“Yes, sir.”
“Come to the house. Let’s talk in person.”
TWENTY-THREE
WHO IS TROY?
Lake
The concept of “Sunday scaries”relies on the fact one dislikes, or at least dreads, their job. This means the person spends their Sunday feeling uneasy over the upcoming work week. It’s a type of anxiety I’ve never experienced during my travel writing job or during the weeks I’ve spent teaching Leo.
This doesn’t mean I don’t worry today. My worry comes from other sources. Such as Alessio and Antonio’s phone call, which Alessio took into the office.
He’s sitting behind the desk, the phone glued to his ear, his blue eyes fixed on me.
The night Alessio and I hooked up, Antonio was the bartender who took me home from the hotel. He’s the man Alessio tasked with my care. Just hearing his name gave me anxiety because Antonio saw me walk into my apartment.
I know this because I waved at him before I went inside. This means he knows I didn’t get mugged on the street. Luckily for me, during my homeless beach days on the island, I catastrophized several scenarios of how Alessio would call me out on my bullshit, and one of the scenarios I had to find an answer for was Antonio’s time with me.
What if Alessio asked Antonio what happened? I came up with the lie that I dropped something and had to go back to look for it, and that’s when I got mugged, and if they called me out on it for whatever reason, I would admit that people broke into my hotel room and threatened me. This would be an ideal answer since it’s the truth, but I fear the line of questioning that would come next.
Unfortunately for me, I’m not an expert in covert operations or lying this much with stakes as high as my uncle’s life and likely the lives of many other people.
Oh God, my poor uncle. Briefly, I close my eyes and pray he’s alive.
“Hey, Lake, you okay?” Leo asks.
I smile. “I’m fine. Perfect. I’m sorry I was late for class this morning.”
“It’s okay.”
“You should call me Ms. Wilder.”
“I don’t want to.”
I throw an arm over his shoulders and pull him closer. “Why not?”
“Because I like saying your name. It’s so cool.”
“Thanks, buddy. I like my name too.”
Leo props his chin on his hand. “Who named you?”
“My dad. He and my mom conceived me during a camping trip at Lake Tahoe, which is a lake in Northern California. Do you remember where California is?” One of my major assignments as a governess is teaching Leo US geography and history. Alessio will send Leo to the States for education and wants him to know everything there is to know about it. Alessio himself is a Fort North graduate.
Since the Fort is a military academy, I thought it only accepted US citizens, but upon doing some research, it turns out that foreign nationals can enroll if they’re sent by their governments. Fort North accepts about a hundred international students each year and charges five times the amount they charge a US citizen for tuition, and so a large part of the school’s funding comes from friendly, wealthy foreigners.
“California is on the West Coast of America,” Leo announces as if at a recital. “The body of water it’s on is called the Pacific Ocean, and it’s very cold compared to the Mediterranean. It has waves this tall.” Leo stands up on his seat and raises his hand above his head, his face glowing. “People ride the waves there. It’s a sport called surfing.” He sits back down and whispers, “Maybe one day, when I’m big, I will go to California and learn how to surf.”
“That sounds fun,” I say, though I bet his uncle won’t think so.
“Do you surf?”
I shake my head. “I’m not a great swimmer. I’d probably drown.”
Leo laughs. “I’m a good swimmer. Even faster than Troy when she raced me in the pool.”
I clear my throat. “Troy?”
