◇ KEL ◇ 

◇  New York  ◇ 

Power through. 

You escaped death. 

You're invincible.

Those words became the pretentious mental conditioning I fed my traumatized brain for weeks on end, until I was able to shut off the dreadful memories and my life felt somewhat back to normal.  I had to. 

Otherwise I might've ended up in a psychiatric ward.  Alone.  Ill.  Ensnared and paralyzed by evil thoughts and horrifying images of that night.  I  had to fight it all off and push through with my life.  I'd kept telling myself that I was fine, that I was past it...until it eventually became the reality in my mind.

The pretense became loathsome and felt ridiculous at times, but...it was necessary.  I couldn't let my family know what happened back in San Pietro.  They'd go berserk and would unquestionably push me to file charges against the perpetrator—which would then entangle Enzo into the whole mess.  He would be dragged into the investigation and might even be required to testify in court against his brother.

I didn't want any of that to happen.  At this point, I certainly didn't need another major hiccup now that I was almost done with med school.  My priorities were my studies and career goals and everything else was secondary.  White noise.  I just wanted to forget all of that night on the island, push that night to the back of my mind and bury it somewhere deep.  I had to move on with my life. 

Miles understood my reasons—to my relief.  The last time we had a discussion about it, he wanted me to talk to one of his family's lawyers to represent me in court and deal with my case against the Tomassini boss.  But I'd begged Miles to just let it all go.  I just didn't have the time or courage, or even the willpower to deal with the whole thing.

"Fine. Go back to school. Get your degree. We'll deal with it later," was his half-meant compromise before I was to board a flight for New York.

I'd left him at the airport with a heavy heart and some hopeful thoughts, but he kept telling me it was what I should do.  He said I should go back home and focus on myself, and get back into my routine if I thought it would be in my best interest.  "Thanks. Call me soon," I replied with tears in my eyes while I gave him a tight hug.  Then I left Italy again.  That was weeks ago.

I still missed Miles most days, although I understood that he had important responsibilities to fulfill.  As the only child and basically the rightful heir to his family's thriving businesses, he just had to do it.  Not once did I think he would be working for his family back then, back when I was living with him in his countryside house in Brescia, Italy.  But as it turns out...he was actually capable of handling a demanding, time-consuming corporate job.  In charge of client relations, at that.  

It was just not what I imagined him doing for a living.  Like me, Miles was introverted and preferred to work by himself.  But it seemed he was serious about his new job and newfound career now working for the Falcos.  He even told me he no longer had the time or motivation to paint new artworks, only because he was too busy with his corporate duties day in and day out.  

It made me worry about his health even more.  His mental and physical health, for that matter.  "Just text or give me a call if you need something," I had told him several times when I got back here in New York. 

He wasn't the type of friend to ask for help but I knew he needed it.  His pride and preference for solitude had already left a dent in our friendship before, so I knew I had to make him promise that he would be more communicative now and wouldn't leave me in the dark. 

I made him promise to call me whenever he needed to talk to someone.  I'd like to think I was a good friend, and I only wanted him to do whatever it was that he wanted to do in his life, for his sake and for his health, especially.  "Just want you to be happy, and healthy," I told him once or twice. 

He said he wanted the same for me, but he didn't quite understand that I had different issues.  That, for me, it wasn't going to be easy at all.  I was trying hard, though...because I had to.  The world didn't revolve around me and my problems—I should just keep going and focusing on the positives.  Keep striving towards my goals. 

I had to do it for myself, and for my family.  No buts and excuses.  I just had to.

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"Sweetie? You home now?"

I switched the call to speaker mode after I stared at my mother's angelic features on my phone screen.  I missed her company, even though it had only been a week since I last spent time with her.  Schoolwork was keeping me too busy again to have time for her and everything else.  "Yes, Mom. You just got home? How you feelin'?"

"Yeah." Mommy Tilda breathed a lengthy sigh on the other end. "My migraine's back, but, I'll live. How was your test?"

"Fine," I replied, although in reality, I wasn't sure whether I passed the physical examination we had to complete this afternoon.  We had to comply before we could proceed with our in-house trainings this year.  "No issues or anything."

"Good. Good," my mom replied in a muted tone. "I'll drop by tomorrow after your last class. We can go shopping if you want."

Shopping? Why? I made a face at her suggestion, knowing we still had stacks of hospital bills and credit card loans to pay off before the year ended.  But I also knew my mother treated shopping like a therapy session.  Retail therapy almost always got rid of her migraines, in fact.  "Mm-kay," I murmured while I rested on my bed with my phone lying beside my face.  "How's Jill?"

"She's with David now. They're planning to take Meesha to London next month. Meet her grandparents there."

"Oh. Okay." I let out a sigh, feeling the fatigue kicking in. I glanced at the time on my phone's digital clock. It was almost dinnertime. But I was too tired and lazy to fix myself a meal.

Ugh. Sometimes I really wished my mom would have the time to visit me every day just so I'd have someone cook me good, healthy meals to keep me sane.  Too bad she still had to work her ass off just to pay the bills.  It made me feel guilty most of the time.  Because she wasn't getting any younger and here  I was, still not a productive member of society.  

In fact, I was only adding to her headaches because of my ballooning tuition fees.  I should try my hardest to graduate soon.  Get a steady job at a hospital.  Help my mom pay off our loans.  Maybe then I would no longer feel this insignificant and anxious about our future. 

"Sweetie, I gotta make some calls. Eat something and get lots of sleep. Okay?" 

"Okay, Mommy. See you. Goodnight."

"Mykaela, don't skip dinner again. Eat first. Then get some rest. Okay?"

"Mm-hmm," was my half-meant reply before I hung up.  My eyelids felt heavier now as I let out a yawn, letting the grogginess take over my thoughts.  Later.  Food could wait.  Right now, sleep was more important than anything else.

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