I am Aveline, and the morning after the club I stood in the kitchen door and did not go in.
The room smelled of garlic and tomatoes, and I waited to be told I was in the way.
Alba: Come here, piccola. You're not a ghost, so stop standing there like one.
Alba: I'm making the Sunday sauce. You're going to learn it.
I shook my head and wrote fast on my pad. I burn water.
Alba: Then you'll learn to burn it better. Come.
She put the wooden spoon in my hand and closed my fingers around it.
My whole arm went stiff, because a spoon in my hand was a thing Casper could take and hit me with.
Alba: Breathe. Stir slow. Nobody in this house hits you for stirring wrong.
Her hand came over mine, warm and dry, and she moved it in a slow circle.
Alba: There. See? The sauce don't care if you're quiet.
My throat did that thing where it closed up, and I nodded like a stupid fool.
I wrote one line and turned the pad so she could read it. I don't want to ruin it.
Alba: Ruin it? It's tomatoes, baby, not a fucking bomb.
She laughed so loud that I jumped, and then she saw me jump and her laugh died.
Alba: Sorry. I'm loud. I'll try to be quieter.
I shook my head hard. I wanted her loud. Loud was better than quiet and careful.
Alba: That piece of shit Casper charged you for every breath you took. I know men like him.
Alba: A bastard like that thinks a bruise is a receipt.
I heard Casper's voice in my head anyway, right against my ear, the way he always said it.
You useless little bitch, you're a bill I keep paying on, and you'll never be worth what you cost me.
Kindness had a price. I just had not found out what Alba's price was yet.
Alba: Kindness is free, piccola. Say it back to me in your head if you can't say it out loud.
Alba: Free. No bill. No catch. I'll say it every day until you believe me.
Tears came up hot behind my eyes, and I dragged my sleeve across my face before she could look.
Alba: Don't cry in the sauce. It gets salty, and then Mattia complains, and I have to hit him.
A laugh came out of me. It was a small ugly sound, but it came out.
Mattia: Ma, is that my sauce or hers?
Alba: Hers. Yours is the one you burned when you were twelve.
Mattia: I was fifteen, and it was one time.
He dipped a finger in the pot, and Alba smacked his hand with the spoon.
Alba: You want salmonella, you eat at the club.
He laughed, and then he looked at me, and his face went softer.
He pulled a small black phone out of his pocket and held it out to me.
Mattia: This is for you.
I did not take it. I wrote on my pad. I can't pay for this.
Mattia: It's not for sale, so you can't pay for it. Take it.
I took it like it was glass, and it was warm from his pocket.
There was one number in it. His.
Mattia: There's one number in it. Mine. You press it and it rings on my phone, no matter what I'm doing.
I flipped the pad around and showed him a single short word, asking him why he would do that.
Mattia: Because you don't have a voice, so I'm giving you a way to reach me.
Mattia: And if that bastard Casper or Tobias ever comes near you, I hear it from you first.
Mattia: Then I pay them a visit and take their fucking hands apart, and I won't be gentle about it.
Nobody had ever given me a thing that did not come with a hand around my wrist after.
I held it against my chest and I wanted to say thank you so bad that my chest hurt.
He stood behind me and put his thumb over mine, and I felt his chest against my back.
Mattia: Green button. Hold it. Then talk, or don't talk. I'll hear you breathing and I'll come.
My skin went hot everywhere he touched, and I did not pull away.
Alba: Are you two going to stand there breathing on each other, or are we eating?
Mattia: We're eating. She's got sauce on her hand.
He wiped it off with his thumb, slow, and put his thumb in his mouth like it was nothing.
That night I sat on my quilt with the phone in both hands.
I wanted to trust him, and that scared me more than Casper did.
Sweet men had taken it back by morning. Not one gave me a way to call for help.