Page 80 of Alonzo

There’s two ways this could work, I guess.

One. He does tell me everything. I’m OK with whatever it is and we become partners in his dangerously beautiful life.

Or two. He tells me nothing beyond this elusive myth story of who and what he is. I shut up, ask no more questions, and we live the lie forever. Or at least until we both can’t take it anymore.

But maybe there’s a third way?

Maybe I expose his secrets, never tell him I know, and then make up my own mind—leaving him out of the decision altogether?

CHAPTER NINETEEN - ALONZO

“So. That’s my story.”

“That’s it, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re just the oldest cursed male in a long line of cursed males.”

“You could say that.”

“And you’re just OK with that?”

I pause to consider this instead of agreeing out of instinct. Because I am OK with it. This is who I am. Deep down in my core I am the eldest son of the siren’s daughter. “Well,” I finally say. “Yeah. I’m OK with it. But I really like you, Tara.”

She turns on her side and props herself up with an elbow. “I like you too. But I think your story is bullshit.”

“Yeah.” I sigh, letting my lips morph into the lines of a smile. “I thought you might.”

“If you don’t want to be with me—”

“Hey, I never said that. I just want you to know I come with baggage.”

“Of the mythological siren variety.”

“It’s just a metaphor.”

“I understand that part. The part I don’t get is… why tell me any of it? Why not just go on pretending? I mean, listen, Lonnie. Our whole friendship, relationship, whatever you call it—it’s all based on lies we told each other.”

“Let me ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Did you set out to hurt me when you told your lies?”

“I didn’t really lie to you. I am Tara now. I am a librarian. I wear pencil skirts. People are allowed to reinvent themselves. And there’s no law against changing your name and starting over.”

“OK. I agree with that. But you didn’t answer my question. Did you mean to hurt me?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to hurt you, either. So if I did—”

“You didn’t.” She sighs. “Maybe a little. But that’s not the point. I just like the truth, OK? I just hate the feeling that someone is lying to me. I can’t deal.”

“I’m not lying anymore. You see me now. You’ve met my family. You’re here with me in real life. My only question is… will it be enough?”

“To sit on the sidelines, you mean? While you go off and do these… dangerously beautiful things?”