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𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 ─ 𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚜
Christian brings me to our room. My hand dropped long ago. The lie deactivated once we made it through the halls. He gave me the privacy to change as did I for him. Then I slide into the large king size bed. The white whites beckoning me to lose myself in them.
I sink into the pillows as Christian grabs another pillow and blanket from the closet. He lays them on the couch set against the wall and sits on top of it.
I bite my lip, feeling a suddenly wave of guilt. He shouldn't be sleeping on that couch. I should be, but I knew he wouldn't let me sleep there either.
"Christian?" I call his name, and he looks up at me, "Sleep on the bed."
"No, Maria, we went through this."
"You can sleep up here with me." My eyes shift to the empty spot to my right, "It's alright... I insist."
Christian looks at me wearily then comes to sit at the edge of the bed. He slips his shirt off, and I realize he didn't sleep with one on. I got full view of the tattoos of his back, next to his shoulder, it read,
post tenebras lux
I didn't know what it meant. Another one sat a bit lower,
perhaps the most painful truth in this life is how much can be stolen from us in such little time.
And all the way at the bottom of his back,
à la folie.
The French phrase roughly translated to 'to insanity' in English. I don't know how I didn't notice these earlier. They were all so poetically beautiful I didn't understand what they meant to him. He was Christian Moretti. A rich boy with a big loving family that had lived in penthouses and rode in limos his whole life. He wasn't insane. He wasn't unfortunate. He was lucky. He was so bloody lucky it made my fists clench and my jaw cement hard in stone.
"Christian?" I whisper after a while because I couldn't fall asleep, "Are you awake?"
"Hmm?" I feel him turn around to face me in the dark.
"C-Can I ask you something?" I turn over, one hand under the pillow.
"Shoot."
"What do you have to worry about?" I pause, "I mean... you're rich, you're like the number one bachelor in New York, you've got power... and a family... what do you even have to worry about? You're whole life is set for you, a-and your father probably even has a long line of woman who'd pay millions to marry you." I bite my lip, "It's terrible, but... at least you have people... I have no one." I'm quiet, and I almost think he isn't going to answer. I keep talking.
"I-I have to worry about bills, and when I'm going to go grocery shopping during the month because I have to ration it out, you know? I don't get paid much at the club and I rarely get modeling gigs. Those don't even pay much anyways... I don't have many friends, I don't have any family... I don't have anything. When you took me out that other day it was the first time I'd eaten at a restaurant since I moved to New York." I sighed, "A-And I lived with foster parents most of my teens." I whisper the last part quietly. I talked to much. I knew I had.
"You're right." He whispers back after a while, "I don't have much to worry about... but there still are things." He adds, "Everybody had something."
"It just gets so hard sometimes." I hear my voice crack as I stare up at the ceiling, "My life sucks." I almost laugh at my pathetic self.
What has happened to me... what has happened so far... I think is one of the worst things that could ever happen to a person. This fake relationship between Christian and I is the best thing that's happened to me so far.
"I know." He murmurs, "I understand." His voice is low and somber. It makes me wonder what happened to him. What made him the way he is? What caused hurricanes to rage on behind his cold eyes.
"My parents are dead, Christian." I say bluntly.
"I-"
"But I lied." I cut him off, "I lied to Kate and to you and Adrian. To everybody who's met me since." I feel hot streams of tears on my cheeks now, "They didn't die in a car accident."
"Maria-"
"A-And," My voice cracks again, "I can't tell you how they did. I can't tell anyone." I cover my mouth with my hand as a quiet sob rakes through my body.
I feel Christian reach over for me, and he pulls me to his chest. I bury my head in his shoulder. He laces his right hand through my hair and his other curled around my waist. Christian was never like this with me. I feel his pity.
"You don't have to tell me everything, love." He whispers in my ear, "Not now." He adds, and suddenly his touch sets me on fire. I am reluctant, but I slide my arms around him too. His skin hot to the touch.
"I am a liar." I say, realizing it myself, "Every time I do it I feel sick to my stomach, but I do it anyways. At dinner, I lied so easily to your sister. To your parents. I hate myself for it."
"Don't say that." He replies sternly as if he really didn't believe one bit of it.
"I've lied to you too, Christian, on multiple occasions. You should hate me for it." I halfway expect him to push me away, but he doesn't.
"I know." He whispers softly. "I've lied to you too." He admits. I don't feel upset by that. I don't feel fazed by it at all. It was only fair, and I'm betting I had lied to him about a lot more things that he had to me.
"I thought you said you'd never lie to me?" I ask. I feel him smile a little. He's glad I remember.
"There's only one lie. Not one that involves you." He shifts under me, his right hand moving from my hair to hold me.
"Is it a big one?"
"Yes." He answers hesitantly, "Is yours?"
"Yes." I admit also, "It's the whole point of my being."
