By her twentieth birthday, there are a few things Valarie Ricci knows for certain.
She knows that her waitressing job barely covers the costs of living out of a beat up old van. She knows she's stuck in the dead end hometown her high school friends...
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On the Monday morning following Theo's party, Valarie had been watching the Shopping Channel for a full forty five minutes before her 6:50 AM alarm went off. Her phone made a drill-like noise as it vibrated against the coffee table in front of her, demanding attention. The assault on her ears was enough to shatter the distracted daze she'd fallen into, slack-jawed and unconsciously nodding along with the woman hawking Hoover vacuums Valarie could never afford—not even with three easy payments. She hadn't heard a single word the saleswoman had said in at least twenty minutes.
She pressed her face into the couch cushion beneath her, groaned, and then kicked off the blanket she was cocooned in before sliding down to the living room floor. A faux-Persian rug scratched against her bare legs. The alarm continued to scream at her while she allowed herself another few moments to stare into space. It filled the silence, at least. The quiet emptiness of her house always echoed in her ears as an anxious ringing, like the walls were trying to say something to her.
She groaned once more with feeling before finally turning off the alarm and pulling herself to her feet. Blankets and pillows were haphazardly thrown everywhere on the couch, which was starting to look more and more like it was moulding itself to the shape of Valarie's body. After rolling out the aches in her neck and shoulders, she made her way to the small bedroom adjacent to the living room.
She hesitated outside the door, gripping the handle and taking a deep breath. The house was too quiet, and she'd actually been able to sleep through the night.
Please don't be dead, please don't be dead, please don't be dead...
She opened the door and flipped on the light switch. Nonno was huddled on one side of the bed, facing the window and still swaddled in the blankets she had tucked him in with last night.
"C'mon, kid," Valarie said, injecting some cheer into her voice as she walked over to his side of the bed. "Time to go to school."
He finally grumbled–thank fuck–and rolled over to face her. Without his glasses on, he kinda looked like a raisin, but, like a really cute raisin. She watched him struggle to place her. His brown eyes were milky in that old person way, surrounded by overgrown eyebrows and deep bags. Grey stubble was starting to sprout from his chin and jaw, and she made a mental note that he was going to need a shave sometime this week. "Che cosa?" He blinked up at Valarie. "Maria?"
Her Mom's name. "No," she said, speaking louder than was natural for her. "I'm Valarie. I'm your granddaughter."
"Huh?" There was no trace of recognition in his face.
"It's time to get up!" She tried to sound enthusiastic. He usually responded better to tone, even if he didn't really understand what was being said. "We've got to get you to school!" School was the adult daycare he attended three times a week.
"School?" He started to move, slowly throwing the blankets off of himself. To her relief, all of the sheets seemed dry. Physically, Nonno was in pretty good shape–no trouble walking, no bad arthritis or heart problems. He was still really good at opening jars when she needed him to.
