He clears his throat. “That’s not my name.”
For a moment I think that he’s messing with me, but there’s no hint of amusement on his face.
“I don’t understand.” I think about the name badge he was wearing when we first met. I know I didn’t read it wrong. “What’s your name, then?”
He looks from me to the coffee table, where I left the notebook that I use to write my letters to Luca. He reaches for it and pulls out the pen that’s tucked into the spiral binding. Half of the pages in the notebook have been ripped out, and the few that are left are blank. Seeing him hold my notebook that I’ve used to write countless letters to Luca makes me feel uneasy. I watch, waiting, as he writes something on the first blank page. I’m curious about what he has to say that he can’t say out loud.
He has the notebook angled away so that I can’t see what he’s writing. When he finishes, he rips the page out, folds it up, and then hands it to me. I hold the folded page for a moment. I don’t know why I’m nervous to open it and read what he wrote. I look up at him and see that he’s watching me, waiting. I unfold it.
Dear Naomi,
I hope that you forget to change the litterbox tonight, and Roland poops in your laundry basket.
Love,
Luca
I stare at the letter, trying to process what this is. For a second, I think that it’s a trick, but it’s the same familiar handwriting that I’ve been reading for years. I raise my gaze slowly from the letter to him. Now I understand why he interrupted me.
I feel like the rug has been swept out from under me.
“You’re Luca.”
“Yes. I know that I should have told you—”
“Get out,” I say before he can continue. My body is trembling with anger. I scramble to get off the couch. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. I stand up and point to the door. He stays on the couch, watching me like he’s not sure if I’m serious.
“Get out,” I repeat. “Leave. Now.”
“Don’t you want to talk about this?”
“No. I don’t even know who you are. Get out of my apartment.”
“It’s me, Naomi. I haven’t changed. Everything that we’ve talked about, that we’ve done together – that was the real me.”
I look him over, from his dark hair to his ice-blue eyes, to his body, sitting on my couch, and even though I’ve spent so much time with him, seen him and touched him so many times, it feels like I’m looking at a stranger. I can’t make sense of the fact that he’s the same person I’ve been writing to for years. He’s not Luca, he’s—
A new wave of anger crashes over me. He must have known that I had his name wrong this whole time. He took advantage of the fact I didn’t know who he was. He lied to me.
He stands up, which feels unfair because now he towers over me.
“Please, Naomi. Let’s talk about this.”
His tone is reasonable, which makes me even angrier.
“How am I supposed to believe anything you’re saying when you’ve been lying to me since the beginning?”
He steps toward me, reaching out his hand. His fingertips graze my arm, and I feel my resolve drop just a little. I take a step back, not wanting to be drawn into him. I need to be able to think clearly so that I don’t fall for any more lies.
“Don’t touch me,” I warn him. “Where did you even get that fake name badge?”
He frowns. “What fake name badge?”
His act of pretending not to know what I’m talking about makes me even angrier. “That badge you wore when we first met to trick me into thinking your name was Jake Dubois.”
His brow remains furrowed. It’s almost believable that he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Then his eyes widen. “Jake Dubois is the other vet at the aquarium. I borrowed his scrubs once when mine got soiled taking care of an injured—” He shakes his head, cutting himself off. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t mean to trick you. I didn’t realize his badge was on me.”
I don’t believe anything he’s saying. “You should leave.”
