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“Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!” She carried so much depth as she read, sending goosebumps down my arms. I wanted to listen to her read forever, and my new goal would be to attend every reading she offered. The woman, though small, would be my beacon during my darkest hour. She’d radiate her light on me just as my mother once did before her untimely death.
As the performance came to an end, I walked up to the plexiglass barrier while she fumbled to put her overly used book in her bag. I loved seeing how worn the edges and spine were because that meant she read it often. When she stood, she finally saw me waiting for her to notice.
“Oh, hello.” Her smile beamed electricity straight to my dead core. “Thank you for participating today. It means a lot to see at least one care about literature.”
“Wuthering Heights was my mother’s favorite book. Walking in and hearing you read it gave me an old glimpse of those memories I have of her, so thank you.”
She could tell without needing to ask that my mother no longer lived. A softness took over her expression as well. “My mother used to spend hours each night reading me her favorites. She’d often tell me, the things she touched the most would be where I could find her when she was gone.”
Ah, so the heaviness sitting in her delicate stare came from her kinship to my pain. “Well, thank you for your time, Miss?”
“Millie,” she rushed out like she never had many people ask her name. “Millie Carmichael.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Carmichael. I’m Draven De Luca.”
Her eyes sparked with an odd curiosity like she had heard of me but not enough to condemn me like everyone else. The corner of her lip quirked up as she smirked. “So you’re the infamous mafia honcho scaring my father’s poor employees.”
“Does he command the guards?” I asked before regretting it because she now knew I had a few run ins and beat some men.
“No. He runs the outreach programs for the prison and sees the inmates for psych evaluations. Ever since you arrived, people keep thinking the mafia might target them if they come here.”
“But not you?” My piercing gaze settled into her gentler stare. She didn’t fear me. Not an ounce of flaring happened around her pupils.
“If your family wanted to target people for your incarceration, I have my doubts it would be for the girl reading a book to you.”
“Wise choice.” Letting my eyes devour her short stature, I observed how she had to lift her chin to see me better like a good girl. “I can promise that you will never be hurt by my family, Miss Carmichael.”
“Millie,” she murmured. “Please, just call me Millie.”
“Millie it is.” The guard finally came to grab my arm and guide me out. I didn’t want to part with this angelic creature, but my free time wasn’t mine to command these days. “Until next week then.”
three
Millie
Going home, I found Tim in his normal position in front of the TV. His gaming headset tuned out the living world around him as he forgot to clean up after himself. Frustration ate at me, but I bottled it in. Trying to think of the proper communication dialogue, I noticed how his tank top had risen over his growing middle. Nothing about him gaining weight would change my love for him, but I didn’t like how unhealthy he kept choosing to live by not moving during the day. He got up for snacks and to pee, but not even me banging on the door as groceries spilled could get him to get up.
“Tim, can we have a conversation for a minute?” I used conversation rather than talk because men hated when women said ‘we need to talk’.
“I’m in the middle of a game, babe.”
“Is that why you couldn’t bother walking your garbage to the can?” My hands gestured to the small coffee table.
“Dillon wants to do a competition this weekend, so we need all the practice we can get. I planned to throw it away when he goes to work in a few hours, but you can take it now if it bothers you that much.” He didn’t even look at me. My sadness always catapulted when I came home.
“Speaking of work, how many places did you apply to today?” I asked while cleaning up the soda and beer cans with the wrappers from his Doordash that we couldn’t afford. I made plenty of prepped meals to give him a good balance for his health. He never ate them, so I usually had the same thing for my lunch and dinner to keep our budget tighter.
“Babe, I’m trying to prep for this competition! The grand prize is five thousand. We’ll be set when I win it.”
“If,” I corrected. “If you win it, and why did you use Doordash? We’ve talked about not having enough for eating out.”
“Because you left me a salad, Millie. What man eats a salad for a meal?”
“One who needs to diet better from not moving much.” Being honest only happened when I got upset enough, but I worked hard on those meals. I prepped the chicken and shredded it while dicing all the veggies up to be easier to spoon in. I even made a vinaigrette with fresh strawberries.
“Are you calling me fat?” Tim paused long enough to take that from my words.
“No. I’m just saying, since you lost your job, you aren’t as active. If you don’t move, you need to eat less calories and cleaner foods. If you had a job, you could afford to order out as much as you want, but it’s just my income supporting the two of us, so you need to eat the salads I spend time preparing.”
