Not a Mistake

The days have passed without me being able to realize it and, after the kiss with Seth, I haven't heard from him again. While Charlie shared dozens of stupid videos and tried to chat with me as much as possible, his best friend disappeared into thin air. Not a message or a call, much less an ambush outside the home or anywhere else.

I waited, racking my thoughts on thousands of fantasies that I shouldn't have fed, but the hours of silence had turned into days and, in the end, with the bitter taste in my mouth I succumbed to the obviousness of the facts: Morgenstern repented.

Yes, almost certainly, once he crossed the threshold of his apartment, he must have wondered what the hell had jumped to his mind. Kissing friend's little sisters is certainly not something someone do every day, especially if there's an engaging with another person, or a quarrel with the bestie and a fight the aforementioned youngster with a well placed punch at center of the cheekbone.

The sense of guilt must have betrayed his will and, in hindsight, he must have realized that he had only made things worse.

There seems to be no other explanation.

So, so as not to let myself sink into a bed of depression for the umpteenth dream gone up in smoke, I convinced Elizabeth to accompany me on a walk along the streets of the City, or any other neighborhood that could keep my mind occupied.

She did not ask questions, slipped on her shoes, and made our father landing money for a high-calorie snack and some object of dubious utility.

I suppose the shadow of the hematoma that still fills my face is a weapon against her good heart - because although I tell her bad things every day, my sister is, like all Ravens, a person with a kind soul.

Pointing the bruise at her, at times yellow and at others still purple, she refuses me nothing, not even spending time together - and all this, strangely, raises my spirits at least a little.

There would be Charles Benton with whom to spend this dead time, with whom to smile and pretend that nothing of what happened really happened, but he would inevitably mention Seth and I would end up again in the limbo of resignation in which I would rather not fall.

However, Liz and I leave the house armed with indecision and disorientation - the first because of the still unknown destination, the second because of the strangeness that is this fraternal exit -, but in the end we manage to come to terms with everything, finding even a tempting program on how to spend these hours of light.

Before anything, after a few stops on the subway, coffee becomes a must and, while we play around with the cardboard cup in hand, a small mustard shop draws our attention.

In the plans there was a quick turn among the vintage finds of the St. Cyr, in Camden, but the scent of printed paper draws us to it like a mermaid - unfortunately for the Raven spouses' wallet, all three children inherited a a certain love for literature, too bad that genres range and bookcases fill up more and more.

The feet move on their own, leading us beyond the heavy door and in the midst of a multitude of colored covers and editions of different vintages; although it is a blasphemy, we could almost compare ourselves to two alcoholics in a wine shop, given the variety that this small corner of the world grants us.

Liz launches herself without hesitation into the section dedicated to the thrillers, widening her eyes so much that I fear they could fall out of their sockets, while I wait patiently to identify the area dedicated to biographies. However, between one look and the another, I can't help but notice how the youngest salesman, a hairless-looking little fellow with still some acne residue, began to stare with admiration at the movements of my sister who, like Jace, has acquired both beauty and charm.

For a few moments I try to peek at the approach that the salesman wants to use towards the girl who shares most of my DNA, but noting his almost total ineptitude about it, I decide to intervene.

Passing by my sister, completely unaware of what is happening around her, I pinch her side and, mischievously squeezing an eye: «Someone has impressed ...» I whisper then, returning to walk nonchalantly for the library, faking more and more indifference to the issue.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Liz's cheeks turn red, while with her gaze she tries to understand who I am referring to. She focuses on everyone, from the old man who trudges to fix a wrongly taken tome, to the little dog which, from the door, tries to attract the attention of his master, but only after long minutes, finally, she realizes the presence of the clerk.

If mother and father have graced her with beauty, one cannot say the same with acumen - something which, I hope, they have managed to pass on to me.

Disappointed by the continuous gaps in my family, I decide to leave the wonderful world of cellulose and ink to immerse myself in the smoky vice of tobacco.

Already armed with a lighter and red Chesterfield, I lean on the first corner of the masonry that I find, challenging the breeze and trying to light the umpteenth cigarette of this day only halfway. I quarrel over and over again with the wind, trying to create a shield with the only free hand I have available, but the air passes inexorably from cracks that I can't cover, filling the list of imprecations that starts at take shape in the mind.

I'm about to lose all the stirrups and start puffing when, suddenly, two other hands cupped around mine, finally putting a point to the battle between the flame and the breeze.

Tobacco starts to graze and in a huge breath I fill my lungs with nicotine, a pure poison for the bronchi, but a panacea for the inability to manage nervousness.

I close my eyelids, letting myself become intoxicated by the acrid taste of the cigarette and then, after a few moments, I turn to the one who has rushed to my rescue.

«Than-» when the figure in front of me takes shape, the words find themselves dying in my throat. A knot binds them tightly to the vocal cords and suddenly I don't know what to say.

London is big, as everyone knows; its neighborhoods have daily dealings with tens of hundreds of people - but this does not mean that if I push myself to Camden Town, the possibility of meeting unwanted people becomes tangible.

Seth's cruel look makes me fall on a boulder called "guilt", which becomes even heavier when I realize what he's looking for on my face. What, until a few days ago, was a hematoma worthy of the worst fan of bar fights, is now nothing but a yellowish patch that the foundation has hard time to cover.

