Without bothering to change into my workout clothes, I head straight for the gym, throwing my shirt onto the floor, and take my anger out on the bag.
Flashbacks of my teachers telling my parents that I couldn’t read hit me hard.
My mom trying and failing to help me read.
Andrey trying to beat the stupid out of me.
Tears of frustration prick my eyes, but I don’t stop hitting the bag.
I can’t.
The only person I’ve ever told I can’t read—besides my brother—laughed at me.
She fucking laughed.
“Matteo—”
“Go away!”
“No. Stop.”
I’m so focused on the bag that I don’t see her slide in between me and the bag, and my fist comes too damn close to hitting her in the face.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I bark, making her flinch. “I could’ve knocked you out.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “But you were scaring me.”
She reaches out and grabs my hands, and it’s then I realize I didn’t wrap them, so they’re cut open and bloody.
“Sit down,” she demands before rushing out the door.
I droponto the floor, my back against the wall, while I try to catch my breath.
A few minutes later, she returns with a first aid kit and sits on the floor in front of me.
“Talk to me, please,” she says as she works on cleaning up my knuckles. “I don’t know what happened in the kitchen. One minute, I was baking and asking you to read me the ingredient and measurement, and the next, you were yelling at me. But I don’t know why.” She glances up at me. “What happened?”
I replay the scene from the kitchen in my head.
Her asking me to read the recipe.
Me telling her I can’t.
Her laughing …
I was so caught up in my own head, thinking she was laughing at the fact that I couldn’t read when she didn’t understand what I was trying to say.
“Matteo, please talk to me,” Dani says, applying a thin layer of ointment to the tops of my knuckles.
“I can’t read,” I whisper.
“What?” Her hands still, and she looks up at me. “What do you mean, you can’t read?”
“You asked me what comes next and how much, and I told you I couldn’t read it.”
Her eyes go wide as she takes in my words. “Oh, Matteo, I … I laughed. But”—she shakes her head—“I didn’t know. I thought you were joking, like the flour was covering it too much. I didn’t think …”
“I know.” I nod. “At the time, I assumed … but now, I know.”
