Chapter Twenty-One – Marcella

I feel like I've been hit by a runaway locomotive. I take that back. I feel like I've been shot by a few rounds from a machine gun, exploded in a land mine, and then the remaining shreds of my body hit by a train. Maybe that's not even graphic enough to explain the pain I'm in.

After learning of Nixon's betrayal, I came home to my trailer and went to my bedroom. I didn't even answer Lita's text to let her know I'm okay. I should be pissed that she spilled the beans about the call from the Mona Lisa, but I'm not. If she hadn't tattled to Nixon, I'd still be blind to the truth.

I'm still in my room, with the flowered bedspread that used to make me happy with its cheerful pink buds pulled up over my head so tightly I may never come out. I snuggle down deep and drift off when a pounding on my door snaps me back to my black cloud of reality.

"Marcella, you in there?"

Damn, it's Manny, and he's the last person I want to have to deal with right now. My dipshit brother's the cause of every curse in my life. There aren't words to express how angry I am with him, and even if there were, I'm too exhausted to say them.

The pounding continues until I sit up and throw my hands over my ears. "Go away," I mumble, too low to reach him through his obnoxious rapping.

"I know you're in there. Your car's outside. Unlock this door." At the end of his last statement, the thin door starts rattling on its hinges. If I don't get up and unlock it, the door will break, and I'll be hosed with splintered wood. With an exasperated sigh, I throw the covers off and pad to the door in my flannel pajamas. Even though it's over a hundred outside, the air conditioner is working right now. Besides, flannel equals a wardrobe hug.

I fling the door open to Manny's surprised look. "What do you want?"

He has the good grace to look sheepish, and his eyes fall to my bare feet. When he looks back up again, I temper my emotions. I don't have any tears left. Not for Nixon. And for sure not for Manny. He's on his own from now on.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I know that the Mona Lisa called you, but I left before you could get there to pick me up. I only owe them a couple hundred. I'll be able to pay them off when I get my next paycheck."

I laugh, but it sounds hollow. "You think this is about the gambling at the Mona Lisa? Guess again, Einstein."

He blinks, obviously having no idea about the shit show that Dante Giovanetti orchestrated in his office. The one that imploded my entire world until nothing remained but shards of my future raining down from the sky like confetti.

"What else could it be about? I know I've fallen down again, but I'll get back up. I promise. This time I really mean it."

I scoff and move to slam the door in his face, but a hand snakes out to stop me. "I'm done with your bullshit promises. Your addiction is leading you around by the nose, Manny. Or maybe it's by your wallet. Either way, I'm never dealing with it again. You promised Mom and Dad. You promised them that you'd take care of me, your little sister, if something ever happened to them."

I step forward, poking him in the chest. He doesn't even react or make a sound.

"I remember the day clearly," I go on, willing my voice not to break. "It's almost like they knew. Even though they were killed in an accident, they knew something would go wrong. And you promised, but the tables have turned because all that's happened since they've been gone is me taking care of you. It's disgusting. Grow the fuck up."

To my dismay, tears well up in his eyes and one escapes to fall down his cheek. "I know, Marshmallow. I've let you down. Hell, I've let myself down. I'll go to meetings. I'll—"

I put a hand up to stop him. His tears don't even have any effect on me. He's taken everything from me, and it's time he knows it.

"Save it, Manny. You sold me to Nixon Caldwell to pay your debts and save your sorry ass. I'll never forgive you. I've saved enough money to start college next term. What I don't have saved, I'll work to earn in an on-campus job. I'm leaving, Manny. The gravy train has left the station. I no longer give a shit, and I won't be helping you. Whether you live or die is up to you. As my only flesh and blood, I hope it's the former."

Without waiting for a response, I slam the door shut in his face, and he lets me this time. My heart's probably broken, but then again, it was never whole to start with. I toss some clothes on and grab my purse and keys. I have a task ahead of me that I dread with every fiber of my being.

Half an hour later, Manny doesn't even look at me as I slam the door with a resounding thump. I don't say anything, and neither does he. Someday, I hope he'll straighten up and fly right because I want the old Manny back. I want my brother, not some pathetic shell of a man who thinks playing poker is more important than family.

On the way to the Armónico, I blow the hot air on high and try not to self-combust. The air's been on the fritz in this vehicle since I bought it. It's probably just out of Freon, but that doesn't matter because I can't afford more. I'm tough, and I can take the heat, but I'm afraid I'm about to go from the frying pan into the fire.

The radio's playing some song about love being too painful to bear. I get it. In an act of defiance, I park in the self-parking and walk an extra mile in the blazing heat so I can avoid the front entrance. He's got eyes and ears all over this damn place, and he's probably got all his employees on high alert. Well, I'm not keen to listen to any more of his pathetic bullshit.

