[[[Apparently this LiveJournal just turned 5 years old! wtf. i've been working on this series way too long.]]]
x-x-x
"Clo's still gone?" I asked Izaak as I emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and wrapped up in one of his gigantic fluffy towels, hair still dripping.
"She says she's working on art school applications," he said, not looking up from his laptop.
My arms folded. "She didn't even have the decency to tell me she was applying to art school!" I grumbled, wondering what facts I even knew about her.
"Get dressed. Let's go out to dinner."
"Without her?"
Izaak closed his laptop and set it aside, standing and coming towards me. "I invited her, but she said she's already eaten. But I'm sure you've noticed, when she gets stressed, her eating habits become an issue."
"What does she have to be stressed about?" I sarcastically wondered aloud, hoping he'd give me intel to help with my case.
Nope. "You like Greek food?"
"Sure," I said as he walked past me towards the bathroom for his own shower. "Way to ignore my question..." I called after him as he reminded me to get ready and slammed the door almost in my face.
Oh well, maybe I could get some info from him at dinner.
I stalked off towards the bedroom and ran the towel through my hair, then brushed away the tangles (a hairbrush's proper use!). I finished drying off and dug around my overnight bag, finding matching white panties and bra, along with my grayish-lavender dress. Before getting dressed, I turned to check out my bottom in the mirror, tracing my fingertips over the fading bruises and cane marks. There was a darker circle right on the edge of my butt cheek and thigh, begging for me to poke it. I winced at the pain, loving every second of it.
Finally I put on my underwear, then reached for the dress, its lavender fabric speckled with tiny gray dots, and pulled it over my head. The material felt soft against my skin as it slid down, snug around my waist and hips. I adjusted the short sleeves on my shoulders, noticing how the pale colors contrasted with the deeper tones of my skin and hair.
Then, I bent down to grab my black boots. They were heavy, sturdy, and the dark leather looked striking against the soft tones of the dress. I slid my feet into my socks first, then the boots, lacing them up tightly, and noticed how the rich black stood out even more with my socks peeking out just above the tops, a simple charcoal gray. Straightening up, I smoothed the dress one last time, the subtle lavender-and-gray pattern blending softly with my movements, and felt ready for whatever the evening had in store.
x-x-x-x
The Greek restaurant was only a few blocks away, so we walked side by side, me babbling on about all the places I wanted to travel (Greece included) as I ignored the nagging feeling in my gut reminding me that I was technically homeless (even dreaming about vacation made me feel guilty). Izaak even told me a bit about his own worldly experience — born in Egypt, childhood in Holland, a few trips in Europe sprinkled in there (Germany and Poland), and finally some time spent in Afghanistan and Japan while he was in the military. I guess I was too argued out from the day, because I didn't even get into it about politics. I was really just more curious about Izaak as a person, realizing I didn't even know that much about him.
The sun was setting as we arrived to the bustling restaurant. There was a short wait, but eventually we were ushered to a small round table with a white polyester tablecloth and handed a leather-bound menu.
"Wow, fancy," I commented as I took the seat across from my friend.
"Remember last time we went to a restaurant together?" (https://violetesperanza.livejournal.com/62430.html)
My cheeks reddened in shame as I nodded. "God, I'm sorry about that," I said, remembering how I'd called him sexist, poked fun at his religion and career, and ordered extra dessert out of spite. "I was such an ass."
Izaak actually laughed. "Yeah, you were. I would have never guessed we'd still be in touch after that fiasco."
I smiled. "Thanks to Molly."
"Also thanks to you. It would've been easy to just dismiss it as a bad meeting. But you knew she and I would get along."
"Yeah, well, Molly needed someone like you back then." And maybe now, too, I thought, remembering how off she'd seemed yesterday. But instead of bringing it up, I changed the subject. "So you and Clo. How'd you meet? How'd she end up here?"
"We met in college." [[did I write this conversation already? 🤔 ]]
"Was it love at first sight?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "Chloe is like a sister to me."
I wanted to make a crack about the personal info Clo had shared with me (them getting intimate), but for once I decided not to. I had too much other shit I wanted to know about, which took the priority to making him super uncomfortable in public (but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have to think really hard about it before deciding to go with my original line of questioning). "But then you moved here? Were you guys still in touch?"
Judging from the way he subtly shifted in his seat and glanced at the menu, I guess I made him uncomfortable anyway. "We tried to stay in touch. She was busy working and taking care of her elderly grandmother. Do you know what you want to eat?"
I raised my eyebrows. "Order for me," I dared.
He glanced up at me over the menu with a look that said seriously?
"What kind of work was Clo doing back then? Not receptionist-type stuff, I'm guessing. She will say herself that she ain't cut out for it."
Izaak finally closed the menu and leaned in. "Why are you asking so many questions about Chloe?"
"Just curious," I shrugged. "Would you rather me pry into your life? Like why did you leave Egypt to live in Holland? And why do you have a Polish name?"
He paused, staring me down, waiting just long enough for the server to come over and take our order. He rattled off a few Greek dishes I'd never heard of, then ordered us each a glass of wine, which surprised me. I didn't know he ever drank!
When we were alone in our bubble again, Izaak looked at me, admiring my ability to stay silent rather than fire the other millions of questions in my mind. "My parents were murdered," he said finally, pausing for effect. I almost fell out of my chair. "It wasn't safe for me to stay in Egypt with my given name, so I was sent to live with my aunt, whose husband was Polish, so they renamed me to blend better into their family."
"Do you ever wanna go back? To Egypt?"
He shrugged. "Maybe one day."
"Take me with you. And I'll take you with me to my hometown in Mexico where you can meet my crazy deported mom." I paused to think for a moment, wanting to return his vulnerability with a deep, dark secret of my own, but kept coming up short. He probably already knew them all, either from shit I'd shared at family meetings, or hearing about it from Molly. "Anything you want to know about me?"
It's like he had the question on the tip of his tongue. "How and why did you get involved with that gangster ex-boyfriend of yours?"
"Oh jeez, Andy. How did that happen?" No matter how much I had discussed it in therapy, and with Toby and Molly, my involvement with Andy was still a mystery. "I was a dumb teenager. He was a cool musician. I hated authority and he was the perfect picture of anti-authority. And honestly, he was the only person who'd made me feel special anymore. My parents were gone, Vic was busy with college, my hormones were raging. Andy filled a void."
Izaak was silent for a moment, taking it all in. "Why is he still in your life? Should I be worried?"
Something about the way he asked it made my chest fill up with warm fuzzies. Did Izaak actually care about me? "I don't think there's much need to worry," I said, noticing a pull in my gut, reminding me of Andy's warning Your girl got us in shit, robbin’ Chucho and callin’ the cops. What’s her name? Chloe Peterson or somethin’? [[chapter 20]]. I debated whether I should tell Izaak, finally dismissing it as nothing. "He thinks he's tougher than he actually is. All because he and his cousin smuggle coke up from Latin America. One day he'll get caught and rot in jail."
"Do you still have feelings for him?"
I shrugged, ready to turn the questions back on him. "Right now I feel like I don't want to even think about him."
No comments:
Post a Comment