Black Hearts (Sins Duet #1)

It’s Thursday night and Ben is coming up tomorrow for the weekend.

He wasn’t here the last couple of ones, I know now because he’s been avoiding dealing with it and not because of exams. But he’s finally decided to bite the bullet and face this all head on.

I’m ready for it. I’ve been ready for it since the moment he found out that our parents lied about his birth mother. We need to know why they lied. We need to know what happened to her. Where is Sophia now?

I try not to think the worst.

Then again, I’ve failed hard at that my whole life. Thinking the worst is what I do best.

Tonight I’m hiding out in my room until Vicente is supposed to swing by. I told him to give me some time to work on my project so I can at least get it out of the way before the weekend. I’ve got to come up with poetic captions to go along with the pictures I’ve been taking in the city. At least, I think they should be poetic. Part of the grade is on how well the viewer (the teacher) is supposed to interpret the subject and what I’m trying to say about it before he flips the image over and sees the intent. I’m hoping some flowery prose will win him over if the images don’t.

Only now I wish I had saved the work for tomorrow. I can’t concentrate at all and keep typing out the same thing over and over again, erasing the same damn sentence. It’s the image of the bridge I took while on my first date with Vicente. Where I was supposed to teach him photography, which I now realize was a total crock of shit.

The picture of the bridge is nice though but I’m having trouble expressing what I told Vicente. If I talk too much about the beauty that no one else sees in the world, the more I resemble that creepy guy from the movie American Beauty who keeps filming plastic bags.

It doesn’t help that the vibe in the house is unreal right now. Mom and Dad are on edge. I’m on edge. It feels like we’re all seconds from imploding.

God, I really hope nothing happens before Ben gets here. If I had it out with them, I’m not sure I could keep what I know inside anymore. It’s already eating me alive, every minute of every day.

Vicente is right. This is a house of lies.

I need to make some tea though, some sort of fuel to survive. I take a risk and leave my room, quickly and silently heading down the stairs to the kitchen.

The TV is playing in the living room and assume that’s where my parents are but the moment I turn the corner of the stairs, I see my mom in the kitchen, sitting at the bar, a mug of tea in her hands.

She looks up slowly, eyes all wired and bloodshot.

It’s like she expected me.

“Hey,” I say, trying to make my voice sound as light as possible.

“Hey,” she answers back, trying to match my tone. “How’s the work going?”

“Slow.” I give a forced shrug. “But it’s going.”

“Mmmm,” she says, tapping her nails along the side of the mug.

Something’s coming.

The sound of her tapping speeds up, slows down.

“Are you going out tonight?” she asks. Too innocent. She’s a great liar but innocence was never her strong suit.

“Yeah, I already told you,” I remind her, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice.

“I don’t know. You never said anything.”

I grab the tea from the cupboard and whirl around to face her. “Are you kidding me?”

Tap, tap, tap.

“Mom,” I repeat. “I told you this morning when you dropped me off. That I was finishing up my project then going over to Vicente’s.”

“About that,” my dad says.

I nearly drop the box of tea. He’s standing in the hall with his arms crossed, legs in a wide stance. How long has he been there for?

“Jesus, dad,” I tell him. “What are you guys doing, ganging up on me now?”

“Violet,” Mom warns. “We need to talk to you about something.”

Funny. Very fucking funny, because I need to talk to you about something.

My jaw clenches as I look between the two of them.

“Okay, what?”

They exchange a loaded glance.

My father clears his throat. “Honey, we know you’re going through a difficult time right now and the last thing we want is to upset or overwhelm you. We need you to know how much we care about you and how much we worry.”

“Difficult time?” I repeat. “What would you know about a difficult time?”

“You’re acting strangely,” my mother says. “Ever since you met Vicente.”

I nearly choke on my laughter. “Acting strangely? Do you ever think it’s because I finally have a boyfriend? Someone who I care about. Deeply.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Have you never seen me happy before? Because that’s what this is. I’m happy. I’m finally happy and you know why? Because I have someone who gets me. Fucking gets me. And accepts it. More than accepts it, Vicente loves it.”

Okay, he’s never told me he loves me but still…

“No,” my mother says, staring down at her cup of tea with so much bitterness I think she might cry. “No, I looked into the eyes of that boy and he doesn’t know what love is. That’s not what he wants from you.”

“Holy fuck,” I mutter, pressing my hands into the sides of my temples. “You say I’m nuts, you’re the fucking crazy one.”

“Violet,” my father says sharply. “Your mother is right.”

“Oh sure, always taking her side Why don’t you ever grow a fucking pair, dad, and stand up to her?”

That did it. That was the hit, right in the gut.

As usual though, it gets me in my gut too, to watch my father shatter in front of me like this.

Then it fades as a cold, cold look comes over his eyes, something I’ve never seen before. It scares me. I immediately regret saying anything.

“I do stand up to your mother when I need to,” he says. His voice is brimming with tension. “You have no idea, Violet, just what it takes to make a marriage work.”