Alexis

La Creazione di la Lista

The Creation of the List

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"Son of a man, set thy face against the Ammonites, and prophesy against them."

Ezekiel (25:2)

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"What?" I asked, my voice quiet. "Who? Was it Roberto?"

BRO– imagine. I couldn't. What if it was? Would Vincent even be around her? Not because of me but because of my dad. Did my dad's friendship with Vincent mean something? If it was Roberto, would Vincent keep Donna around when he was friends with my dad?

Were my thoughts making sense? I felt like my mind was working too quickly.

"I'm not talking about it anymore. Talk to Vincent, tell him about what you think you're going to do. Talk to me then. He's not going to like what you say," Dante reminded me as he stood up.

"No, please," I begged. "I won't say anything to him!" I tried to persuade him. I definitely wanted to talk to Vincent about it though but it'd be majorly insensitive if I did. If someone asked me who Conor cheated on me with, I'd sock them in their face.

He patted my shoulder. "He'll be back here tonight to see you and sleep. I'd wait until the morning to tell him of your thoughts."

"He's sleeping with me?" I asked. When did this become official? He never asked if he could sleep in my bed. What was he going to do? Just crawl in my bed when I'm asleep and scare me half to death?

Dante shrugged as he walked to the door. "Not carnally. He'll probably sleep on the sofa or something depending on the time and how you feel. I got to go. Take care of yourself– in fact. . . ." Dante walked back over to me, rather, to my nightstand. He picked up my gun and put it in the waistband of his pants. "I'll give this to you after I talk to Vincent."

"But–"

"Focus on yourself," Dante corrected, cutting me off. "If you need me to call a therapist, let me know," he added.

"That's my gun, Dante," I called. I wanted it back.

"You talk to him, he talks to me, you'll get this back," Dante explained and made his way to my door.

"Wait, why?" I called from my position on my bed. "My dad got me that. . . ." I didn't want anyone to take something that my dad got me. No one. I was angry at him for taking it. How dare he? After our bonding moment? Seriously?

"You hurt yourself," Dante recalled. "I don't feel comfortable with you being around a gun. I'll talk to you later. Take care of yourself, Alexis."

I frowned as he closed the door. I didn't like that he mentioned hurting myself. I felt like that topic needed to be blacklisted, or redlisted, as if they were about communism during the Cold War. No one should talk about my moments. Ever. But I knew I needed to face my mistakes. Scooting off the bed, I grabbed my notebook and found a pen. I curled up on my sofa to make a list of things that I had to do.

Talk to Vincent

Hmm. . . .

What else do I add? I had so many ideas, how come they left when I needed them the most? Maybe I needed to rest? My bad dreams would fuel me! That's how I had my epiphany!

I stood up, hid my book, and crawled into bed. I quickly fell asleep under my warm covers. I woke up when my mind decided that it was time. Of course, my dreams weren't pretty. In fact, they were just as sad as beforehand.

Rolling over in bed, I started to think about my dad. I couldn't stop. I didn't know what to do to make it stop. His memory made me feel depressed. I wanted him around me. I wanted to tell him I was sorry for being the worst daughter alive. He deserved to hear an apology and he deserved to have his murder avenged.