The Sinister Silhouette

“Your father can be very persuasive,” she says with a shrug and a twinkle in her eye.

My lip curls. I know the persuasive ways she’s referring to. Mom and Dad have always been touchy. Not in an inappropriate way in front of us kids, but there’s been plenty of times when Dad would walk up behind her and peck the back of her neck while we were at the table doing homework. The walls were thin in our house, so Mom’s giggles carried from their bedroom into mine and Theo’s. Luckily, they were quieter when they did… other things.

I shudder at the thought of what those “other things” are.

Mom laughs, knowing exactly where my mind went.

“Anyway.” She looks back down to Aria, “I stopped by to put on the spaghetti for your uncle.” She pinches one of her cheeks. “And to see my beautiful Aria for a few minutes.”

I put Goodie’s cage down on the coffee table then go to the kitchen and throw the ice cream in the freezer. “You got time to watch her while I grab a quick shower?”

“Sure, honey. You go right ahead. Aria can show me her latest drawing.”

I leave the two at the small kitchen table, Aria jabbering away about some new friend she made at school, and walk down the short hallway to my bedroom.

Ten minutes later, I’m back in the living room just in time to see Mom setting a bowl of noodles and sauce on the table in front of Aria. She kisses the top of her head, then turns and grabs another plate piled high with spaghetti from the counter, setting it down on the table along with a plate of garlic bread.

“Mom, you didn’t have to make me a plate. I’m thirty-two. I think I can manage.”

She scoffs, as if I’ve lost my mind.

“You’ve worked all day, Luca. If I’m here after you’ve worked all day and there’s food, you best bet I’ll be making your plate. Now, sit. I’ve got to get running or your dad will come hunt me down.”

Now I give her a look that says she’s lost her mind.

“I’ll walk you out. Then I’ll come eat.”

Knowing it’s pointless to argue, because there’s no way I’m letting my mom walk to her car by herself after dark in this neighborhood, she bends to place another kiss to the top of Aria’s head.

“You tell your dad to bring you by this weekend, okay, Aria?”

After slurping a noodle into her mouth, Aria nods. “Okay, Gamma. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetie.”

She grabs her purse off the couch and leads the way to her car. I pull open Mom’s door and she throws her purse to the passenger seat before turning back to me.

“Are you closing down the shop on Thanksgiving?” she asks.

“Would you let me keep it open?”

Her eyes sparkle as she laughs. “As long as you don’t mind the shop being invaded with food and family, then sure, you can keep it open.”

I prop my hand on the top of her car. “Then why even ask?”

“Because I know how much the place means to you, so you should have that option.”

I grunt. Not much of a choice. I have no doubt Mom would transfer all the food into Tupperware containers, lug it all down to the shop, and demand that’s where we’re all eating. Which would defeat the purpose of keeping the doors open. I wouldn’t get shit done.

I lean down and kiss her cheek, then step back from the car. “You already know my answer, Mom. Be safe driving home and have fun on your date.”

She gives me a cheeky grin. “Just making sure.”

I wait until she’s pulling away from the house before going back inside. Aria’s already halfway done with her food, half of which seems to be on her face, by the time I take my own seat.

“Good?” I inquire, picking up my fork.

“The best!” she answers around a mouthful.

I chuckle and dig in. My cooking isn’t bad, but mom’s is the shit. She’s had plenty of years to perfect it. Her own mother was big on food, and she passed that down to her daughter.

Once we’re finished, I load the dishwasher while Aria takes a bath. Hearing her giggles through the partially open door as she plays with her Barbies brings a smile to my face. I always enjoy the time I get to spend with her. I used to want kids when I was younger, but the older I get, the more I realize I don’t want to bring a child into the world I live in. Too much bad shit happens on a daily basis.

“You about done in there?” I yell after the dishes are finished.

“Yes!”

I grab Aria’s ice cream, a spoon, and put both down on the coffee table. Aria comes out minutes later in her long pink nightgown, hair dripping and soaking the material. I put our movie for the night into the DVD player, then take a seat. She hands me the towel and brush before turning and jumping on my lap. It’s always the same when she spends the night. She bathes, then I take care of her hair.

After I drape the towel over her head, I rub vigorously. Aria giggles and hums, making the sound come out distorted. I laugh at her childlike behavior. Once her hair’s as dry as I can get it, I run the brush through the tangles, starting at the ends and working my way up. The braid comes next, and I tie it off with the band wrapped around the brush.

“Thanks, Uncle Luca.”

She hops down from my lap, grabs her ice cream, and climbs back up beside me. I prop my feet up on the coffee table and get comfortable.

“Don’t forget the blanket. You know the ice cream will make you cold.”

She pulls the blanket off the end of the couch and starts arranging it around herself. My heart warms when she puts a section over my lap down to my knees.

“You gotta have some too.”

Even though I don’t need it, I let her do her thing. Aria is a very caring little girl, and there’s no way I would disturb that trait by telling her I’m fine without it.

I wait patiently until she’s finished and settled against my side before dropping my arm to her shoulders and tugging her closer to me. She opens her carton of ice cream and puts the lid on the blanket beside her.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Grabbing the remote off the arm of the couch, I press Play and settle in for a night of short orange people, bratty children, and rivers of chocolate.





CHAPTER SIX


Luca



I STEP OUT OF THE elevator and take the short walk to Jules’s room. It’s earlier than when I’ve been visiting, but I’m due on shift in a couple of hours, and I felt a sudden urge to see her after the dream I had last night. It ended with her screaming again, and it tore my insides to hear it.

I walk into the quiet room to find Jules partially on her right side, facing the door. Instead of her hair being in the normal braid, the thick mass is loose and resting on the pillow. Someone took the time to brush it.

My eyes scan the room as I walk over to the bed and take a seat on the chair sitting close by. Her nightgown is different than the last time I was here. She’s now in a soft peach-colored one with ruffles on the sleeves and lace across the collar.

Seeing the hand that doesn’t have the catheter lying close to her side, palm facing up, I lean forward and trace the inside of her fingers. Again, I’m met with a zing of awareness.

Lifting my eyes, I look at her closed ones.

“Hi, Jules,” I state softly, and watch for any signs she’s heard me. When there’s not even a twitch of her eyelashes, I continue. “I’m Luca. You don’t know me, but you’ve been coming to me in my dreams for years now, and I don’t know why.”

I pull in a deep breath and roughly blow it out. This is the first time I’ve spoken to her. Or rather, the first time I’ve spoken to her while awake. I always know in my dreams they aren’t real, but this right here is. She’s so real I can actually touch and smell her.

“You always ask me where I am and to help you, but I don’t know what you want me to do. How am I supposed to help you? And why is it my dreams that you visit?”

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