𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇

XXXIII

— RORI —

I was discharged from hospital in the afternoon, though my doctor wishes to see me for a checkup in a week's time.

He constructed me a meal plan for the coming weeks, in order to provide my body the nutrients it requires to return to full health. I am not happy about this in the slightest, but my brothers agreed that they will take turns to cook for me, and that they, too, will eat the same meals as me, to ensure i do not feel as though i am missing out.

It's not entirely bad, but we are used to eating foods of a certain cuisine, like that of our own culture, and so it does seem to me like a great sacrifice. My doctor especially values the importance of fish in one's diet and wouldn't agree to exchange it with pasta when i so kindly asked him to.

I'm not too fond of him anymore.

Alas, my first dinner will be enjoyed in the company of Zephaniah and Yakov, at the latter's West Hollywood apartment.

While i don't feel positive about this, i am just glad to be out of hospital.

Though i could not treat myself to a long soak in a bubble bath this afternoon, as i so desperately wished to, after spending four nights in hospital, i was overjoyed by the privilege of standing in a shower that is my own, even if i had to be careful when washing myself.

I reckon our house has doubled in size since the last time i saw it, also...

"I can't believe you've been here for three months and Teddy is the only one of us to have set foot in this apartment of yours. Other than Zephaniah, that is," i tell Yakov, from the passenger seat of his vintage Aston Martin.

Only my second eldest brother would drive such a refined car as this. I doubt he'd even allow my brothers the privilege of driving it. Though, with their flashy sports cars, i don't think they care either way.

All of my siblings' cars are expensive, but Yakov's are surely up there. This particular model is one of a kind, both figuratively and literately; a sleek burgundy color, as rich as the wine that he drinks, with the most pristine interior and unique details. I reckon it might have even made an appearance in some sixties' blockbuster film.

I once joked that if we ever went broke, Yakov could just sell one of his classics to pay for mine and the boys' college tuition. He simply laughed in response.

"How long have you had an apartment here, anyway?" i ask him, before he has time to respond. "Don't tell me you've been staying there all of these years and not once thought to visit us."

The last time i was in a car, it was Damiano's Porsche. I haven't been driven by Yakov in years, and, even then, it has happened very few times. Unlike his brothers, Yakov didn't rush to get his license as soon as he turned eighteen...Not that the others weren't driving before then, but still.

Predictably, my second eldest brother was far too focused on completing his schooling, and, in the end, only attained his licence at twenty-one, after being in The States for over a year. I didn't forget his calm and collected manner also applied to his driving, as it does everything else in his life, but, given my experience with Damiano, i half expected him to take off and speed his way through the crowded traffic.

"Well, no, i haven't had it that long," he responds, vaguely, turning on his window wipers as the rain begins to thicken.

Rain is such a rarity in California; so much so that the last time i recall seeing droplets of it on a car window was when Yakov, Xavi, and i were rushing an unconscious Zephaniah to hospital.