His eyes narrowed with brows drawn, clearly caught off-guard by the question. “I told you. I came home from football practice and found you barely moving in a pool of blood on the floor unconscious. I wrapped your arm in a towel and took you to the hospital because I didn’t think an ambulance would make it in time.”
“You didn’t see anyone else around?”
He shook his head slowly as his eyes never left mine. He looked haunted like that night had messed him up too. “No. I wanted to go on a search, go after those fuckers who did this, but there was no time, and I feared the worst. I thought I was going to lose you that night. I couldn’t lose you.”
His words gave me pause, but I dwelled on the menacing threat I’d heard that night. “Are you lying to me?”
“What the actual fuck, Theodora?”
“Did you do it?”
“Where is this coming from?”
“What were you doing in my mother’s room?”
“Do you hear what you’re saying?” He exhaled. “You’re accusing me of trying to…” He watched me like I had a loose screw in my head. “I would never do that. Jesus, you are everyth—”
“Vengeance is mine saith the Lord. Those were the last words I heard before I was shoved through the pane of glass.”
“You never told me that.”
I laughed without humor. “I didn’t remember it until you told me the meaning of your tattoo. Your words triggered my memory. What a coincidence, huh? The voice even sounded like yours come to think of it. Your build the same as the—”
“You really think I’d try to hurt you?” His voice rose as his anger erupted. He was furious. “I fucking protected you. I would’ve done anything for you.”
“Why were you in my mother’s room last week? Don’t tell me it was because you were concerned about her pill addiction.”
“What exactly are you implying?” he questioned with a calmness that oddly incited chaos inside me.
“I don’t trust you. I think you’re a liar, and most of all, I think you’re out for revenge.”
“That’s what you think.” His words were stated slowly, calculated. I didn’t know what to think. My mind was conflicted because I wanted to believe him. Every instinct inside of me rejected the idea he would try to harm me. Every other sense in me was still questioning his motives too.
I jutted my chin out. “Stop talking in circles and tell me the truth.”
He yanked me to him as his eyes never left mine. “You want the truth?” He leaned into me with his dead-eye stare. I nodded warily. “Then you must come with me to hear the whole story.”
“Why should I trust you enough to go anywhere with you?” I asked. He threw that damn word around so much it was losing its meaning.
“Because you want answers, and I think we can both get what we want.”
“The words. The tattoo. Why, Roman?” I pressed. He’d insisted I go home with him in which I quickly refused. Instead, we ended up on a bench outside my dorm under a well-lit area.
“It’s from the Bible. A quote my mother used to say when my brother and I were young. She was very religious and always referred to that quote whenever I was so angry about what had happened to her.”
“The car accident,” I said quietly. I knew that was the cause of her paralysis, but I never knew the details. Nobody ever talked about it.
“If that’s what you want to call it.” His mouth twisted wryly. “She was run off the road by a car driving in the wrong direction. Whether it was deliberate or a drunk driver…” He shook his head. “We’ll never know. However, I wanted retribution for what happened, but Mom would always quote that line and reiterate how one should not repay evil for evil.”
“Then whoever said it to me was using it out of context.”
He turned and studied me. “Maybe. Depending on how you interpret it. Some take it as vengeance, some as vindication. Mamá always said everything was in the Lord’s hands, not ours.”
His reference to his mom as “Mamá” tugged at me. Deep down I knew Roman would never hurt me. My heart was unwillingly softening. He sounded like a little boy who loved and needed his mother. I wished I knew more about that little boy. I wished I knew more about the relationship between him and his mom. We never really spoke about it. From what I remember about her, she was always nice and had a gentle smile whenever I saw her. However, most of the time she spent hours in her room. Sometimes, I’d see her outside sitting around the garden.
“Tell me about your mom.” I was curious. Anytime I saw Roman around her, he was very caring and seemed to spend the most time with her compared to the rest of his family. “She was always kind to me.”
“She was, still is.” He coughed and corrected the tense. “A beautiful, kind soul. She was a dreamer who made me believe anything was possible. She was the sunlight that overcame the darkness. She deserved so much more than how she ended up.” He stared off in the distance. “So much more than this life, but you’d never know it according to her because she never complained about her situation. Just took it and moved on as though it were a fact of life.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say. The words “I’m sorry” sounded trivial and Roman was never one to want sympathy. He was a proud man even when we were younger. Even through his acts of kindness with me, there was always a strong resolve in him and I’d never seen him drop that facade or show his emotions. “Does she still like to take coffee and watch the sunrise?”
“Yes.” His mouth ticked up as he watched me in awe. “She does. As far back as I can remember, Mamá loved to get up early and watch the sun come up. It was her favorite part of the day because she saw it as a blank canvas to make your mark in the world and do something profound. She always told me to follow my dreams. Create a new masterpiece.”
Like in football, I thought.
Like in football, he silently agreed.
Crickets chirped as we sat motionlessly without words. There were more questions I had, but I checked the time on my phone knowing I would only get a few hours of sleep if I pursued them. I finally spoke. “I need to go.” I started to stand, and he laid a hand on my arm.
“Come back with me.”
“No.” I looked at him like he was crazy. Just because he had a legit reason not to be my killer, didn’t mean I completely trusted him again.
“Why not?”
“It’s late and I have a lot I need to process.”
“Like what?”
He was acting like everything was hunky-dory, but still hadn’t mentioned or tried to explain my suspicions of his true motives for being in my mother’s room. Maybe I was the one being paranoid. “You said you were going to give me the truth. What were you really searching for in Mom’s room that night? Don’t tell me it was because you were only concerned she was an addict.”
He tilted his head with eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a liar?” His stance was challenging, throwing it right back at me. “Why did you lie to the police about us? Why did you say I took advantage of you?”