I clamp my ball cap tighter on my head and push it down over my eyes. I've got all my hair in a tight bun at my nape, and I'm wearing clothes of my mom's that look like they saw their best days in the seventies. Unless he has some kind of Jedi surveillance, he'll never know it's me until I get to where I'm going. By then, it will be too late. What I have to do won't take long.

After flashing my employee badge to the security guard so fast there's no way he can catch my name, he waves me through, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I've just passed the first obstacle. Now, to get to my destination, I need to use the executive elevator. I pray to God that Troy Cass isn't lurking around. He's like a ninja sidekick, seeing everything and missing nothing. I swear the guy has eyes in the back of his head.

I press the up button and stand still even though I want to bounce on my toes. My nerves are jangling, and my body's taut with unmet anticipation because I don't want another showdown. My argument with Manny is enough for one day. If it wasn't for Lita, I'd have no one to talk to. Except maybe one more person.

As the elevator doors slide open, I catch sight of him. He's bent over some Legos trying to make a building. His occupational therapist is encouraging him to work until the pieces click together and lock. I wish I could do that with the fragments of my heart. If only healing and moving forward was that easy.

But it's just not. It's not easy at all.

It's so fucking hard, it's crushed me, and I need to learn how to harden my heart until hope never sneaks in again.

When he spots me, a smile spreads across his face, and I tear up. I guess there are more tears left in my eyes. I'm going to miss him so much I don't even want to think about it. Where I was starting to fall in love with Nixon, I was already head over hills for his little brother. I think I've loved Lincoln since the first time he threw his arms around my neck and squeezed.

"Cella!" he shouts, waving. I can barely hear him through the glass. "Come see what I built."

"Hey, Linc," I say, sinking down to my knees on the floor beside him. "That's pretty cool."

Linc's therapist stands and excuses himself, saying he needs a restroom break anyway. Maybe Jay sees the tragic look I know I'm carrying around like facial luggage. I hate myself for what I'm about to do. But I'd hate myself even more if I didn't.

"You're not usually here in the afternoon, Cella. Did you miss me?"

I tousle his hair, delighting in its silky feel. I try to imprint the feeling on my memory since I know I'll never see him again. "I did."

"Wow! That's awesome! Maybe you should miss me every day. Jay's too hard on me. You're gentle."

"Jay has to be hard on you, runt," I say, using my nickname for him since day one. "You want to be the best version of Lincoln you can be, don't you? No pain, no gain."

"I guess," he says, popping another two blocks together with his small hands and making his infrastructure taller and more solid. I'm not going to tell him that adult life is more like a tumbling house of cards.

"Hey, runt," I say, drawing back his attention. "I came by for a reason today. I have something I need to tell you, and you'll need to be very, very brave. But I have faith in you because I know you can do it. I've seen you do so many things, I'm certain you can do anything you set your mind to."

He frowns, and my heart cracks with a tiny fissure of regret that will soon turn into a canyon. "I don't want to be brave!" Without warning, he hurtles himself into my arms and does that thing I can't resist. He's like fifty pounds of human Saran wrap, all bundled up into a little love bomb. I stroke his head and just stay that way, listening to him breathe.

In. Out.

In. Out.

"I have to leave Las Vegas," I whisper close to his ear. "I came to say goodbye."

He doesn't respond, just holds me tighter. I can feel his body start to shake, and my shoulder grows wet with moisture. That's all I need for my own tear faucet to turn on full blast. But I don't move to wipe them away because that would mean letting go of this little boy that I love so much. And I never, ever want to let go.

"No, Cella," he cries, shudders racking his little body. "I don't want you to go. You're my bestest friend in the whole wide world? Why would you leave me? Why?"

I comfort Linc as best I can, stroking and hugging until he calms down a little bit. "I need to go to college so I can be the best version of myself. Once I'm done, I'll be a licensed occupational therapist just like Jay. Wouldn't you like that? I promise that I'll come visit you every time I come home for a visit."

Except I may never, ever come back home. This doesn't feel like home anymore. It feels like a prison of pain.

He swipes at his face. "Really?"

"Really," I say, gently moving him away from me. I have to go before Nixon gets here. I'm sure Troy's blown the whistle on me by now. "And I'll give Jay my contact information as soon as I'm set up at college. We can text and FaceTime and anything else you want. You'll never get rid of me, runt. I'm yours forever."

He screws up his face, trying so very hard to be brave. "Okay, Cella. That sounds fun but not as fun as having you playing with me every day." Then he turns deadly serious, and something profound is on the way, I just know it. "You're a big person, and big people have to do things they don't want to do? Isn't that right."

Out of the mouths of babes.

I kiss his hair. "You got it, runt. You've totally got it."