Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Had I been selfish like Mrs. M implied a few years ago? I can’t hold on to Leka forever, but the idea of sharing him with someone else makes my heart want to shrivel up into a lump of coal.
Leka gets up and slides into my side of the booth. He pulls me close, and at the first touch of his hand on my back, I start sobbing like a baby.
“I don’t need a wife. I don’t want a wife.” He rubs my back. “You’re enough for me, Bitsy.”
I snake my arms around his neck and cling like a monkey. “If you want a girlfriend, you should have one. I’m okay with that.” That’s another lie.
“I promise that if I find some girl that I like enough to call her my girlfriend, I won’t let anyone stand in my way, okay? Not even you.”
That’s exactly what I asked for him to say, but it doesn’t feel good to hear it. Still, this is about what Leka needs. I take a few breaths, rub my eyes against his jacket and then pull away.
“Okay,” I say, my eyes fixed on the sleeve of his dark jacket where my tears have left a shiny mark. I pick up a napkin and wipe the moisture away.
“Do you—do you need a mom, Bitsy?” he asks carefully.
I jerk my head up. “No. You’re all I need. I swear it.”
A smile appears at the corners again. His hand comes up to cup my skull. “I believe you. So, we are in agreement. It’s you and me, Bitsy.”
I turn my face into his hand and press a kiss there. “You and me, Leka. Always.”
I swear I feel him tremble.
18
Bitsy
One year later
“You looking at the clock isn’t going to make him come home any sooner,” Mrs. M says.
I set my phone down. “I was seeing if anyone from school texted me,” I lie.
“And did they?”
“No.” That much is true. I’ve only one good friend at St. Vincent’s and she has a no texting after nine p.m. rule.
Mrs. M clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, the sound blending in with the tapping of her knitting needles against each other. “You should make more friends. It’d be good for you to get out of this apartment.”
“Why?” I look around. “I like it here.” It’s my favorite place. It’s where Leka and I’ve made our marks for the last four years. There’s the gouge in the wood floor in the entryway where Leka had dropped the coat rack we’d bought down in the Village and the dent in the wall right outside my bedroom made from the big globe I insisted on buying. Under the sofa is the nail polish stain I’d made when I was ten. I’d thought Leka would be so mad, but he just smiled and rubbed his hand across the top of my head. The kitchen table has scrapes and paint stains and a burn mark from the glue gun that we’ve used on so many school projects.
“You should be in a building with more kids or maybe a house outside the city with a yard and a dog.” Clickety-clack go her needles.
“A yard and a dog sounds like a lot of work.” I pull up my knees and lay my head on them, wishing that Leka was back already.
“Out of the city, you’d get more sunshine,” she goes on as if I hadn’t spoken. “And there’d be more parks, more people, more fresh air.”
It sounded like Mrs. M wanted to get out of the city. I like the busyness and the fact I can get anywhere by myself just using the subway. I’m only a single stop from Marjory’s, although I never go there unless Leka is with me. But knowing I’m only a ten-minute train ride from him makes me feel better.
“I heard that Assumption is hosting the sweetheart dance this year. Have you figured out who you’re going to ask?”
“Nope.”
“There’s no one that you don’t have a crush on? I hear the boys at Assumption are very handsome. And from good families, too.”
The smell from the strawberry lotion on my legs mixes with the lemon polish of the floor wax I used earlier when I draw a breath. Underneath those tones, I swear I can smell Leka’s earthy, male scent. I inhale deeply, trying to concentrate on it instead of the stuff Mrs. M keeps nattering on about. Stuff I don’t care about. I close my eyes and I inhale again. There it is. I hold my breath and fill myself with him.
Why would I want a boy when I have Leka? No one compares to him. No one at Assumption is as tall or broad-shouldered. No one’s hair falls just the right way over his forehead. No one’s hands send shivers down my spine. No one’s deep voice soothes me when I’m anxious. No one but Leka. I think I’ve always known it was going to be him, even before I realized that the connection we had was more than just brother and sister. So no, there are no boys at Assumption that I have a crush on. There would be no boys for me, ever. Only Leka.