Page 21 of Drawn Together

“Could you stay with me for a little while until I fall asleep? When I close my eyes, all I see is…”

“No problem.”

I followed her into her bedroom and sat on the chair in the corner. After what had just happened, it was as if something had changed between us. Her eyes never left mine as she lay her head on her pillow and pulled my comforter up to her neck. She breathed in my scent on the blanket, and we gazed at each other until sleep overcame her and she closed her eyes.

I sat watching her for a long time, with only one thought on my mind:I’ll do anything to keep you safe, Marfil. That’s a promise I won’t allow myself to break.

CHAPTER 9MARFIL

I dreamed the same dream I’ve been having since I was a little girl. The blood pooled on the ground in front of me, my mother’s head lying on the cement step, cracked open, her brains splattered all around her.

That was the last image I had of her. The only one, in reality, because I was just barely four years old when my mother was murdered in front of me. All I remembered was the sound of the gun going off, the touch of her hand gripping mine tightly, and then letting go as she fell to the ground.

I’m not sure how long I stood looking at that scene; it could’ve been minutes or even hours. What I do know is that I didn’t move until my father came to get me. The attack on my mother, according to the police, had been a random robbery. Colombia is not a country where a family as wealthy as mine can go out on the street without certain precautions. They killed her and stole her diamond engagement ring, valued at half a million dollars at the time.

Would the same thing happen to me? And if so, would they kill me for even less?

I looked at my hands. I never used rings, but on the rare occasion when I did wear jewelry, it was never worth more than a hundred dollars. My father used to get mad at me because I never wore anything he bought me, not even the ones for birthdays or Christmases; years went by until he finallystopped insisting on giving me jewelry and started giving me a check instead, which I would then donate or stick in a drawer and forget about.

What if my mother’s murder had been something more than a simple robbery? What if someone had been trying to hurt my father back then the way they were trying to do now? Was it revenge for some failed business deal or simple jealousy? People would do crazy things for money, and my father had enough to buy a small country.

I looked to the chair where Sebastian had spent the better part of the night. I never would’ve imagined he’d agree to watch over me as I slept, but there he sat until my eyes closed. I had tried to fight off the heaviness of my eyelids—on one hand, because I knew that I was going to have nightmares, and on the other, because I didn’t want to give up the privilege of looking at him. His eyes never left mine for an instant, and during those long moments that we gazed silently at each other, I imagined what it would be like for Sebastian to fall in love with me.

I’d always fantasized about love, true love, not one based on physical attraction. I was attracted to Sebastian, very attracted to him, but for some reason I found difficult to explain, I couldn’t help but wonder if my untrusting heart could possibly fall in love with him.

Sebastian wasn’t in the kitchen when I came out fully dressed and ready to head to campus.

Great, just my luck.

I was anxious to get to my classes and get them over with because I had my private ballet lessons afterward. I taught dance to twelve-year-old girls who couldn’t afford to attend a ballet academy. For the past two years I had thrown all my energy into teaching them everything I knew, preparing themto hopefully one day receive scholarships to the School of American Ballet.

I was so close to banging on Sebastian’s door when he entered the living room. “Ready?” he asked, picking up the keys off the counter.

I nodded in silence, grabbing my backpack and the sports bag that held my dance stuff.

He didn’t mention any of what had happened last night at the movies, and I didn’t either. My father would resolve the matter; I was sure of it. I only hoped that no one would send me any more dead animals. I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

I climbed into the passenger’s seat, and this time Sebastian didn’t even blink. At least we were now in agreement on that matter. I had no idea how I was going to tell him that I planned to take the subway to Brownsville that afternoon. It was known as a fairly rough neighborhood in Brooklyn, but to me, it was just another neighborhood in New York; nothing would happen to you as long as you were careful. Still, I hoped that Sebastian was unfamiliar with the area and its reputation. I didn’t know where he was from, but it definitely wasn’t Manhattan; he used Google Maps to get around from time to time.

As always, he parked the car in the lot farthest from campus. We walked to class, and I hated having to stay in front of him. I liked being beside him, accidentally brushing against each other, or at least looking at him and imagining that our relationship was more than strictly professional.

And that thought persisted throughout class. I was so distracted, I could hardly pay attention. Afterward, I walked halfway across the Morningside Heights campus to find Tami in the fine arts building. No matter what else was going on in my life, I needed to know that things were okay between us.

I poked my head into her oil painting class and found her concentrating on the canvas in front of her—messy bun, nomakeup, wearing blue jeans and a white smock stained with different colors. In the middle of the room, three models posed half naked so that the rest of the class could paint them.

I waited for class to end, then went inside to admire my friend’s work. It was spectacular.

I snuck up from behind Tami and wrapped my arms around her. She jumped but immediately knew it was me, since no one else would snuggle up to her like that.

“Are you still mad at me?” I asked against her back. She was shorter than me, and her hair smelled like lavender.

“I’m busy right now, Mar,” she said, picking up a paintbrush and pulling away from me.

At least she’d called me Mar, that was a good sign.

I looked toward the door, where Sebastian was watching the entrance.

“There’s something I have to tell you. Something happened last night and I’m worried,” I said, trying to get her attention.