Inizio (COMPLETED)

45. Act Now

Zhara: act now, dwell later.

I was dwelling alright. I grabbed onto the toilet seat once again as I hurled the contents of my distraught stomach. I assume finding out your father, whom you believed was dead for 20 years, warrants you the right to hurl uncontrollably for three days straight.

"Hisusy," my mother said upon walking into my bathroom. "It smells like the streets of Alaverdi in here." She had a glass of water and two Motrin pills in her hands.

I spit out the residue of my previous action and reached out for the glass. I chucked the pills into my mouth and rested my head on my arm that was stretched across the seat. With my eyes closed, I heard the water from the sink splash and moments later felt a damp towel pressed against my forehead.

"Zhara, you should really eat."

I groaned.

"No. I can't." She huffed at my response and leaned against the door frame.

"You quit your job. It does not mean you stop eating," she said. Her short frame now hovered above me as she ripped out the pages I had in my hand.

"It also does not mean you continue to work even though you quit." My mother shoved the papers underneath her arm and picked me up. The action alone had my stomach gurgling and an unsettling, un-palpable bulge forming in my throat.

She walked me to my bed where I lay down almost immediately. I'd told her everything that had happened leading up to me resigning from the Mafia of the vile people know as the Fiorentino's. Of course, I spared her the details of my father's existence. My excuse? There was no proof. Visually anyway; theoretically it all made sense. Why tell her and have her whole world come crashing down again, this time not because of my father's death but because of his sudden entity, just for it to all turn out to be a fabrication of my overworked mind?

She'd been upset at me momentarily because I'd lied to her about me being in danger during the time of Marcos capture, but it was soon replaced with sympathy when I'd told her how much I regretted getting involved with the Fiorentinos and their mafia; at least that was the truth.

Marco...

I'd replayed the scene incessantly in my mind; I'd refused to look at Marco upon my resignation announcement. I couldn't bear to see his expression. I didn't want to remember the expression he held on his face when I'd single handedly discovered everything about my father and Mr. Fiorentino's disgusting agreement; I didn't want to see his face as I revealed the monster his father truly was. I wanted the last time I saw him to have been a blur. A blur of good memories only... I suppose. When I thought of him, I only thought of the stringless sex; there was no attachment there. Simply two grown adults indulging in the sexual tension and the stress of damn near dying to do ones job to save the other.

He was just my client. And there were many more to come—none of which were in anyway associated with my family or the Mafia.

I let my mom place the covers over me and watched as she threw the papers from  underneath her arm onto my desk.

"I have to go get ready for work and pick up Maïna's comforter and sheets from the hold center at the mall. She'll be coming back from her study abroad in less than a week and everything needs to be ready. I'll come in to check on you before I leave. I'll even bring you food so you don't have to get up. I made your favorite soup which will hopefully calm you." My mom walked over the me and placed my Ching between her thumb and index finger. "Zhara, the only way you'll get better is to let them go. Don't dwell; that's what's making you so sick," she said, before turning around and arranging my clothes that I'd thrown on the floor.