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And I can never tell him why.
What should I do?
I should tell him the truth now and hope he lets it go. Hope he forgives me. I imagine his reaction.
What would happen if I came out clean?
A gun to my head?
A change of heart?
An apology for his beliefs?
A swift get the fuck out?
Right now, I can’t deal with this.
I take a deep breath and watch him closely.
I try to remember every inch of his face for that dreadful day when I would no longer be in the same room with him.
For when he finally bids me a traitor and forever wishes me goodbye. If good at all.
His phone rings.
He picks it up.
His mouth forms words.
Each motion is forever etched in my mind like a movie I’d never forget.
Memories of happier times.
My heart shatters at the thought that I have the privilege of knowing I need to jot all this down to memory, but he doesn’t even know he should go yet.
By not telling him, I feel I’m taking something away from him.
Not only am I a liar and a traitor, but as of this moment, I became a thief.
He puts it down. He looks at me.
“Emily,” he says. “I’ve been here long enough to know how we change people. I just don’t want to change you.”
“I understand,” I say, my voice low and steady, resolute almost, like I’m already disassociating from my growing love for him.
“But it doesn’t mean I agree with it. I won’t let my lack of family background keep me from doing what I’m good at.”
Might as well drown myself in work now while I can. So that when the time comes, look, I helped you build too.
Maybe if I do a damn good job, he’d consider believing that not all family enemies were born enemies - some were forced to be until they had an out.
Maybe he’d give me an escape.
I yearn for him to give me an out because I have nobody to call mine except him.
Before tears threaten to fill my eyes, I cough to clear the constricting bulge in my throat.
“Felix, I’m here now. You might as well let me help. Can we go speak with the team?”
