I release a laugh, opening another pot of soup.
- It hurts me, you know. - I say making a gesture that resembled a stab wound to the chest. - I thought my presence alone would be enough.
Brooke laughs, choking on a little soup.
- Dream on, playboy!
I nod my head in relief that she apologized to me. Sitting in one of the armchairs, we had engaged in a lively conversation on the theme of the thesis, until I touched on the subject of Aron and his entourage of losers. Brooke is amazed at the story I tell about the approach in the courtyard.
- You shouldn't have done that! - she says in a worried tone. - Now Aron won't leave you alone and I don't want you to get hurt because of me.
I smile at her, then, with arrogance, I say almost in a whisper.
- Thank you for your concern, but you shouldn't! - I mean seriously. - You've seen me fight, you know whose son I am... There's no reason to fear for me.
She sighs with a face.
- Your arrogance amazes me, you know that? - she says, making a face.
- Ryder? Who are your parents? - Jane asks.
I choke on the question. I'd forgotten that Jane was in the room. I make a face, looking at her uncomfortably. Brooke stares at me, and before I open my mouth to say something, she changes the channel.
- Hey! Jane complains. - I was watching!
- No, he's not! - she says emphatically. - If I were paying attention to the drawings, I wouldn't be asking questions that didn't fit.
- I didn't ask a pointless question, I was just curious. - she says shrugging her shoulders. - The way you said it, it looked like your parents were mobsters.
Brooke shakes his head from side to side and I let out a laugh.
- They're not mobsters. - I answer by lowering my head. - It's just that I don't really like talking about my dad. My mother is already a famous and very loving painter.
- Ah! That's cool! - she says. - Must be really nice to have a mother painter.
- Yes, it is! - I answer with a smile. - She'll be exhibiting at the MET in a few days. If you want, I can get you tickets.
- Sure! - she responds with excitement. - I love the MET and I'm a lover of the arts.
- I'll bet you do!
Brooke has a laugh. It was very easy to talk about my mother, but I could not even mention my father's name. My phone rings with a message from my mother.
- Speaking of the angel. - I say raise the phone and show the screen.
I get up from the couch, going to the dumpster and throwing out the soup can. I wash the dishes in the sink under the admired gaze of the two girls.
- Well, I'd love to be able to be admired as a store mannequin, but I need to help Ms. Melanie with the paintings. - I say smiling at both of you, flashing out of some kind of trance. - See you in class tomorrow?
Brooke rises up, comes towards me and walks me to the door.
- I'm still recovering. - Brooke responds with a sigh, then a smile on his side. - We can schedule it in the library and start research if you want. Not many people show up from campus there.
- Okay. Okay. - I mean smiling and kissing your forehead. - Take care and enjoy the soup. Bye, Jane!
She waved at me, without taking her eyes off the TV, which was back on the cartoon channel.
- You knew she was crazy, didn't you?
- Yeah, but I don't know what I'd do without her.
I'll let out a laugh.
- See you, Evans!
- See you, Taylor!
Laughing, I walk down the hall with some girls stopping to look at me. I smile and wave at some I know and then a little buzz. I don't know how those people liked to live amidst gossip. That was starting to bother me, too. I am surprised by my thoughts, because I did not use to care about what others think or stop thinking.
I walk to the motorcycle, I climb up and I start. I'll follow you to my mother's apartment. Around nine, after I finish the separation of the paintings, I return home and go straight to the bath. I take off my shirt in front of the mirror and look at the tattoo I got the day I finished with Leila. She represented all the sorrow and suffering that I had already felt. I pass my hand over my chest and smile as I contemplate the mirror. I open my pants, while I take off my boots and finish undressing, putting the dagger on top of the sink, attached to the hem. Placing both hands against the wall, I relax under the jet of hot water. I stand still for a long time, until I finish my bath and go straight to my bed, where I throw myself and immediately fall into a deep sleep full of strange dreams.
***
It's been a week since we've been on some kind of truce. Everyone wondered why we started hanging out together and soon the gossip started. I did everything I
