Ody turned to him. “Why should I? You never tell me anything. When I asked about your tattoos, you said nothing. When I asked about your parents, nothing. What happened to you at the cinema, what they did to you in high school, nothing. You haven’t told me a thing.”
“Okay, no need to attack me. I just asked,” Mano replied, looking straight ahead.
Ody blinked. He had expected Mano to snap back, not stay composed.
Mano pulled the seat belt across his chest and clicked it in. Ody shifted into gear, and they drove toward the apartment building in silence.
When they reached Mano’s place, Ody turned to him. “Thanks for coming with me today.”
“No problem.” Mano unbuckled his seat belt and reached for the door, but Ody’s voice stopped him.
“I’ll tell you. But you have to promise me something.”
“That I answer your questions in return? I can’t—”
“No.” Ody cut him off. Mano frowned, unsure what he wanted. “Promise me you’ll stop calling me a scaredy-cat.”
Mano stared at him. That was it? That was what mattered to him? “Okay.”
“Promise.”
The words echoed in his mind, his father’s voice clear as ever. “When we make a promise, we keep it.”
“I promise,” Mano said.
Ody let out a breath. “It’s a long story.”
“Come upstairs,” Mano said, stepping out of the car. He headed for the building entrance, then noticed Ody was still sitting inside. “You coming?”
Ody finally stepped out, locked the car, and followed him upstairs.
When they walked in, Mano shut the door behind them. “Want something to drink?”
“No, thanks.”
“Have a seat.” Mano gestured to the living room. Ody sat on the couch, and Mano joined him, waiting.
Ody took a breath. “Three years ago, when I was eighteen, I had a motorcycle accident.”
Mano’s eyes widened. Ody’s reluctance to ride made sense. And Mano realized how much of a jerk he’d been about it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ody stared ahead, lost in the memory. “I was in Patra with my cousin. He’s two years older. We were coming back from a basketball game. His favorite team was playing.”
Mano stayed quiet, studying him.
“He wasn’t speeding,” Ody added quickly. “But he missed a stop sign at an intersection. We were talking, and—” He shut his eyes. “A car was coming. He braked, but we still got hit… I was thrown from the bike. Thank God we were both wearing helmets.”
Mano felt a cold pressure in his chest.
“It was winter. We were wearing layers, but when I hit the road, it hurt everywhere. My sweatpants tore, my legs scraped, but my shirt…” He exhaled. “It rode up. The skin under my ribs split.”
Mano closed his eyes, his jaw tightening.
“I remember lying there and seeing my blood on the road. The driver called an ambulance. My cousin had scrapes that healed fast, but I needed stitches.”
Mano swallowed hard, shame settling over him. He’d made fun of him for asking him to slow down.
“I went to the hospital. My parents came; they were terrified. But I healed. That was it.” Finally, Ody turned and met Mano’s gaze.
