Page 28 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
Chapter Ten
Ivy
The bedside clock reads one twenty-six. Sighing, I stare up into the dark.
I’m really tired, but Tony’s face at the dinner haunts me. He was trying so hard to appear stoic and strong, but I saw the tiny tremor in his mouth and chin before he clenched his jaw.
I wanted to reach out to him, but I held back, afraid he wouldn’t react well. People as proud as Tony hate to show vulnerability, preferring to lick their wounds in private. I know because I’m like that, too. But now I wish I’d given him a hug. Or maybe a quick squeeze of his hand before I left. No matter how proud or strong, everyone needs comfort when they’re hurting.
It’s obvious he adores Aunt Margot and wants nothing more than her acceptance and love. But she ignored him more or less all evening long without being overtly rude, only because that’s beneath her. It’s like…she isn’t even proud of him. Like she wishes he were anywhere but here, under the same roof.
If I thought she was incapable of being loving or sweet, I’d just feel bad for Tony, but that isn’t the case. The harder I work, the more I accomplish, the prouder and happier she is with me. She’s never been stingy with praise, and she shows a lot of physical affection, too. The only thing Tony wanted was a kiss on her cheek after he sang for us so brilliantly, but she wouldn’t even give him that.
I’ve always admired Aunt Margot and thought she could do no wrong. But today… I almost hate her for being so cruel to her own son and wish she’d given him even a quarter of the love she’s lavished on me. She has to know what he wants and is purposely withholding it to torment him. I saw the cruel light in her gaze when she thought nobody was looking. She was feeding off his misery.
But why? Any mother would be proud of a son like Tony—tall, handsome, intelligent, educated, polite…
I turn and settle on my side, then give up and climb out of bed. I’m not getting any sleep at this rate.
I pad downstairs to the small room in the back. Aunt Margot bought a digital piano for me when I was in middle school, so I could practice with the headphones on and not bother anybody. Some finger exercises by Hanon should help. Hanon is always meditative.
I push the door open. It moves soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. I start to go inside, the room lit only by tonight’s half-moon. His back to the door, Tony is at the piano, playing a hauntingly melancholy melody. The volume is set so low, it’s barely audible. An open bottle of hard liquor sits on the piano, more than half empty, and he swigs it before continuing.
I bite my lip. The moment is too private for me to intrude, but I can’t help but worry about him. There’s nothing capable or controlled about the way he’s sitting at the piano. Not even a hint of the cocky guy he was before kissing me. He looks so…desolate. Broken. If I were just a little braver, I’d reach out and touch him.
He’s upset enough to be drinking. Let him be.
I bite my lip, but finally decide to retreat. However, to my embarrassment, my slippers squeak a little on the floor as I start to turn back.
“You can laugh. It’s fine.” Tony’s words are slightly slurred. “I was pathetic…am pathetic.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“Should’ve never come back to Tempérane,” he continues. “Should’ve known better.” He stands up, his fist tight around the neck of the bottle, and takes another long swallow. “Should’ve known I’ll never be able to make up for what I took from her.” He sways. “Should’ve been the one who died.”
“Tony.”
“Why should I be the one to live? She hates me. She’ll always hate me.”
Suddenly he folds like an abandoned accordion, his elbow resting on his knees and his face buried in a hand.
Sympathy stirs. He looks so, so lonely, and I can’t leave him like this, not after such bitter, self-loathing honesty. I want him to know he’s worthy of living.
I sit next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t think like that.”
Tension has turned his muscles into rigid knots, but he shakes anyway, trying to hold on to some vestige of control.
Whatever happened between Aunt Margot and Tony… It’s in the past…happened before I arrived in Tempérane. He was a just kid back then, and he doesn’t deserve this kind of torment from a mother he obviously loves. Nobody does. “I know you’re a good person, Tony,” I whisper. “Don’t let anybody tell you different.”
And I continue holding him in the dark, to let him know he isn’t alone.
* * *
Anthony
About an hour later, I carry Ivy through the dark and silent house to her bedroom and tuck her in. She fell asleep, her arm around my shoulders.
It probably makes me contemptible that I took comfort in her embrace. But I did…because I was feeling weak and overly self-indulgent.
