It’s raining. I’m outside. I went outside. Daddy told me not to do that.
What would he do? I hadn’t listened to his orders. I began to pant for air again and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing he was out here with me or that I hadn’t been stupid enough to leave the building. He’d specifically told me not to do this, but I hated the yelling.
I didn’t want to make Daddy punish me.
Everything had been going so well.
Would it be awful now?
Would he hate me because I hadn’t listened?
Would he stop letting me sleep in his room... or something worse? I tugged on my tie until it loosened, then undid the top button of my shirt. If I could get away with it, I would strip off my shirt entirely. I was overheating.
Nearby a lighter flared. It wasn’t exactly dark on the lawn because there were lights around the main house, but there were also a lot of shadows, and I hadn’t noticed anyone. I shrank back against the stones. Toma, the scary man who’d kicked me at the church, stepped away from a nearby tree. There was a cherry glowing on what I thought was a cigar, and the sweet scent of tobacco hit my nose. It smelled good... almost comforting. I had nice memories associated with that aroma.... My grandfather had smoked a pipe sometimes. He died when I was six. I blinked and straightened to my full height as the recollection of a friendly old man with a short white beard and skinny shoulders popped into my head. He always had a dollar for me in his pocket. I swallowed hard as Toma stalked closer.
Damn it, Daddy told me not to go anywhere alone. This was probably why. He was going to be so angry with me. I let out a shaky breath.
Toma stopped and didn’t seem to care too much about the rain dusting diamond drops on his suit. He puffed the cigar and tilted his head.
I bit my lip and wanted to sneak inside, but in a messed-up parody of a dance, he stomped closer when I took a step in that direction.
“Gian left his own family for God. What’s so special about you, huh? How did you pull his head out of the church’s ass?”
I couldn’t decide if he sounded angry or amused because his face was relaxed. He wasn’t hurting me, and I wasn’t in a big hurry to run inside and tell Daddy I’d disobeyed him. I swallowed hard and straightened. “I don’t know what you mean? He’s a priest, he tells me all the time that means.... Well, sometimes he says it means he can’t be with me, but... he is taking care of me.”
Toma smiled. “You sure you don’t know? I think you might. Do you have family? Tell me.”
There was a command in his tone that made me very uncomfortable, and I wanted to snap out an answer for him, but he wasn’t my Daddy. I shivered and shook and decided it was fine to answer. “My mother.”
“What does she think of Gian running around with you?”
Memories poured into my mind like a gushing faucet that had suddenly burst open. Mom had long dark hair like mine, and she had blue eyes, and always said I had her “eye” and laughed about it, telling me I was unique. She loved me. My chest squeezed. “She hasn’t met him. I’m not sure where she is anymore. I was in a bad situation for a long time. I.... Father Gian helped me.”
He snorted. “Figures.”
Something about his snide tone had real anger blazing to life in my belly. “He saved me when I had nowhere else to go. He’s a good man, better than I deserve.”
Toma took a deep drag on the cigar, then laughed. When he paced closer, I slammed back against the wall, forgetting it was behind me. “No, he’s not, but I guess it’s sweet you think so.” He took another step and poked my shoulder. I’d been prepared for the impact to hurt, but it didn’t. “Gian always did like the slim guys.” He poked me again. “Big eyes and little peachy asses. Rescuing was never his style, though.” He practically spit the wordrescuingin my face.
“He’s good to me,” I said, determined not to let him talk bad about Daddy. I didn’t know what was going on, but I did know that I hated this. “He doesn’t hurt me.”
Toma stepped back, puffing on his cigar again, and he shook his head as he pointed at the door. “You go back in there and bat those eyelashes at him.” He smirked. “Let him keep rescuing you. I’ve had enough of that Jesus shit.”
Something about the way he said all that made me feel like he thought Daddy was doing something wrong, and it both made me mad and sad for Daddy in one big confusing swirl that settled like a stone in my gut. If this was Daddy’s family, he sure didn’t need any enemies. I wanted to say something else, but Toma had already hit me once, and Daddy wasn’t here right now, so I counted this as good luck and slunk toward the door, doing exactly as he’d told me to while he studied me with steady, dark eyes that glittered in the shadows.
I took two steps inside and was nearly knocked over by Daddy. He wrapped his arms around me, and his comforting, familiar smell and warmth had me melting against him. One glance at his face sent my stomach plummeting to my toes.
“What were you doing out there? What did I say right before we came in here?” He sounded so upset. He was going to hate me.
Panic smacked me and I didn’t think; I threw my arms around his waist and buried my face against his neck while I shook. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Daddy. Please.”
He said a bunch of things to me, but my heart was hammering too fast, and it was hard to breathe. He said something to someone else, and in less than a minute we were outside again. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but Daddy scooped me up, putting one arm around my back and the other under my legs, and then we were moving. I heard his mother talking, but the words didn’t make much sense.... They were music.
Daddy said “yes” and “I don’t know,” and then there was the music again. As I began to drag deeper breaths into my lungs, I understood that I was hearing another language. Probably Italian. It was nice. Next thing I knew we were inside the big house we’d walked past when we arrived, and his mom was staring at me as Daddy sat down on a couch in a small sitting room with me on his lap. The room was the type of thing I imagined fancy ladies loved—everything was a rose red, and there were roses on the wallpaper. There was even a vase of flowers sitting on a low, glossy wooden table in front of us.
“Keep breathing slowly,” Daddy murmured in my ear.
His mom walked over. She sat beside us and framed my face with her sturdy hands. “You’re going to have to be stronger than this if you want to be with Gian. You can do it, I have faith.” She nodded. “We’ll talk again. You’ll be good for him. I’ll come over and we’ll make more food. My sister did something like this once, and she’s fine now.”
