I shrug a shoulder.
“Called your parents? Called Drew?”
I shake my head. I don’t know. I know they’ve called. I’ve seen the countless messages but I switched off my phone a few days ago.
“Drew called me this morning. Said you haven’t been to school.”
“I don’t think school matters right now.”
“Well, it does.” He shifts his gaze to the parchment, steps closer to get a better look. Gives a shake of his head. “Fucking Sergio. Leave it to him to draw a fucking graveyard.”
When he reaches out to touch it, I put my hand out, stop him.
He looks at me. “Have you been outside since the funeral?”
“What are you doing here? Why do you have a key?”
“Because my brother made me promise something. One thing. If anything happened.”
Fuck. I’m going to lose it again.
Salvatore sits down, and a darkness shadows his features. “He called me one night after you two had met and told me if anything happened to him that I was to take care of you. Make sure you were okay.”
“He did?”
Salvatore nods.
“I think he knew. I know he did.” I say through sobs and tears. “He told me once that time was a luxury. One that he wouldn’t have.”
“Yeah, well, you know Sergio.”
Knew. Not know. Sergio is no longer present. He can never be spoken of in the present tense again.
“He was always a little dramatic,” Salvatore continues when I don’t speak.
He’s trying to make light of it. “Yeah. I guess.”
“What are you doing in here in the dark?”
“I have to finish it.”
“Finish what?”
I point to the place below Sergio’s name. Just beneath his box. The day of his birth. The dash. The empty space.
Salvatore nods. He stands and comes around the desk. “Let me do it.”
I roll my chair away. I let him. And I watch when he takes up the pencil and writes in the date.
He stares at it for a while and I look at him. At Salvatore Benedetti.
He’ll take Sergio’s place now. Next in line to rule.
Next in line to die?
“Do you ever get scared?” I ask.
He shifts his gaze to me.
