Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“The internet ruined me. I got into dark academia and now it’s like my aesthetic.”
“Dark academia?”
“Sure, like old books, gothic architecture, that sort of stuff. Living with a room with a turret and a reading nook fits right into my vision, as it happens.”
“How do I fit into that vision?”
“Still working on that.”
He grumbles, but he kisses me and heads off to shower.
I spend the morning putting on the finishing touches. Mark stole so much of my stuff when he ran off to join his weird snake cult, and I really missed my crystal collection. Now that I have basically endless money thinks to the credit card Renzo gave me a couple days ago, I can replenish my rock supply.
No, not rocks. Crystals. Can’t let him win.
Renzo heads out to get some work done and leaves me alone at the house. Since it’s nice out, I grab an iced tea from the kitchen and curl up on the back porch with a book. The yard’s gorgeous, well-maintained and landscaped. There’s a bed of local plants and butterflies flit through it. I watch them land and float and land again, their lovely wings flashing in the afternoon light. I’m so engrossed that I don’t even notice when a person sits down nearby.
“Pretty, aren’t they? I planted that myself. The Buddleia davidii, or the butterfly bush.”
I look over, surprised. Renzo’s mother is sitting in a chair on the other side of the porch, not looking at me. Watching the wind blow through the flowers.
“It’s beautiful. My mom planted one just like it back home. I honestly forgot all about it until right now.”
“They’re easy to care for. Very hardy shrubs.” She looks over with a smile. Her eyes are lucid, and she looks relaxed. “You must be Maddie. Renzo told me about you. I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself earlier.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Rossi.”
“Call me Stella, dear.” Her eyes move back to the butterflies.
“Okay, Stella.” I smile to myself and follow her gaze. “Do you come out here often?”
“Oh, all the time, all the time. When I first planted that bush, I never thought I’d get so many butterflies. But look at them all.”
“It really is amazing.”
“It helps that it’s the right time of year.” She frowns slightly, head tilted, but quickly smiles again. “Are you a gardener?”
“Not at all. I can kill plastic plants. It’s a gift.”
Stella laughs lightly. “That really is incredible.” She glances over. “Are you here visiting someone?”
“Renzo.”
“That’s nice, dear.” She clears her throat. “I remember when I first planted that bush, I never thought I’d get so many butterflies.”
“It really is amazing.” I shift slightly in my chair. “How long has it been, Stella? Since you put it in.”
“A while,” she says and doesn’t elaborate. I don’t push her. She seems relatively clear and lucid—despite repeating that bit about planting the bush. I wish Renzo were here. I bet he’d like this. “You should have seen the way my boys used to play back here,” she says suddenly, leaning forward. “They were little rascals.”
“What did they do?”
“Fought each other. Yelling, shouting, kicking balls, throwing things. It was always someone getting hurt, someone saying something they shouldn’t have. Poor little Carlo, my youngest, Renzo and Saul had no mercy for him. But they loved each other.”
“I’m sure they did.”
“Good boys. Very good boys. Do you have siblings?”
I shake my head, looking down at my hands. “No. Not anymore.”
“Not anymore?”
“I had a sister.”
“Oh? What happened to her? I’m sorry, that was a rude question.”
“It’s okay.” I don’t look up. I hate talking about this, but for some reason, I feel safe with Stella. “Her name was Ruby. She was two years younger than me and we were inseparable. We went everywhere together. But there was an accident and she died when I was twelve.”
“That’s very hard. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s been a long time.” I blink back tears. I don’t know why I’m reacting this way. I haven’t cried over Ruby since I moved out of my parents’ house. “She would’ve loved your butterflies.”
“Really? Was she the outdoors type?”
“Absolutely. We had these woods behind the house that backed up against the quarry and we’d go exploring all the time. Ruby loved it.”
“Sounds like you two had a lovely time together.”
“We did.” I clear my throat. “I miss her.”
“I’m sure you do, dear. I’m so sorry.” Stella’s looking at me with a comforting kind of pity, the sort of look only a woman that knows loss can share. It feels strange, and I wonder how much of this she’ll remember in a day. I’m tempted to tell her not to say anything to Renzo, but I get the feeling she won’t.
“Stella, hon, there you are.” A woman steps out the back door. She’s in her mid-forties, hair pulled up in a bun, wearing a nurse’s uniform. “We should get you back inside.”