Not that it matters to Lev. He’s never once asked if I had a boyfriend or was single. I’m the one who had a crisis of conscience when Lev let me know he’d be in Chicago this month. Jeff was right; our breakup came out of nowhere. Nowhere, except I knew I wanted to have sex with Lev more than I wanted to continue dating another guy.
Lev drops the cigarette. It joins a dozen others in a graveyard of litter. “Hungry?” he asks, nodding toward the diner where we were supposed to meet.
I bend down, picking up the cigarette still smoldering at one end. “I can’t stop you from poisoning yourself. I can keep you from poisoning the planet. And innocent pigeons.”
I extinguish the end and flick the trash into an open dumpster.
Lev watches with a steady superiority I find both irritating and arousing.
“You cut your hair.”
I finger one of the shoulder-length strands. The last time we saw each other, it hung halfway down my back. A drastic change, but not one I expected him to comment on. Jeff never noticed.
“You look the same.” I scan his black hoodie as I say it, like I’ll possibly be able to see through the fabric. He probably thinks I’m checking him out, and I am, but I’m also wondering if any new scars have joined the collection on his chest.
“You were … kidding … about hurting Jeff. Right?” I feel absurd even asking.
But the only other guy I’ve mentioned to Lev—Harry Pearson—suddenly disappeared just before the start of senior year. A bizarre coincidence I’ve never been brave enough to ask Lev about.
“You don’t want me to hurt him. Right?”
“Right. I-I don’t want you to hurt anyone.”
Shadows flicker across Lev’s face. “That is not how the world works.”
Theworld, I note. Not his.
“It could.”
Even as I say it, I know I sound like a naive child. I saw two murders on this morning’s news. My tuition isn’t solely funded by the wine and pasta my father sells.
“It doesn’t, Carina.”
TROUBLE IN PARADISE
Icount down the final strokes in my head, then somersault and shove away from the wall. The bottom of my father’s pool is nicer than the one in my apartment building. Mosaic tiles of cheery yellow and light blue and creamy white blur below as I force my arms to move faster, windmilling through the water in rapid strokes.
I continue, lap after lap, until I feel dizzy from the exertion and from lack of oxygen. I haven’t been stealing as many breaths between strokes as I should and haven’t taken a single break since I jumped in.
My muscles tremble as I slow, floating for a few seconds of respite before I stand to climb the stairs that extend out of the shallow end.
Enzo is sprawled across a lounger, one arm draped lazily over his eyes to shade them from the sun. I retrieve a towel from the neat stack by a planter, wrapping it around my torso before taking a seat on another lounger located under the shade of an umbrella.
Past the pool is a grove of lemon trees, the yellow citrus and lush leaves vibrant drops of color against the brilliant backdropof the sky. Planted flowers perfume the air, tinged with the slightest hint of salt from the nearby Mediterranean Sea.
It’s paradise.
I wish I were anywhere else.
“Are you still sulking?” Enzo asks, rolling his head my way and cracking one eye open.
I stiffen before glancing at my youngest brother. “Is one night supposed to be long enough to accept the rest of my life has been decided for me?”
Just saying that sentence aloud is surreal. I woke up this morning, and for a few blissful seconds, I forgot that yesterday happened. My entire future, altered by one lunch.
Enzo’s only response is a sigh.
I swing my feet over the chair’s extended legs so I can face my brother fully. “Will you talk to Papà? Please? Tell him this is … this is crazy!”
