Chương 10
“That is not a reason.”
She stared at the phone.
“What if it looks worse than I remember?”
“Worse for whom?”
“For her.”
Valerio's eyes narrowed.
Alessia sighed.
“I know how that sounds.”
“No, I don't think you do.”
“I don't want to destroy her life over a stupid joke.”
“A stupid joke broke your ankle.”
“She didn't know that would happen.”
“She knew you would fall.”
Alessia looked away.
“That is different.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She meant humiliation.”
The sentence came out flat.
Valerio went silent.
Alessia heard it after speaking.
Not injury.
Humiliation.
She had separated the two as if one were acceptable.
Valerio leaned forward with his forearms on his knees.
“Say that again.”
“No.”
“Alessia.”
“I said no.”
He watched her.
She hated being watched when she had nowhere to go.
The hospital bed made every silence feel like interrogation.
She looked toward the curtain.
“Veronica does things.”
“What things?”
“Small things.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I know.”
“Then give me one.”
Alessia's jaw tightened.
“She once changed the cards on a dinner seating chart so I ended up next to an ex-boyfriend I hadn't seen since he cheated on me.”
Valerio stared.
“At whose dinner?”
“Mom's birthday.”
“Why?”
“She thought it would be funny.”
“Was it?”
“No.”
“What else?”
“Don't.”
“Why not?”
“Because then it becomes a list.”
“Maybe there is a list.”
“That doesn't mean I want one.”
He sat back.
“All right.”
She expected relief.
Instead, something inside her felt unfinished.
“Last year she told everyone at Thanksgiving that I'd been rejected from a promotion.”
Valerio's eyes returned to her.
“I didn't even tell her.”
“How did she know?”
“Mom.”
“What did Veronica say?”
“That she thought everybody knew.”
Alessia laughed without humor.
“Everybody did after that.”
Valerio said nothing.
“She apologized later.”
“Did she?”
“She said she was sorry I was upset.”
Valerio's mouth tightened.
Alessia looked at him.
“What?”
“That is not an apology.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
The question irritated her.
“I am not stupid.”
“I didn't say you were.”
“You're looking at me like I've spent thirty years volunteering for mistreatment.”
“I am looking at you like you have spent thirty years making excuses for someone who counts on it.”
Alessia felt the words strike somewhere beneath anger.
She reached for the bed control and raised herself unnecessarily.
“You don't know everything.”
“No.”
“You weren't there.”
“No.”
“Then stop acting like you understand my family.”
Valerio stood.
“I understand what I have watched.”
“And what exactly have you watched?”
He was quiet.
Too quiet.
Alessia knew that expression.
It meant he had said less than he knew how to say.
“Go ahead.”
“No.”
“You started it.”
“I am not doing this while you're in a hospital bed.”
“Convenient.”
His jaw shifted.
“All right.”
He took one step closer.
“I have watched you apologize before anyone asks you to.”
Alessia stared at him.
“I have watched you check Veronica's face before you answer your mother.”
“That's ridiculous.”
“I have watched you laugh after she insults you so nobody else has to feel uncomfortable.”
Her throat tightened.
“You're imagining things.”
“I have watched you leave rooms after she enters them.”
“I leave rooms all the time.”
“I know.”
The last two words were quiet.
That made them worse.
Alessia looked away.
Valerio continued.
“I have watched your mother ask you to be the bigger person every time Veronica is the smaller one.”
“Stop.”
He stopped.
Immediately.
That somehow made Alessia angrier.
She turned toward the wall.
The silence stretched.
Valerio remained standing.
After a while he said, “I shouldn't have said all of that now.”
“No.”
“I am sorry.”
“Don't.”
“All right.”
Alessia pressed her lips together until they hurt.
She did not want to cry in front of him.
She especially did not want to cry because he'd said something accurate.
Her phone vibrated again.
She seized it gratefully.
This time the message was from her boss.
Saw something online.
Are you okay?
Alessia stared.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“My boss.”
She showed Valerio.
He read the message.
“At least he asked if you're okay.”
“He watches everything.”
“That's his job?”
“No, his job is making presentations about market alignment.”
Valerio sat again.
“Do you have to answer?”
“Yes.”
She typed with both thumbs.
I fractured my ankle but I'm okay.
At the hospital now.
She stopped.
Then added.
I may need to move Monday's presentation.
The reply came almost instantly.
Forget Monday.
Take care of yourself.
Alessia blinked.
“What?”
Valerio asked.
“He told me to forget Monday.”
“Perhaps he has a human soul.”
“I had not considered that.”
Another message appeared.
HR may contact you because the video is circulating publicly and people have identified the company from your LinkedIn.
Alessia's relief vanished.
There it was.
The first practical consequence beyond the hospital.
She locked the phone.
“Great.”
“What?”
“People found where I work.”
Valerio's expression changed.
“Already?”
“Apparently.”
“Do you have your profiles public?”
“My LinkedIn, yes.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“You should probably—”
“Stop organizing.”
He raised both hands.
“Stopping.”
Alessia took a slow breath.
Her mother called again.
This time she answered.
“Hello.”
Her mother's voice came fast and tight.
“Finally.”
Alessia closed her eyes.
Valerio stood to leave.
She shook her head.
He stayed.
“Where are you?”
“The hospital.”
“I know you're at the hospital.”
“Then why ask?”
“Don't start.”
Alessia almost laughed.
There was something bizarrely comforting about hearing the old rhythm intact.
Her mother's impatience had survived injury, ambulance, fracture, and viral video without alteration.
“Mom, what do you want?”
“I want you to tell me what is going on.”
“You saw the video.”
“I saw seven seconds.”
“That's what happened.”
“You know that's not what I mean.”
Alessia looked at Valerio.
He was staring at the floor.
Her mother continued.
“Veronica says you were both arguing before.”
“We weren't.”
“She says you made a comment about the seating.”
“I asked why I had been moved.”
“You were upset.”
May you like
“I was curious.”
“You always say you're curious when you're upset.”
