Page 23 of Teddy Bear

That idea was something like a life belt for me - a thin straw that I clung to desperately.

Even imaginary, his reciprocated love pulled me up, not allowing me to drown in the murky waters of my even murkier mind.

It was the weekend, and the mother retired to her room, tired of work and the reality that was becoming more and more difficult for her increasingly distant, lost eyes.

The two of us have long since become strangers who shared the same living space, the same eye color and dimples on our cheeks, the same blood, but no more than that.

We did not talk about the dad, nor did we mention him.

After the court, under the influence of Danny's numerous contacts, sentenced him to a year in a closed mental institution (which, I repeat, was a real miracle), we silently considered the case closed and locked it deep in the drawers of our brains.

There was no need to further discuss it.

It was the weekend, and Danny, according to the now-established schedule, stopped by to visit us and bring us groceries.

In addition to groceries, he always brought a variety of restaurant food that he took along the way. Every time, a new restaurant, and every time a new taste.

I loved it. This time it was Mexican.

After we had deliciously eaten the rich, creamy, and crunchy nachos, mum retired with an excuse that she was tired, and that although she would like to spend more time with us, she really needed to rest - she had a very important meeting at work tomorrow. Today, she really wasn't in the mood to talk.

I was left alone with Danny, who, to my surprise, pulled out a bottle of wine from a brown paper bag next to the couch.

-Do you want some, Lizzie?

He poured himself a full glass and waved the bottle of red-brown sinful liquid in front of my nose.

It's been an infinite amount of time since I've tasted a drop of alcohol.

-Okay.

I shrugged and watched as the crystal tall glass filled with the red juice of my desire, which Danny kept pouring on.

I had a feeling that this was not going to end well.

With burning cheeks, looking straight into his calm face, I raised my glass and cheered with him.

-Cheers.

Danny made a toast, and I clumsily and impatiently took a big sip.

I observed the space on the couch, only a few centimeters separating me from him, and thought about what that transition would look like.

Then I shook my head, reminding myself that Danny was my father's best friend - the two literally grew up together.

He looked at me calmly, unhurriedly, somehow making me feel like his patient under merciless expert judgment - and there was something terribly hot about that.

- Am I ready for observation?

I joked, watching his lips move slightly in a measured smile. Every gesture and movement of his face was coldly calculated and absolutely controlled - that fascinated me.

- Well, I think you're very interesting to observe, but not in the way you think anyway. You are a very gifted and quality person, Lizzie. I'm sorry you're going through all this, but I'm sure you'll manage to find yourself again. It takes time.

His voice is also calm and gentle, steady like the murmur of water that, with its disembodied movement, sculpts the same, motionless stone for all eternity.

-It's all my fault.

Against my will, spoken aloud for the first time, these words are snatched from my mouth. I'm shocked to hear them, bouncing off the wooden walls of the cabin and returning back to the cozy and relaxed atmosphere that Danny had carefully built all evening, only for me to ruin it now with a moment of carelessness.