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Emmanuelle

Marissa had a change of mind about attending the Broadway show, though she was excited about it just the day before. Her headache was still faintly there, but she refused to stay back and miss out on our outings. Saturday went by fast, after I went to see Kline, we headed to downtown Manhattan and explored as much of the city as we possibly could. Even after all of my years of living in the big apple, I never got tired of going in and out of the different places to see. Both, Emillio and Dom were the first ones to voice their tiredness. Marissa and I would have continued running around the city if we could.

That evening we stayed in our luxurious living-room, tired and hungry, and therefore absolutely ravishing the Italian food we ordered in. I was in the middle of stuffing my face with the greasy pizza, when my phone dinged. I thought of ignoring the notification until my eyes read Kline's name. I half-wiped my hand and clicked on the message; it was the location to the place he introduced me to, like I had forgotten how to get there. Along with the time set for that Sunday at 12:00 PM.

"Is it Anthony?" Marissa's eyes always filled with guilt whenever she mentioned him. "Aren't you going to visit him tomorrow? It'll be our last day here."

I could tell that he had been on her mind before this conversation. "No. It's Kline. Asked if we would like to have lunch with him tomorrow. What do you think?" Technically, I only half-lied.

"Oh," She voiced in a tone that was higher pitched. "Okay," She turned back to the screen. Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile, which she pushed into its disappearance.

"OH?" I matched her tone. My eyebrows furrowing as I turned to fully address her. "What's happening here." 

"What?" She shrugged, this time failing to keep her teeth from showing through her wide smile. "I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to! Oh, God." I shook my head at her, "Really? Kline?"

"He's hot. Don't tell me you don't think so." 

"Your brother's going to kill you.". Marissa's excitement died down and her smile turned into a straight line. This one sentence completely ruined the mood. I should not have said that... "I'm sorry." I apologized.

"You said yourself that we need to try to get back to normal. Talking about him like he's still with us; that's not normal, Emmanuelle."

"Talking about him like he's dead isn't either." I disagreed. 

She scoffed, "Well, it's easier for me to accept that he's dead than to keep wondering where he might be." Flames burned within her eyes. "Face it, Emmanuelle. He's gone. We're the ones who have to deal with the aftermath of his actions. And I refuse to believe that he'd purposely leave us on our own. That's not like him and if you believe otherwise then you don't know him that well."

Guilt settled within me. He was alive, I knew that. He did not abandon us, he had to leave. I knew that too. Marissa, however, did not. How could I argue with her when she did not know better? 'The less she knows, the better.' I consoled myself. Such a cliche line, yet for the first time I understood how Dimitri must have felt whenever he used it on me. 

All of the times her light dimmed whenever I brought him up, perhaps it was not because she was sad, but because she felt abandoned, which made her angry. He was the last blood relative she had left, other than Dom, who was far too young to understand what was happening. And although Dimitri was was stubborn, controlling, strict and secretive, above all— he cared deeply for his family. And now Marissa could not count on him. 

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