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I acted as if I had not heard, as if he had not spoken. Those words meant nothing to me, particularly coming from him.
“You were wrong, Gram,” I said softly, tone emotionless because I was resigned to the awful, lonely truth of it. “Love doesn’t save our souls. It kills them.”
I could hear Dante literally grinding his teeth behind me.
For some strange reason, Dante sat me next to him in the front row for the service. I didn’t have the energy to fight him on it, so I took my seat, glancing surreptitiously around at all of the familiar faces and the significance of where they were sitting and whom they were sitting with.
Predictably, I clocked Tiffany’s location first, but she’d placed herself so close to us, directly behind Dante in fact, that it was hard not to.
I almost moved when she first sat down, almost got up and made a scene, but something kind of wonderful happened to stop me.
As she sat, mere moments after we had, she perched herself on the edge of her seat, putting both of her delicate hands on Dante’s shoulders.
I had my head craned around to stare daggers at her. She was opening her mouth to say something, I’ll never know what, because we were all distracted by what Dante did next.
Without looking at her, without so much as acknowledging her, he pulled his shoulders out of her hands, leaning far forward to avoid her touch completely.
As he did this he glanced at me, his hand cupping the spot on my leg that had so soothed him earlier.
I allowed it to stay there purely for spite and turned my head again to meet her eyes, letting her see what was in mine.
You might have had him for a bit, my triumphant gaze told her, but it was all you’ll get.
You’re nothing to him. Insignificant.
Whether he’s with me or not, it won’t help you. He’s done with you.
Whether I was the love or hate of his life, nothing and no one would ever overshadow me.
I swallowed the memory of every woman he had ever known.
Swallowed it whole.
I covered his hand with my own, still staring at her until, finally, her face drawn tight, eyes flashing at me, she looked away.
The victory was short lived, however.
I took my hand away from Dante’s when I saw who was taking the seat beside Tiffany.
I faced forward right as his hand fell away from my knee.
He hadn’t turned around, but I could tell he knew that his mother was behind him.
Dante never touched me when she was near. It had been this way for as long as I could remember.
I used to have a problem with it, used to be sensitive about it, but just then it suited me fine. The less he touched me the better.
His mother, Adelaide, made a big show of greeting Tiffany. Kissing both of her cheeks, telling her how wonderful she looked, complimenting everything about her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
She didn’t acknowledge me, nor I her. This was not the place for it.
There wasn’t a civil word to be had between the two of us. There never had been.
I thought she was evil, and she thought I was trash. Neither of us would ever change our minds.
I was surprised, though, that there was no greeting between her and Dante. He didn’t turn around, and she didn’t take exception to it.
That was a new and interesting development, to be sure, one that I didn’t mind at all.