"I had to call him", I find myself thinking. I had assured him that I would not disappear after what had happened, but instead I've looked his phone number for days, without ever having the courage to type any message or press a green icon. I lived in doubts and in paranoia for hours, forgetting what was the best attitude to maintain in such situations.

Challenging the general embarrassment - which, perhaps, is only mine - his thumb rests on my cheekbone, gently caressing the gift given to me by the knuckles just below that finger.

The contact with Morgenstern's fingertip gives me a shiver that slides down my back from the base of the neck and, for a moment, I'm afraid of letting a shudder escape me.

Willing or not, this guy will always have a terrible effect on my hormones, perhaps due to the fact that his parents, putting him into the world, should not have noticed that they had created a masterpiece. If it were not for the possible complaint of stalking I would encounter, I would fill up whole rolls of film with his images, lapping at the perfect way in which light always manages to make him appear magnificent to my eyes.

«I thank your hard skin instead. Finally that patch has decided to leave» he says with an increasingly critical expression, analyzing the damage as a doctor does in front of a patient.

And the more I stay still, almost forced to stare at him, the more my gaze can't stop falling on his lips. Two hard lines, of an uneven pallor that I cannot name in any way other than "Rose perfection". A unique color that, in my poor woman's mind that has never become aware of love and the relationships that revolve around it, is enchanting. Yes, because apart from a few young people frequented just to eradicate the hypothesis that I could be asexual from the mind of my acquaintances, there was nothing but this platonic feeling for Seth - peppered every so often with some red-light fantasy.

Trying to pick up that little bit of demeanor, I almost smile: «After all these days I was starting to get fond. It was a shade of purple that perfectly matched my dark circles!»

As always, my humor struggles to break through the hearts of the interlocutors.

Seth's expression becomes more severe than it already was and, in spite of what I could have imagined, he presses his thumb on what remains on my face, making me wince.

I let go a childish sound of pain out of my teeth and he immediately starts reproaching me.

«Are you stupid perhaps? This sign should disappear as quickly as possible, clear?»He pauses, reducing the pressure on the cheekbone and giving me a way to calm the pain.

«I can't stand his sight» he whispers then, frowning.

For a single moment it seems to me to go back to the day of Jace's departure, when the awareness of what he had done had become unbearable for him, so lacerating that it could be perceived even by external eyes.

Thigh of what weight must have that memory above him, I decide to put an extra smile on my face: «You've already apologized to me countless times and in very unexpected ways, there's no need for me to repeat it again».

«You say? Because despite my apologies and your promises you are gone. If I managed to tackle you here it was just because you forgot to turn off the gps again!»

The throat dries up, just like the guts squeeze me. If until the last I had subconsciously hoped that he had not notice my absence so much, I was very wrong.

Putting my back to the wall I divert attention from his face, admitting my faults: «Do you allow me that, after the way you behaved, I was confused? Not to emphasize this, but I don't think it's so normal to kiss, after a fight, a friends». I feel my cheeks warm up and my heart speed up, knowing perfectly well what risks I could take. A part of me does not want to be told that it was only an act of mercy towards the injured puppy as I was in his eyes.

Seth sighs, pulling his hand away from me. He looks around disoriented and, inevitably, I find myself anticipating the speech that is about to come out of his lips.

«Surely, after a fight with your brother or Benton, I wouldn't dream of sticking my tongue in their mouth» he begins, starting to rummage in his coat's pocket for his beloved Lucky Strike: «but with you it happened and... sincerely? I don't think I regret it, Jay» the firmness with which he utters those last words leaves me speechless. Am I dreaming? Or is it just another joke I will have to face?

Suddenly I find myself staggering amidst all the certainties that become veritable sand castles between thoughts. The waves of reality crash on them causing them to collapse, but there is no trick I can use to be able to save them.

«I'm the sister of your best friend, you realize it, do you?» As much as his confession is flattering and deceiving me, there is a detail that neither of us can ignore: Jace.

My brother would not be happy at all to know about that kiss or this statement - for him, now, Seth is nothing but the enemy.

Morgenstern bites his lips: «Yes, Jay, I know very well. This is what worries me the most, yet, I cannot ignore the fact that I would like to wake up again with you under my sheets».

A bomb seems to be bursting in my chest, as my head turns - what if it's a candid camera?

I'm about to answer, to partially confess to him what I've kept secret for years, but before I can say anything, an annoying little voice fills my head: "Seth has a girlfriend, Sharon, a girl with nothing to envy of the photomodels that dominate glossy covers of the best fashion magazines.

Seth is not loyal to her, let alone a person like me, who is full of physical defects and cannot even boast such an affable character".

Jace would never forgive him. If he knew that in such a delicate moment he took advantage of his little sister he would definitely label him as a traitor.

So what to do? Confess or keep quiet? If this was my only chance to make a dream come true after so long, to find out what it means to be with my loved one, would I be willing to lose it for these reasons?

But regardless of the response I would have given, Liz's voice causes me to twitch from the conversation and, to avoid further mess, Morgenstern sneaks away before ending the conversation, leaving the it suspended in the space that separates us and becomes more and more great.

Do I really want to feed my desire of him to the point of dealing with all these consequences?