She dips her head, causing the silver bun on her head wobble.
“Well.. two days ago, I saw him again. His name is, Kent. He was in the booth with my uncle at Benny’s, right before we were supposed to meet for breakfast. I saw them but they didn’t see me. Then, Kent left in a hurry, looking very displeased.”
Andrea’s nose scrunches up and for once… I’ve rendered her speechless.
“That wasn’t even the weirdest part… my uncle seemed irritated when I told him I was positive that Theo DID NOT kill himself. He all but growled at the waitress when she tried to take our order. We didn’t even eat! He just told me I was silly and should have left with my parents when I had the chance. Then he left, just like that.”
Andrea’s cheeks puff out, leading up to a long-drawn-out exhale. Leaving no stone unturned and accounting for Dax’s cryptic message, we add the wordUncle.Right underneath the other names which don’t appear to relate to anything.
My stomach twists, seeing his name up there, next toOfficer Fucking KentandCreepy Craig. It might as well be a puzzle piece that’s been soaking in water and is now expected to fit within this monochromatic puzzle. Somehow, this is all a part of a bigger picture… I just can’t seem to figure out where anything goes.
Reviewing the board for the hundred-millionth time, I notice something I hadn’t realized before. Something within the word“Lombardi”written in loopy, cursive lettering along the top. Standing before the whiteboard, I uncap a marker. As if I’m before one of those ‘depth perception pictures,’ the longer I stare at it, the letters become almost 3D. Popping out to me. Showing me the hidden message.
I begin to circle letters within the name,“Lombardi.” M-A-R-Iare now circled in purple. My hand shakes, causing the marker to fall from my grasp as I take a staggering step back. “Holy shiitake!” My last name is right there! Burrowed within the confines of the name Lombardi!
I don’t even realize Andrea is next to me. One minute she’s at the table and the next, she’s in front of me. She bends down and picks up the marker I dropped on the floor. She has a rueful look about her, the corner of her eyes wrinkle, while a vague frown flattens her lips.
“Come… sit down, Cindel.” Her words are soft but firm.
This isn’t the moment to object but to brace for something unexpectant. The ringing in my ears is already at a solid five; as I’m guided to the couch, the volume escalates to an ear-splitting pitch.
My roommate doesn’t sit, instead she remains before me, pacing the length of the room. It’s like watching a tennis match with one player and no ball. “There’s something you should know.”
Here’s where she would normally pause and allow me to respond, but she doesn’t, instead she rolls right into the topic as if it’s too heavy to hold back any longer. She rambles, her gait has me agitated already.
For starters, she affirms how my family is all she has. Her sloppy hands move about expressively, all without making actual words but expressing overwhelming emotion. This makes following along increasingly difficult.
Next, her babblings become profound lectures… touching on ‘tough decisions’ and ‘hard truths’ in life, all of her statements are vague and unclear. Honestly, it’s come to the point that I’m unable to figure out what the Sam hell she’s going on about.
“Andrea,” I try to interrupt, but she persists with her info dumping. I strain to listen and even still I can only process every other word she says.
Wait… did she say… Mafia?
“Andrea,” I say again, but it’s like I’m not even here, as she tries to race through all the things she has to relay. Even though I’m actively trying to listen, watching her mouth, while using context clues… fragmented words tumble out like… hiding, safe, and… bomb.
My temples are throbbing and I’m beyond overwhelmed. I’ve had enough! Stepping up onto the coffee table, I scream, “Andrea!”
Her mouth remains open, but the words have finally ceased. Horizontal lines appear across her forehead and it’s almost as if she just realized that I am present too. Tears well on the bottom of her lids.
I lower myself from the table. “I don’t understand. Please slow down and look at me when you speak, for crying out loud!”
She blinks as twin tears roll down each of her cheeks. Shit. I can likely count on one hand how many times I’ve seen Andrea cry. I want nothing more than to console her and tell her it will be okay, but that’s not what’s happening here. This egregious display is because she has something big to share. I just don’t know what that is…
Using the corner of her shirt sleeve, Andrea dabs the wetness from her face. Her head tips back as she looks up to the ceiling, before proceeding to shake out her arms as if warming up for something that could prove exerting. Schooling her features, her next words were utterly impassive.
“Cindel… you are a Lombardi. You're effectively a Mafia princess.”
Icy pin pricks blanket my face, and the room suddenly begins to sway back and forth. Not wanting to hit the floor, I lower myself back onto the sofa until the world stops spinning.
She continues, “everything changed after the hit against your family.”
I feel like I am aboard a boat, bobbing and swaying in an unforgivable sea of uncertainties. After extensive moments of practiced inhales matched with slow exhales, I ask the most obvious question. “What hit?”
She crouches before me, meeting me at eye level before speaking to ensure I hear her response. “Remember the…” Her lips draw to the side, and I know precisely what triggering words she's trying to avoid. “Remember the day you lost your hearing?”
My eyes blink rapidly. There’s no need to answer the rhetorical question. How could I ever forget? The infernal ringing in my ears, hearing aids, and recurring nightmares act as a constant reminder of the event. Ironic how the deafening sound, in the aftermath, is the only thing I can hear without my aids.
“It wasn’t an accident,” I state matter-of-factly.
