“Anita,” I swallowed.
“No, you listen. You know the truth now, and I’m warning you to leave me alone.” She didn’t see the flowers, distracted by the fury I’d stoked in her. I caught her wrists in my hand.
“Anita, the Lady of Death.” I jerked my head to the plant, voice guttural. The anger melted, her claws softening. She made a soft hiss of excitement as she shoved past me, shaking as she struggled to put her gloves on.
“Quick, quick.” She thrust the metal pan into my chest. I moved it under the petals. “Hold this.” Her voice quivered as she reached out and snipped the petals. They fluttered into the pan. The smell of rotting flesh filled the room, and I choked on it. Anita clicked her tongue, her lip quirking upwards.
“Don’t tell me you can kill someone, but you can’t smell their likeness? I can’t be married to a man with a weak stomach.” She sighed as the last petal fluttered down. Using a small pair of tongs, she loaded the petals into a jar full of viscous liquid. My lip smarted from Anita’s ravaging, head fuzzy from the force of my wife. I pressed my finger to my mangled lip with a wince.
“If you expect sweetness from me, you’ll be sorely disappointed, Romeo.” Anita noticed the movement, finishing up her methodical process with the petals.
“When I promised Paolo I would marry you, I didn’t know who you were. As we courted, I spent a lot of time watching you. I never intended to lose my heart with this marriage. In my hands, I had this precious, breakable innocence. It destroyed me. I had to love you from afar because what’s in here?” I rubbed my chest. “Was too dark for you. I despaired at staining you beyond repair if I touched you. I thought if I could stay away, you could remainas sweet and innocent as you appeared. But I should have paid attention to what had made me fall for you. Not the smile you’ve perfected or the agreeable way you flattered me. It was the moments when you relaxed when you thought no one was watching you. I didn’t recognize what it was. You were letting your true self peek through. That was what made me fall for you. The kindred nature of our spirits was obvious to my unconscious all along. I won’t make that mistake again.” I promised.
“Your words mean nothing to me.” She shook her head, not believing me for a second. She focused on shifting her stored petals onto a shelf, fussing with the lid. The petals floated, and a niggle entered my brain.
“You killed him, didn’t you?”
Her shoulder blades jammed together, and her fingers splayed across the wooden bench.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Lanton.” I breathed. “You don’t have to hide it from me. I wanted him dead. It was the entire reason I married you. I wanted The Gardener’s…your help, to deal with him.”
She spun around, her expression inscrutable. It occurred to me how deeply this admission might hurt her. I’d lied, misled her with ulterior motives, and she overheard me telling horrible lies about her. I’d apologized for what I’d said, back when she proved she didn’t need me at all. But I hadn’t guessed the lengths of her devious nature. Anita saw so much more than she let on. There was no surprise or shock. She was a blank slate.
“You already knew.” I muttered under my breath. I whipped my head up. “Did you do it for me?”
“I need to clean this up.”
She dismissed me with her back. My jaw ached as I clenched it hard. It didn’t matter what I said. My words meant nothing to her. She needed to see that I meant them. I spun on my heel,undeterred. My gaze was feverish as I drank in the dark blanket swallowing the sky. I made a silent vow.
I would win my wife again.
16
Age 17
“Don’t you want to join me? It’s my birthday, I insist.”
My mom made a disgruntled noise. This was the first time I’d seen her today. She’d given up trying to make my birthday a civilized affair years ago. A present would have been an insult, and she knew it. My mother carried her beige suede handbag, and she held it like a shield against her chest. I offered her a plate, chuckling when she took a step back.
“Or do you have some pressing travel to attend to?”
The maid pressed past her, carrying Mom’s bulky luggage. I raised my eyebrows.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Anita, I can’t–I can’t do this with you anymore. Lord knows I did everything I could. But y-you’re made wrong.” Her lips flattened on her blunt admission. I cocked my head, a curious ache spreading through my stomach. She feared me, especially now that she knew there wasn’t a line I wouldn’t cross. I didn’t blame her. There wasnothing in my chest but a gaping, black hole. It winnowed out any warmth, unfeeling since my father disappeared. But the ache pulsed as she looked at me and shuddered.
“Well,” I took a sip of my tea, relishing the bitter aftertaste of my added ingredient. “Enjoy your trip.”
She blinked, face scrunched as I continued my lunch. Her fingers dug into the handbag, leaving desperate marks.
“I’m leaving for good. I’ve managed to find a relative who will take you in. Remember your cousin Paolo? You used to love playing with him when you were younger.”
Paolo? I remembered him being brash, with a clash of freckles over his nose. We’d also been ten years old. My mom despised me so much that she was leaving me to become someone else’s problem. The ache intensified, and I pressed my palm flat against my stomach. Perhaps indigestion.
“I see. It would be too much to leave me unsupervised. The poor, innocent girl I am,” I snickered.
My mom stared at me, shaking her head. She rocked forward on her toes, as if considering coming closer. To what? Kiss me on the cheek and squeeze me in a hug? My stomach clenched. She decided against it.
