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I turned to him when I opened the door and asked.
"Your front door. I've never seen it locked. Every time I open it, it's unlocked. Whether or not you're in the house." I didn't expect him to answer me, but he did.
"It's a security program. Uses a very strong camera and computing to detect a whole lot of things to determine who's at the door and automatically lets the person in. I added you to the image sensor. Why?"
"Nothing, just curious," I shrugged with a smile and closed the door behind me like I just exited the house of a friend to come back the next day. But the fact was plain and obvious. I was not coming back. I felt his eyes on me before I left his house and even after I closed the door, it was as if I could feel his eyes penetrate the door at me.
In his eyes, before I took my eyes off them one last time, I tried hard to read what he was trying to tell me. It was something deep, yet the stare seemed so blank, I decided to ignore it. From now on, I would no longer concern myself with anything about Alessandro Ricci.
I was strong and I moved on from situations fast, like my father's death that took me two weeks and a boy to fully recover from. But this one, I was sure would stay with me for quite a while. I looked down at my stomach as I waited for the Uber I called andthen took one more look at the test strip. Then and there, I knew I was keeping the baby.
My only family.
Chapter 12
The house was no different from when I left it. The same American house with mild Arabian touches. Everything had a fine coat of dust on them, especially the smoothened surfaces like tabletops and glass surfacing.
All tomorrow's work.
If the bed was a mess, then I was going to the couch. Definitely, that night, the bed decided for itself. Couch it is.
I took the pillows and gave them a good enough shake. The dust flakes weren't obvious, but they were sure to give me a runny nose by the middle of the night if I didn't perform the shake ritual. Feeling unsatisfied with the results, I went into the fabric archive and took out a plain sheet of fabric. These ones were more protected from dust than the rest of the material left tofate. I removed the pillow casing and even though it wasn't on purpose, I found a way to make the new fabric fit the bare pillow.
That'd have to do for today.
I took a trip down to the living room and set the pillow on the arm of the longest chair alignment. Feeling like a homeless person in my own house, I placed another sheet I was able to rummage for in the fabric pile over myself and tried closing my eyes to sleep. Everything felt too surreal to have happened. One day, I was feeling the bliss and radiation of love and affection. Next, I felt like killing myself to rid my heart of the emptiness and confusion.
I couldn't even bring myself to feel completely disheartened because I was still very much struggling to understand what actually took place in Alessandro's house.
Why did he say what he said to me? What did he even say? The only thing that registered with me were those three words.
'Poor gambling drunk.'
I know I'm not a petty person, but I was sure that statement was not going to depart from me for quite a while. No matter how much I tried to shake it off, no matter how much I tried to zone in on other things he said, those three words brought their powerful stings and delivered to me the poisoned mix of pain, embarrassment, and anger.
Is that really the image he saw of me when I made love to him? When he took me out on that date, was there somewhere at the back of his head that told him he's going out with apoor gambling drunk?
For some reason, I didn't feel satisfied enough with whatever it was he said. This kept me awake for quite a while. Not sulking or depressed, but conflicted. Whatever excesses I had, he seemed to have quite few intolerances for them, so for him to immediately resort to kicking me out...there was more to it.
I needed to go back. Not to beg him, to understand him. To really get why he would move to such drastic measures to have me out of his life so rapidly, not even wanting to hear me out, not even a classic try of the 'it wasn't about you, it's about me'... nothing.
And so as I drifted in and out of consciousness, before falling into a comfortable pace of sleep, in those lucid intervals, I did imagine Alessandro with a ton of flowers and apology notes...not that I really needed any of those things. I imagined his soft lips embracing mine, feeling me with a hot need for him and a growing crave for more.
******************************
I look up...and instantly get cold feet. There are times I hate my mind; now is one of them.
Yesterday, I couldn't sleep without resolving it within myself that I had to come and clear the air between myself and Alessandro. Now that I was finally here, the will to turn back wasso strong; I felt like the slightest breeze in the opposite direction would send me swaying back home. Unfortunately, all currents came inland, pushing me further into the apartment complex. The sooner I get done with it, the better. It was almost dark, and I didn't intend to spend the night.
His apartment was high up, and I was sure I couldn't immediately decipher which was the fifteenth floor.
'Maybe seeing him on that balcony would help you better tell which floor is his...'
I literally have to remind myself verbatim that I'm here to seek proper answers and not reconcile. I enter the reception hall and greet the well-groomed man behind the desk. He seems more of a security official than a receptionist. Besides, this isn't a service apartment.
"Twenty-seven B," I tell him, even though I'm sure I didn't even need a permit. He nods over to the elevator, and I give him an appreciative smile before continuing my way.
If all things went according to plan, this would be the last time I came here. But if I got my wish, I wouldn't even leave. Right now, I badly want to be a horse.
