Page 58 of Moonstruck at Midnight
“Remember four days ago when Lily and I bumped into you at the lobby?” He nodded with one of his wicked smiles. Of course, he remembered. That’s the day he sent me the envelope with all the goodies and called me lover when he walked by past me. “Well, Lily and I went out for coffee, and a photographer hit me with his lens when we stepped out.”
“So, a pap did it?” he asked with flared nostrils. I nodded. “Fuck.” He looked away, shaking his head.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re fine.” He snorted with a smile. But he didn’t seem happy. “There are plenty of ways to hurt someone without touching them.” I guess we were back to talking about Thomas. And he was right. Iwashurting, but in a different, non-physical way.
What do you want me to say?I looked away because Iwasn’tfine. I bit the inside of my lip, trying to hold the tears that threatened to stream down my face.Again. It was my night to shine.
“Guille?”
My chest collapsed, and my throat closed up on me when he called me Guille. I wanted so badly to hear my mother’s voice calling my name.
The real tears I’d been holding in all night came splashing down like a river escaping a dam. I felt so lonely.
I curled up into a ball on the sunbed and allowed myself to cry, unmoved about William being there, looking at me break down completely.
He sat on his heels beside my sunbed, facing me.
My sobs became trembling pants that forced me to close my eyes and shut myself out from reality. William laid his hand on my face where it was bruised, and I slapped it away.
He tried again, and I sat up and pushed his chest. He sat next to me, grabbed my shoulders, and pulled me closer to him. I kept trying to shove him away, but the more I fought him, the harder his grasp became to pull away from.
His embrace finally gained in on me, refusing to let go. There was no strength left in me to resist him. I finally surrendered and settled myself on his warm chest, waiting for the tears to run dry.
When my mother died, I mourned, but it was mostly a feeling of numbness. Processing her death was a challenging effort, but when I felt like I needed her the most, the feelings of grief became overwhelming. Allowing myself to cry with anyone was rare. Let alone like this.
William refused to let go of me, and I had completely lost track of time. I never knew I needed this—for someone to hold me while I felt like drowning.
I hadn’t been strong enough to deal with these feelings on my own, and Thomas had never asked me again how I felt about my mother or if I wanted to talk about it. I knew he was giving me space, respecting me until I was ready to talk. But the moment never presented itself.
Thomas was mourning, too, suffering for his brother’s loss. I thought I had to be strong for him, but I wasn’t strong enough to deal with his burdens and my own. I’d unconsciously chosen his—an unsustainable practice.
William’s arms fulfilled their purpose. I slowly broke away from his embrace. He brushed one last tear away from my face with his thumb. “Better?”
I nodded.
Crying always made me feel better—momentarily.
I decided it was time to at least try to make the pain go away for good. And for some strange reason, William seemed like the kind of person willing to listen.
“MY MOTHER USED TOcall me Guille,” I confessed. “She died when I was fourteen.” I took a deep breath. The words came out naturally. “She was shot and killed while waiting outside of school to pick me up one day. I got caught up talking to a friend after school, and that’s when we heard the screams.
“The burst of bullets was so intense that it finally got through the armored windows of the vehicle. It was all so fast. My mother and the Embassy driver were killed.
“Aaron ran in my direction when the gunshots were heard for the first time. I didn’t know what was happening, but he took me into a classroom and started to make a few calls with agitation. Police and ambulance sirens began to wail in the distance, but he wouldn’t tell me anything.”
The permanently stationed knot on my stomach untangled itself gently, and the lingering pressure on my chest evaporated into a mist of nothing. The answer was obvious. Talking about my mother’s death to someone willing to listen was incredibly therapeutic. And William gave me all his attention.
“More Embassy cars arrived, my mother was taken away in an ambulance, or so I was told, and I was finally taken back to the Embassy. My father was in the hospital. Aaron was the one who broke the news to me.” I took another deep breath and exhaled slowly out through my mouth. William’s face was solemn, and his eyes had lost their spark that characterized him.
“Where did this happen? Do you know who did it and why?” He had the same questions I had, but unfortunately, I didn’t have all the answers.
“Mexico City. There’s supposed to be an ongoing investigation. That’s what they keep telling me. Every time I ask, I keep getting that same answer.” I found it odd they couldn’t figure out what had happened after all this time.
“Is—your life in danger?” William asked, offering an uncomfortable look on his face.
“Well, after this happened, it had to be assumed it might be. We moved to Norway, and I didn’t leave the residence much—hardly ever. I had a personal tutor because I didn’t feel like going to school or doing anything, really. I was just—numb, so I mostly kept to my books.”
