymore.
Without Mikhail on the line, my room feels dark and empty, ice stretching into each divet of my sheets. A tingle of nerves wracks its way down my spine. There’s something else I need to do tonight, but I’ve never wanted to do anything less.
Artificially filling myself with a false sense of bravery, I peel back the blankets and press the soles of my feet to the cool tiles. The closet doors loom in front of me like a gateway to my own personal hell, the darkness of night accentuating their terrifying effect.
My chest aches, desperately trying to accommodate the pumping mess inside that only increases in intensity with every step I take.
It’s just a stupid closet,I tell myself, wrapping my hand around the grooves of the handle. I remind myself of what Sophia told me on my first try. My brain is just making a mistake, but it’s still trying to protect me. It’s not the enemy, it’s just confused.
