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UNKNOWN
BASTIANO ROMANO
Days Too Late: 7
I didn’t wake up alone.
I thought I’d open my eyes to Vincent’s ghost, but he was gone. The sheets pooled around my waist as I sat up. Ariana slept beside me, but I couldn’t see Vince’s ghost.
Nothing behind me.
Nothing to the left.
Nothing to the right.
Nothing straight ahead.
Just gone.
Maybe he was really gone, or maybe it was the granola bar I’d eaten. I was tempted to starve myself again, but my stomach churned at the thought.
The fear that I’d forget what he looked like—each detail of his face I thought I’d see every day—gripped my throat.
I hacked out a cough, reminding myself he and Gio shared the same face. It didn’t help. I couldn’t look at Gio without seeing Vince, and because Gio was so far from Vince…
I vowed not to look at Gio again.
A hand rubbed at my back until the coughing subsided. Ariana’s hand.
She hadn’t left.
I kept my eyes on the wall as I asked, “Do you have a shift?”
“It’s”—she paused—“eight in the morning.”
Oh. Right.
The bar didn’t open until dinner time.
I didn’t even know today’s date, let alone the time.
Ariana stood and stretched her arms up. She’d changed sometime during the night because she wore my Wilton Rugby shirt and a pair of pink panties.
The shirt rose, and I caught a peek of the lace caressing her hips before she lowered her arms and left the room.
She returned ten minutes later with a tray with peanut butter and jelly on toast and a glass of orange juice.
“I stopped by the grocery store while you slept last night.”
I stared at the food.
If I took a bite, Vince’s ghost would never return.
“You need food.” She set the tray in front of me. “Please.”
The orange juice tasted bitter, but I finished the glass off, taking my time so I wouldn’t throw it up. I ate the toast slowly, studying Ariana the entire time.
She looked as tired as I felt. Bags under her eyes. A little thinner than she already was. Shivering as she stood in front of me, refusing to sit until I popped the last of the toast in my mouth.
