Page 53

He mutters curses in Italian. “Yes.”
Huh. Interesting. “Uh. Okay. Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Why am I supposed to ask how you are? Why am I someone you need to ask why I am checking in on you?”
I cough. “Sorry. Uh. I just didn’t… think…”
“I know what you think. And I think it is bullshit. I should be allowed to call in and check on my friend,” he snaps.
The word,friend, seems to hit me smack in the middle of my chest.
“Are we friends?” I blurt.
Fuck me. I haven’t lost control of my mouth this frequently since I was a fucking teenager.
“I would like to be friends,” Elio says.
Well.
Elio mutters. Like a sullen, pouting child.
I sigh.
Elio and I were once best friends. We’re the same age, and we shared some fun experiences when I was in college and grad school. Elio’s father was old-fashioned, and after we graduated high school, Elio returned to Italy to learn to run their business, but we remained friends and would try to get together to party whenever we could. We were young and stupid and jacked up on the kind of hormones that make you feel invincible, and we fucked and partied our way through Europe for long enough that it was cause for some concern. Our families negotiated for him to marry Catarina, my youngest sister, and it changed our friendship, because instead of watching my best friend hook up with women, I was watching my future brother-in-law, and it was a mirror to my own behavior.
And I didn’t like what I saw.
Then, Elio and Caterina got engaged, and my parents were murdered.
I assumed Elio to be behind the hit.
And I hated him. For years.
So no, I don’t think we’re friends.
Or I didn’t.
Clearly, Elio notices my silence, because he clears his throat. “Unless you do not wish?—”
“We’re friends,” I interrupt.
Fuck it.
I can be friends with Elio.
Right?
He huffs. “I do not wish to be friends if you do not wish it, Marco. But I…” he pauses.
It’s pathetic how interested I am in this pause.
“Occasionally, I find that I require a friend,” he says finally.
I think about the situation here. The secrets I’m holding. The secrets I’ve always held, to keep my family safe.
I’ve always been okay with it.
Except now?