Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I’m only teasing him, but he gets a pensive look. "You teach me a lot more than you know you do." He doesn't elaborate, and I sit with that for a moment.
“I’m proud of you,” I tell him, words I always craved and never heard. I can’t change the way I was treated, but I can change the way I treat the people I care about. "You have all those people that could drive for you. And even though you’re afraid, you’re still doing it.”
When he doesn’t respond at first, I wonder if I spoke out of turn. Wordlessly, he reaches for my knee and gives me a little squeeze. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, show me what this baby’s got.”
He nods, grinning, drumming his fingers on the wheel. He touches a button, and music plays in the background. It's music I've never heard before, fast-paced like rock music. But it's too soft for me to listen to the words.
When he speaks, I can tell he’s still thinking about what I said. “I like to face things I'm afraid of. That's how you grow. That's how you get stronger. "
I think about that. He's right. If I were to turn away every time I was afraid, I wouldn't be here right now.
"My father terrified me when I was a kid. He was heavy-handed and critical. My mother was no better. By the time I was thirteen years old I was taller and bigger than my father. Ricco, my older brother, showed me how to work out. I got strong, on purpose. And my oldest brother…" His voice trails off. He has another brother? I know Ricco and Timeo, but I didn't know he had another brother. “My oldest brother Niccolo was the one who taught me how to lift."
Huh.
"Why haven't I met Niccolo?"
"Niccolo was killed a few years back."
My heart squeezes. I think of Starla, and what it would be like to lose her. I feel that if she were gone, a very part of my soul would be gone with her.
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you. It felt very different when my father died."
"I can imagine."
It feels wrong to wish that my own father were dead, but I do.
"What are you thinking?"
"I was thinking that… it's sad that I want my father to be dead. But I wouldn't want my sister to die. That would wreck me."
"I love that you're so honest. I can tell that sometimes it costs you. You don't always want to say what's on your mind, you don't always want to answer what I ask you but you do your best. Thank you. Now tell me,” he says with that piercing gaze that gives me a glimpse of the tiger in him, “Why do you wish your father were dead?"
This is a long, long story, and I don't know if I want to get into it right now. I draw in a breath and then let it out, watching the trees on the side of the highway flash by as we drive past them. It strikes me as odd that something as civilized and industrial as a paved road with metal guardrails still has signs of life on the other side.
When Sergio doesn't push me to answer right away, I'm grateful. I have to think about it before I speak.
"We joined the fellowship when I was nine years old. Before then, we lived in a house in the suburbs, and we had friends. I’m the oldest child, and my sister is a few years younger than I am. My father was in charge and my mother did everything he said, never questioning him, but things were a little…freer. When we joined the fellowship, things changed."
"How so?"
I know he's unhappy because his jaw clenches, and his knuckles on the steering wheel whiten. But I keep talking. It feels good to talk about it. No one knows this side of me, and I didn't know how badly I needed to process it.
"My father became more heavy-handed, like yours, for one thing. We were only allowed to wear dresses, and modest ones." I laugh, and it feels a little uncomfortable. "I would be badly punished if anyone in the fellowship saw me wearing something like this." I gesture to what I'm wearing.
"We were very rarely allowed to watch TV, and only something that was deemed appropriate. We were not allowed to listen to popular music, only classical music. Women were subservient to men, and the older men in the community were the ones that made the rules. Mothers and fathers were the ones that dictated who married whom. Marriages were arranged, and when I married my husband, I was expected to obey him. Rules were very strict, and anyone who broke the rules was severely punished. Sometimes we were beaten, sometimes exiled. Sometimes we were given labor to do, but the worst would be excommunication from the fellowship."