by Cat Mann
Chapter 5
Little Talks
I dedicated my Friday night to personal research. A Google search for dream patterns that matched my own yielded nothing. The descriptions I entered evidently were unique to me. I even Googled Maya Xenos; she was nowhere to be found. I then moved on to researching my father, something that I had been putting off since the moment I heard his name mentioned at Providence.
Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to know, I wanted desperately to know, anything I could find out about him. But there was also part of me that was terrified. Why had my mom kept his life a secret from me? And why had she gone to such great lengths to hide his name in all the legal documents? There had to be something about him that someone did not want me to know. I opened my Google search engine and typed in “Adrian Moirai.” The very first entry was an L.A. Times story from seventeen years ago.
Business mogul Adrian Moirai, 31, of Dana Point, California, was found shot to death Tuesday outside the White Memorial Medical Center in suburban Los Angeles. His assailant is believed to have been a member of the Kakos family, a small, European mob-style group about which almost nothing is known. Times sources indicate that Moirai had been caught up in the Kakos' activities for some time. Neither the businessman’s family nor his friends were willing to comment on Moirai's death. According to Detective Jason Scott of the L.A. Police Department, the assailant remains at large. The L.A.P.D. assures the residents of Los Angeles that Moirai's murder was an isolated event and that the force will do its best to find the attacker and put the matter to rest.
A horrible feeling of sickness overcame me. I did not believe that my mother could ever have been involved with someone who was a member of a gang. Surely the L.A.Times had gotten the story all wrong. I slammed shut my MacBook with more force than necessary and went down the hall towards the kitchen for a bottle of water, then spent the rest of the weekend in solitude. Sunday evening I joined the girls on my floor for another sub-par romance.
The next week seemed to drag by; I got used to my schedule and practiced the art of sleeping with a pillow over my head to drown out my nightly screams. I relived my mother’s death night after night. Each time I tried to save her, and each time I failed.
As I pondered my parents and searched for information, Ari occupied my thoughts less and less. But whenever I caught a fleeting glance of him, the weird tummy thing would happen and a rabble of butterflies seemed to take flight in my stomach. When we did once end up in the dorm elevator together, I froze as soon as the door closed. My palms got sticky and my breath caught in my lungs. I attempted to seem busily involved at looking over my chem notes, but I'm pretty sure he knew better. Neither of us spoke a word and I could feel the beating of my heart behind my ears. When the doors finally opened on the twelfth floor, I heard him let out a breath of relief, then watched as he got off and walked straight to his room.
I had been at school for three weeks now and homecoming weekend was just a couple of weeks away. Emily had told me the weekend would consist of non-stop partying. Mia had decided that a “non-stop partying” kind of weekend would be the best kind for her visit. I was eager to see her, but uneasy too about my feelings for Ari. I could see Mia believing her intervention to be a necessity.
My nightmares continued and I woke up most nights crying out or screaming breathlessly. Often Ari would tap on the door and wait for me to answer and tell him that everything was okay. One night in particular the dream was so vivid and so terrifying that when I opened my eyes, I didn’t immediately recognize where I was. I was sobbing and confused; moments later, there was a tap at my door and this time it slowly opened.
“Are you okay in here?”
It was Ari.
“Mm hmm. I’m sorry I woke you.”
He shook his head softly. “You didn’t; I couldn’t sleep.”
“Oh,” I said as I watched him walk into my room and sit next to me on my bed. My mind went from confused and scared to racing … and my heart began to pound. The racing and pounding had nothing to do with my nightmare. Ari gently brushed a strand of my hair away from my face and tucked it behind my ear. His touch was electrifying and my heart beat in triple time.
“You moved here from Chicago.”
“Mm hmm.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, frowning. The frown looked all wrong on his face. “What do you miss about it?”
I sat there for a minute in the quiet darkness before speaking. I let out a breath.
“I miss everything. The noises and the way the city smells after a rain. I miss the gray sky, the gray streets and the gray buildings. I miss how I can look any way I want to look and be anyone I want to be without anyone giving me a second glance. I miss my home.”
“Don’t you like it here?”
I shook my head, dislodging the strand of hair from behind my ear.
“Not really.”
His frown deepened.
“Are you having nightmares?” His voice was almost a whisper. He moved my hair once again away from my face. His touch was soft. His fingers lingered for a tiny moment on my cheek. He gave me goose bumps.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, I don’t.”
Ari nodded, blew a breath out between his cheeks and rubbed his hands up his face and through his hair. He stood up and gave me a tiny smile.
“Good night, Ava.”
This same scenario went on for a couple more days. Ari came into my room each night to check on me. He sat on the bed and asked me a question, I answered it and he got up to leave. I began to dread the moment that he would leave. But what I hated the absolute most was the fact that Ari wouldn’t even look at me, let alone speak to me, when we crossed paths during the days. He acted as though I didn’t exist. I would watch him joke around with people in class or walk with a group of his friends in the hallway and think why can’t you talk to me when someone else is around? What’s wrong with me?
One night, I woke up to him shaking me awake and I was mortified.
“Hey, hey, shhhh … it’s okay, Ava.”
I blinked my wet eyes up at Ari and he brushed his thumbs across my cheeks.
“Are you alright?”
“Mmm … Yes. I am so sorry for waking you up again.”
“Stop it with the sorry crap. Are you sure you’re ok?”
“I am fine, really. Just dreams.”
He stared at me for a long moment and took a seat on my bed.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Ok … but you know, talking about whatever is bothering you might help.”
“I said no.”
We sat there for a minute, neither of us speaking. I was still trying to calm down from my nightmare when Ari broke the silence.
“Who are you?”
He looked at me with his deep dark eyes. They were burning into me while he awaited my answer. This was the second time that I had been asked the question and I still didn’t know how to answer it.
“I don’t know what you mean. Who are you?”
“Who I am doesn’t matter,” he answered. After a time he asked, “Do you think it’s possible to lie without saying a word?”
“Yes, Ari, I do.”
“I do, too. In fact, sometimes it’s impossible not to.”
“Why? What lies are you telling?”
“Lies about you.”
Ari stood up and walked towards the door. He paused with his hand on the door handle. “Ava, remember that if you need anything, let me know.”
I watched as he closed the door behind him.