Italian Coffee House [BWWM]

- C h a p t e r 34 -

"Is that it?" Krysta chuckled bitterly, her words barely audible. Had the slightest wind picked up, I probably wouldn't have registered it at all. "Almost a decade without so much as a written explanation, and that's your opening line? Hello Darling? Do you even have a soul?"

My eyes near bulged out of my head at her remark. Of all the time I'd spent with Krysta, I never known her to utter something so crass. It hit me, like a brick wall, how fortunate I was to be on her good side. That she was fond of me and had excepted me with opened arms, rather than shut me out. Funny thing is if someone had said something like that to me, she would've given them a good scolding. One that would leave them with their tail between their legs. Her passion was raw, ran deep and could not be counterfeited. That's why the extent to inner convulsion radiated off her in waves. Memories she'd probably worked so hard to suppress, coming to the surface. Old wounds, excavated that only just healed.

Krysta might've looked at ease, but I knew otherwise. Only someone with an intimate knowledge of her tendencies, would know that just beneath the surface, a category five hurricane was raging. Just then Tionnè came to stand beside me, linking our arms together and scoping the scene. Almost immediately, I knew she would readily defend Krysta if it came to it. She had grown fond of my sister-in-law as much as I did. Krysta's mother managed a ?? smile, despite the sobriety of our particular fix. She opened her clutch, fetching a pack of cigarettes and her lighter. Taking one between her lips, she lit it with little urgency, as we eyed her every move. She drew on the cigarette before exhaling dramatically in a pale puff of poison.

"Wow, you are definitely your brother's sister." The woman chuckled, though I noticed that the smile did not quite reach her pale chromatic eyes, drawing on her cigarette second time. She scrutinized us all intently before she spoke again. "No need for claws kitty. I am your mother. It really is nice to see you again, darling."

"Save it," Krysta scoffed, refusing to succumb to her mother's evident disingenuousness. A blind man could see through her carefully crafted act.
Determination played across Krysta's features as the woman took another pull of her cigarette. "See that's where you're wrong. My mother left a long time ago. You may look like an old washed-up version of her but, that woman faded from existence the moment she walked out that door."

The woman noticeably flinched, almost choking on the smoke, despite her daughter's calm demeanor. Patently, her daughter's words effected her even more than she'd like us to believe. However, she quickly masked her features to resemble nonchalance though we could very well see that she wasn't as tough as her actions made her seem. What's more sobering was that Krysta's statement wasn't necessarily flawed.

In fact, I marveled at how well she and her brother were doing without the distinct noteworthy presence of their mother. They'd moved pass that moment all those years ago, turning it into something positive. Something profitable in either of their cases which motivated them to be ideal in their field of expertise. There was no need for maternal care of any kind from that woman. Even if their had been, she was a decade too late. They didn't need her anymore. On the other hand, I emotionally pined after my mother, hoping there was some way that to contact her. Hoping for some form of connection. Whereas, Niccolò and Krysta seemed almost untainted by the events of their shared past which lead them to this very moment.

The little slips here and there in their carefully constructed protective casings, were to be expected. They were only human but all the same, it never served to be a hindrance. Something I admire about my husband and his sister, despite setbacks or obstacles, they were steadfast in achieving their goals. It was quite compelling actually. Their stubbornness to accept the blows life had dealt them. To stay down or lick their wounds in resignation. If I wasn't aware of it before, the moment revealed the consequence of their collective strength.