Page 29 of Tell Me Softly

I didn’t like the anxious feeling that filled my chest just then.

My dad was suffering, and my mother, who should have been supporting him, was making his life hell.

I realized I’d have to be strong for him, try to put a good face on for whatever was to come.

I could never have imagined everything was going to collapse, bit by bit, like a line of dominoes with no one able to stop it.

And I sure as hell didn’t know the first piece had already fallen.

***

The next morning was a hard one for all of us.

My parents had to tell our maid that they couldn’t use her services anymore.

Prue said her goodbyes and all of us were emotional, even my mother, who stared out the window and cried.

Was it because she was going to miss her or because she’d have to do the cooking now?

I wasn’t sure. But it was hard to imagine her washing dishes or making any recipe besides spaghetti.

“Don’t be a bad boy, now, all right?” Prue said to my brother, who hugged her and didn’t want to let her go.

“Who’s going to make my food now?” he asked.

“Your mother, honey,” she said with a smile.

Cameron’s eyes opened in terror.

“No! You can’t go!” he shouted, almost squeezing the air out of her. I laughed, and I was happy my mother was too focused on the cigarette she was smoking to hear him.

“We’ll miss you,” I said with a sad smile.

“Take care of your little brother, dear,” she said, pulling me under her arm. “And be good and help out your mother. It’s no easy feat, keeping this house in order.”

My brother and I nodded and accompanied her outside.

On the porch––I couldn’t help myself––I glanced over at the Di Bianco house.

Taylor was getting into the car with Thiago.

They both looked over. Taylor smiled, Thiago ground his teeth, and as soon as he’d turned the key, he stomped on the gas.

Soon the two of them vanished down the street.

My mother appeared behind us.

“I’m going to get a handle on this situation or my name isn’t Anne Hamilton,” she said. We both turned to her. When I asked, pleasantly surprised, “Are you telling me you’re going to get a job?” she looked at me as if I’d insulted her.

“Take your damn brother to school,” she said, kneeling down and brushing off Cameron’s clothes. “And no more fights, young man.” She kissed him on the cheek, grinned, and walked back inside.

“Does Mom know how to work?” Cam asked.

I sighed. “Seems like she doesn’t,” I said.

***

I dropped Cameron off after almost getting in a fight with him because he kept insisting we should play hooky.

He said we deserved to get away, just as Mom did when she said too many things were bothering her.

I worried sometimes about her influence on him.

We had this sense that he was still a baby and didn’t understand what was going on, but he was the opposite.

He was very sharp, and he’d soon realize something major had changed in our household.

I crossed the parking lot, and everybody waved at me as if it was just another ordinary day.

It was funny to think about what a closed world families are.

When we were at school, all of us were just teenagers trying to pass our exams, graduate, maybe get into college and get a scholarship.

But there was so much else––affairs, fights, financial struggles—and all of that was hidden inside us.

Most of us never gave a hint about it. That’s what we get for always looking at the surface.

People are like apples: inside, they might be rotten and full of worms, but on the outside, they’re bright and shiny, and you don’t know what is lurking under that perfect skin until you take a bite.

That made me think: What would happen if people could see the worms eating their way through my supposedly perfect life? Would they stop saying hi to me? Would they stop admiring me or wanting to imitate me?

Probably so.

But the funniest thing was, I couldn’t care less.

“Hey, babe,” Kate said, coming out of nowhere and hugging me to her shoulder. “Double practice today.”

I froze. “I can’t go to two practices. I’ve got detention.” How the hell had she not realized that?

“Shit! What should we do, Kami? We’ve got to rehearse. We suck, and the game is right around the corner.”

“I know! But I can’t skip detention. I’m sorry.”

“Hopefully you’ll stop getting in trouble.”

I didn’t have a chance to respond before she walked off. Senior year was proving to be hard. Between homework, these projects that counted for half your grade, cheerleading practice, and detention…

A thousand things were swirling in my head, and by the time third period came, I didn’t know whether I needed a nap, a drink, or a vacation on a desert island.

I was so distracted that I didn’t even realize who had sat next to me in history until five minutes into the lecture.

Our teacher was telling us we were going to watch a movie that day about the Bolshevik Revolution and that we’d have to turn in a project on it next week.

Great, I said to myself, more work. Just what I need.

“You can choose from the following topics: the origins of the revolution and the justifications for it, Lenin’s role in the First World War, or the socioeconomic consequences of the Russian Civil War.”

I blew out a long breath. It was all so boring! I decided to raise my hand.

“Yes, Kamila?” Mr. Stow said.

“Can’t we choose something else?”

“If it has to do with the Bolshevik Revolution, sure, but you need to get my approval first.”

I nodded as the teacher turned off the lights and started the film.

“You’re going to do Anastasia, right?” the person next to me said.

I was startled and looked over to see Taylor. I hadn’t even realized he was there. I could barely tell he was looking at me in the scant light coming from the TV in the front of the room.

“How’d you know?” I asked, grinning.

“When you were little, you were obsessed with her. I want to be a grand duchess , you used to say. You even made us call you Anastasia one whole summer.”

It was true. Blame Meg Ryan: she did the voice of Anastasia in the movie, and I used to want to watch it over and over. I got mad when someone told me it was mostly made up and that the real Anastasia had been murdered along with her whole family in an attack by the Bolsheviks.

“If you want, I could help,” he whispered in my ear.

“I doubt you’d really be much help.”

“Hey, I know all kinds of stuff about Anastasia. Like how most of her servants hated her because they said she was picky and annoying.”

“That’s a lie,” I responded softly. “Lots of them said she was brilliant and she made jokes that used to crack everyone up.”

“She was a spoiled brat.”

“She was different.”

“Is that what you used to tell yourself when you’d cry because we wanted to play one game and you wanted to play another?”

It was true. My tantrums had been legendary, even if I’d never admit that aloud.

“Are you calling me spoiled, then?”

“I’m calling you precious.”

His answer surprised me, and he knew it. And because it was dark and nobody would see, Taylor reached over, grabbed a lock of my hair, and tugged it softly. He whispered to me again, but his tone had changed—it was deeper, more intense, more bewitching.

“Since yesterday, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss we almost shared, Kami. I want you…” His lips were so close to my neck, I started to tremble.

I thought of how he looked at me, how he had always protected me as a kid, and I knew he was someone who would never hurt me, who would take care of me and make me happy. I knew it—I could feel it in my heart. He was the same guy as always, the guy who always made me feel safe.

“Taylor…” I began, but I had no idea what in the hell I was supposed to say. And I didn’t get the change to formulate the words because he kissed me before I could stop him.

I felt a tingle inside like champagne bubbles. He felt strong, resolute. Before I knew it, we were making out in the middle of class, with everyone around us and the teacher just a few feet away. And each kiss stretched on like an eternity…

He reached between my legs, and I trapped his hand with my thighs, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him close.

His tongue twisted around mine. I could hardly breathe as his fragrance overwhelmed me.

I couldn’t believe it. I was kissing Taylor Di Bianco.

So many things passed through my head just then: my mother, his mother, how we were friends, my ex, Taylor’s brother…

“Fuck,” I murmured as his lips glided over mine and his hand rubbed my thigh. I tried to stop him before it got out of hand, but before I could, the lights came on and the teacher was standing there staring at us.

“Taylor and Kamila, go straight to the principal’s office.”

Shit .