Alexis

Torna al Rosso

He placed his hands on my back and held me against him. I breathed out as he ran one of his hands up my back. He sighed.

"You're thin," he said, out of the blue.

I pulled my cheek off of his skin to look at him. "What?"

"You're thin," he repeated. "Thinner than before."

"Are you saying I was fat before I lost–"

"No," Vincent cut me off. "No. You've always been fit. I'm saying you lost weight, a lot. You're thin. Do you wanna get something to eat?" he asked.

I wanted to go back to sleep, but that comment (although I didn't feel this was his intention) made me self-conscious. I felt that if I were to go to bed, I dream about being alone, again, in the operating room. I bet they all gossiped about how nasty I was after. Being alone– that was so terrifying and heartbreaking. No one would understand. I never had a problem with being alone. That was different though.

I don't want to sleep anymore.

"No," I mumbled. "Dr. Williams already gave me something. Is Rose downstairs?" I asked. He nodded and brought his hands to my shoulder, gently massaging them. I stepped out of his grip and glanced away. "I'm going to go talk to her. You can sleep in my bed if you're tired," I allowed.

"Okay. . . ." Vincent said. "I think she's asleep. It's late." I nodded and quietly left my room in my bedtime clothes. I walked down to the room that she usually stayed in. I knocked three times and patiently waited on the outside of the door. It was quiet for a moment. I knocked again. When she didn't answer, I ventured downstairs and sure enough I found Rose on the sofa with a glass of wine in her hand. The television was on but there was no sound coming from it. Her distant eyes snapped up to mine when she heard the soft pads of my feet across the cold wooden floors. She smiled at me. Her eyes didn't meet the stretch of her lips.

"Hi, Lexi," she welcomed and patted the seat next to her. I took the spot, folding my legs. She was drinking white wine. She held out her glass. "Do you want any? I'll go make you a glass."

I shook my head. "I'm okay." I'll never drink again. I'll take it to my grave.

She nodded and brought the glass down to her lap. "That's right– I'm sorry– I forgot you can't drink. I'm so sorry," she rushed out and refused to make eye contact with me.

I tried my best to shake it off and have that comment not effect me but I think my irritation slipped a bit on my tone."I have a question," I stated. "If you can't have kids then how come I called Paul my cousin?" I asked.

Rose sat up a bit straighter and took another sip of wine. "It's basically why you called Andy and Tony– all of them, your uncles."

"So there's not actual relation?" I questioned.

"Well, kinda; before Fred was born, way before– well, no, I won't start there. . . . So, a little while before I was born, Nonno went back to Italy and had an illegitimate child. James, Mike's and my half-brother, lived with his mother in Italy while we lived with dad and mom– Nonno and Nonna– and I guess he had a lot of issues. I don't know. His mother never really let him visit. And when she got a new boyfriend, he wasn't nice to James.

"James went through a lot and it really hit him hard. Mike and I tried to help him with everything but he never wanted our help. About eight years before Fred was born, James has a kid with some woman named Isabella and they had Paul. But Isabella wasn't a very stable woman, which is probably why her and James got along. She didn't want Paul but James still tried to take care of him. When Paul was two, Isabella overdosed and then three months later, James killed himself."