She bites her lip and looks towards me, then nods.
“Why?”
“I already told you, I was excited to get away and try something new. I felt like I was just waiting around for something to happen. To get married, really—my family didn’t hide that this would be expected from me.”
“So, you killed time by winning division one tennis matches and staying busy twenty-four seven?”
She snorts. “Pretty much. It’s strange. I had it easy, knowing that I’d never have to fend for myself or worry about money. But I couldn’t rest and have fun with life like my sister does, although she has too much fun. It’s like I always have to be doing something, improving at something, or else my mind eats away at itself.”
I pull her closer to me so that she’s flush against me. I’m not trying to have sex with her—not now, anyway. I realize that I truly wanted her close to me just because. I rub her arm, feeling the soft skin over the defined muscles. This closeness feels so natural to me, which, strangely, feels unnatural because my guard is up all the time.
“Everyone hated me when I was young because of that. No one likes an overly-competitive perfectionist with anger issues on the playground.”
I snort, assuming that what she’s saying is a gross exaggeration. Then I feel her shoulders sag and something shift in the room—I made a mistake.
I don’t know why I have every impulse to avoid an apology, turn around, and force myself to sleep, but I fight that impulse with every fiber of my being.
“I’m sorry. I found that difficult to believe, so I laughed.” I stroke her arm. “Was it serious?”
I relax when she answers me—I didn’t completely screw everything up. “For a few years, yeah. I didn’t have any friends, and everyone made fun of me all the time. I know that’s nothing compared to what you went through, but…”
“It’s still horrible,” I say.
“Yeah.”
I wasn’t expecting this. I unfairly pictured Sofia’s life as perfect and easy. But while they don’t compare to the things I’ve gone through—most people would lose that competition—she’s suffered from loneliness in childhood, loss from her oldest brother going to prison, the other various oddities that come from growing up in a family entrenched in organized crime.
“I would escape in my mind all the time when I was young,” I say, surprised at the words coming out of my mouth. “Making up stories in my head where I was powerful and loved by everyone. And of course, Marco was always dead or never existed.” My heart pounds in my chest almost as much as it did when I plunged my thumbs into Marco’s eye-sockets. I thought I would take what I’m saying to her to the grave, and I can’t believe I’m blurting all of this out loud. “Then eventually I withdrew to the point I didn’t want to leave my head. I didn’t want to talk to anyone or try to get close. Just kept to myself. To my hobbies, interests, and imagination.”
Now, Sofia is the one rubbing my arm as it rests around her. I hope she can’t feel how hard my heart is pounding. It’s embarrassing how much stress it’s causing me to tell her these things. I continue stroking her hair. Her warm, soft body next to me gives me an indescribable feeling. It calms me, and I appreciate that she’s staying quiet right now to give me some time. Cuddling feels foreign to me. It’s something I haven’t really done since I was a young child. But being with Sofia right now, it’s like breathing or eating. Her closeness feels like a primal need.
“I don’t know,” I continue babbling. “Maybe it’s better off for society that I retreat into my head like this. Lock myself away all the time. I’m a monster, really…”
“I don’t think you are.”
I laugh. “You don’t have to lie.”
“Do you enjoy hurting others? Or did you do what you had to in order to survive?”
I enjoyed killing Marco this afternoon, but that’s one of the few times I’ve ever enjoyed it. Usually I try to forget as quickly as possible, burying myself in hobbies and distractions afterwards.
“To survive.”
“Then you’re not a monster.”
Her words have a surprising effect, almost as if she’s a priest who has absolved me of all of my sins, and I feel my body relax.
“Thank you.” My words come out so faintly that I’m not sure she even heard me.
We both go silent for a while, and she hits the light.
“You’re in charge now, Alessandro. You don’t have to do those things anymore.”
I’m certainly not done with violence in this position—and I’m sure she’s aware of that. But I know what she means. The depravity that Marco commanded is no longer a requirement for my life.
I’m in charge.
Those words should give me more peace than they do.
