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I sure as fucking shit know the day her mamma fucking died.
And this letter is from the same year. Dated exactly one fucking day before.
My throat works, and I’m very, very still. But not a calm sort of still. The stillness of a bomb about to blow.
O’Malley gets a letter about debt repayment and “less desirable forms of recourse” the day before the car accident that killed his wife?
Shit like that does not just happen. That is not a coincidence. Not in the world men like O’Malley and I inhabit.
I fight to control myself, to not obliterate the paper in my hands, but it’s fucking hard, and for a long, ugly moment that tastes like metal and smoke I can’t even see straight. My mind careens back and forth, picking up pieces like bits of a broken teapot from a box, putting them together until everything suddenly becomes clear.
The car accident that killed Deirdre’s mamma wasn’t an accident at all.
Somebody planned it. And O’Malley fucking knew.
Chapter 29
Deirdre
When I get home from class and head upstairs to find Elio, I stop with a jolt to see that he isn’t there. I stare at the empty bed, freshly made by Rosa, panic rising faster than I know what to do with. I set my bag down and spin on my heel, throwing myself right back out of the room to find him.
I almost take out Doctor Morelli as I do so, who’s currently walking down the hall. He catches me with a pair of strong, steady hands around the elbow and makes sure I don’t fall before letting go.
“Sorry!” I say quickly. “I’m looking for Elio. He’s not in bed. Is he OK?”
“OK,” the doctor responds with a small smile. “I say he can get up a little bit.” His smile grows, turns into a grin. “Strong boy. Eh? Sometimes staying in bed… It’s worse than being sick.”
“You’re telling me,” I say on a sigh, relieved. “I can’t even believe he stayed in bed like he was told for as long as he did.”
“Because of you,” the doctor says without hesitation.
“What?” I cock my head at him.
“He wants to marry you. Wants to live. Never listened to me that much before. Non frega un cazzo. Eh… Normally, he doesn’t give a – pardoni – doesn’t give a shit.”
This body ain’t worth shit, Songbird.
“Well, I’m glad he does now,” I say quietly. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“No.”
“OK. Actually. I have a favour to ask you. Or not really a favour. I…” My sentence breaks off into embarrassed silence. I cross my arms, face throbbing with warmth. I peek around Doctor Morelli to see a soldier in the usual place at the top of the stairs and I lower my voice. “I want to get on birth control.”
I got my period while Elio was sick with his fever, thank God.
Let’s just say that I’m pretty invested in making sure that it comes again next month. And it’s not like I can just wander out of here anytime I want and make an appointment at a local clinic.
But Doctor Morelli doesn’t nod or instantly agree the way I’d expected him to.
He hesitates, runs a hand through his grey hair, then says, “Gotta ask the boss.”
“I… hold on. What? Did I just hear you right?” I say, absolutely flabbergasted. “I know Elio is in charge of just about everything around here, but I have to ask his permission to go on fucking birth control?”
“Not you,” he says quickly, as if that’s comforting. “Me. I must ask the boss before I can give to you.”
“That’s… That’s even worse! You’re a doctor! You shouldn’t have to ask a person with no medical training for permission before you administer an important drug to someone else!”
“Not just someone else,” he replies. “Boss’ wife. You see?”
