Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
The agony of that lost moment in time steals the oxygen from my lungs and makes me freeze. It isn’t until Natalia gently touches my shoulder, and I glance down at her concerned expression, that I realize time has passed. I’ve been oblivious to my surroundings, dragged back to the past, and it’s the strangest feeling. I can’t remember the last time I had such a vivid recollection of my mother.
My eyes collide with the woman in front of me at present. For the briefest of moments, I consider if my mother would have liked her. Then, I try to forget the idea entirely. I reach down and seize the comforter and then walk over to the art display, grabbing one of the colorful pieces as well. I can feel Natalia’s gaze on me as we head for the checkout, but I decide it’s best not to acknowledge her. The sooner I can get her back to the house, the sooner I can forget this ever happened.
7
Natalia
The next two weeks pass in a blur of racing from one activity to another. I’ve always considered myself an organized person, but between martial arts, Italian, piano, scout meetings, swimming, and chess instruction, even I can’t keep the days straight. On Sundays, the one day Nino has to relax, Alessio takes him out of the house, and I have no idea what they do together. Nino barely has time to take a breath, and I’m exhausted just trying to help him keep up.
It’s a problem that needs to be addressed, but I've scarcely seen Alessio since the bizarre mall incident. Initially, in his schedule, he stated that he would be present for breakfast with Nino on most days of the week. However, I’ve only found that to be true on a few occasions. I don’t know if he’s intentionally avoiding me, or if he’s busy with whatever his work entails, but Nino has informed me he’s come to say goodnight to him every day this week, so I’m guessing it must just be me.
I tell myself it’s for the best. I can’t forget the way he looked at me in the department store when we went shopping. The intense heat in his gaze was unmistakable, yet I find myself questioning if I imagined it. Why would a man like him ever want someone like me? I’ve done everything in my power to make myself as boring as possible. I wear plain, shapeless clothing and minimal makeup. I never style my hair. I hide away under the cloak I’ve created so men don’t seek me out. They don’t see me as a potential source of pleasure, but for a brief moment, Alessio did. I can’t forget the shiver on my skin when I felt the heat of his focus on me. Even knowing the danger he presents to me, I find that my curiosity about him only grows. It’s been a long time since a man has touched me. I swore to myself it would never happen again, but something changed between us that day. I felt it. He felt it. If I’m honest, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
I can’t go there. I can’t. Not unless it becomes absolutely crucial to my plan. I’ve fallen into a routine here. I’ve learned the layout of the house and the property. I’ve gone to the library in my free time and studied subjects I can’t look at on my phone. I’ve avoided Angelina at all costs, trying to fly under her radar at every opportunity. I’ve searched for weak spots in Manuel’s routine, and I’m continuing to learn more about Nino every day. The one person who evades me is Alessio. I don’t know what he hides on the third level of his home. I don’t know what he does, or where he goes, or even when. I need to if I’m to pull this off. I need to know everything about him. I’m debating exactly how I will do that when Manuel pulls up to the school, and we go inside to retrieve Nino.
Right away, I can tell something is off. He looks flushed, weak, and tired. My lips press together as I glance at the teacher, wondering why she didn’t notice. Manuel seems to be aware, too, as he looks at Nino and frowns. We usher him back to the car together, and I sign to him, asking him if he’s okay. Over the last two weeks, we’ve continued to progress his ASL, and he’s picking it up at record speed. When he doesn’t know the words, he’ll opt to spell them out, which keeps us signing often.
“I don’t feel good,” he tells me.
I gently touch his forehead and realize he has a fever. Before Manuel can pull away, I touch his arm and then write a note for him.