◆ The Faithless ◆
◇ KEL ◇
Killed? What did he mean? That he killed his faith in God?
Or he actually killed someone? Nah. Not possible. This guy wasn't a killer by any means. I shifted on the chair to study his expression, narrowing my gaze at his still profile, waiting for him to say more.
No. No way he meant it literally. Who on Earth would he even kill? Enzo was not the violent type. A passive-aggressive pacifist, more likely.
When I first met him, I thought he looked like an athlete. Or a hard-nosed wealthy businessman who liked MMA and punching things in his spare time. His overall appearance looked that intimidating at first hello. The thick beard, his tailored suit, the bodyguard, and the wiser-than-his-years look in Enzo's eyes only added to his commanding presence.
As I got to know him better months after that incident in Umbria, I gained a deeper understanding of the type of person he was. Once, I saw him brake for a stray dog on the side of the road just to feed the poor thing. Then we lured and put the injured dog in his shiny, leather-covered backseat before he drove the dog to the nearest adoption shelter.
That's the type of person he was. He once said we were much alike in that regard. Well, I liked thinking he saw me as a good person. A real and trustworthy friend. Someone he could trust with his deepest secrets and his personal struggles.
Lately, though, he seemed particularly cagey with his words, even when we were alone. "It's my fault." Enzo sighed loudly, breaking off my musings with his muted, raspy voice.
"What d'you mean?" I muttered as I leaned closer to him, still mentally putting the pieces together and struggling to get a clear picture.
He wasn't crying, but his somber tone and blank gaze at the altar said enough. "Pappa's dead."
What? "What happened?"
"I didn't sign the consent form."
I held my breath, my heart thumping a bit louder in my chest.
So, his father just died, and he blamed himself for it? Oh dear. That's why he seemed so sad and lonely.
"Why?" I asked.
Enzo didn't respond and simply blinked at the dim altar before us. He sat so still beside me I could see and hear his every intake of breath.
"You mean, you opted for the DNR?"
In reply, he only gave me a quick, faint nod. He still wouldn't look at me, as if he felt ashamed or something.
"Sorry. I didn't know." I carefully put my hand on his shoulder. The nosey friend in me wanted to hug him tight and console him while asking for the specifics. But obviously he wasn't in the mood or proper condition.
"Don't apologize."
"Hey. It's not your fault."
He drew in a deep breath before speaking again, his hands just resting on his lap. "Grazie."
[Thanks.]
"Please. Stop blaming yourself." I sighed and leaned in to comb some strands of his wavy hair away from his cheek. "You just did what you thought was best for him."
His father was already bed-ridden before I left Italy to go back to med school. Luciano Tomassini had been suffering from MS for years now. Maybe it was the don's time to go. Sadly, Enzo thought he was to blame for what happened. Just because of some paperwork he didn't sign.
Why didn't his older brother make the decision himself? Maybe the selfish jerk wasn't around during the emergency, like Miles said. So Enzo was forced to decide his father's fate.
I wanted to ask whether his father told him to sign a DO NOT RESUSCITATE form months earlier, back when the don was still conscious and coherent most of the time. My curiosity wanted to ask a lot of questions, but Enzo wasn't his usually chatty self today.
Like last night in the estate. Well, I had several ideas as to why. His brother was number one on the list.
That jerk shouldn't blame his brother for choosing to end their father's long suffering. Why did Leandro always treat Enzo like crap? It didn't make sense.
"Maybe, your dad just wanted the pain to be over. Maybe he wants to be with your mother now, too," I murmured after suppressing the whim to kiss Enzo on the head and crouch before him, just to make him look at me. "Ever thought of it that way?"
He touched my fingers with his bruise-free hand and squeezed them lightly. Without saying another word, Enzo lifted my hand off his shoulder to kiss my palm.
Yikes. I almost winced and pulled away.
He had an open wound on his lips and I hadn't washed my hands thoroughly this morning. The pre-surgery kind of thorough. I used some rubbing alcohol before we left his private room, but, highly doubt it was enough.
After his little kiss, I reclined and stroked his upper back. Hopefully it would make him feel better in a way. Make him feel less alone. Comforted and less lonely.
"It's almost weird, and sometimes annoying, that you always say the right thing." Enzo gave a quick, breathy laugh and glanced at me. A thin sheen of moisture made his blue irises glisten even under the poor lighting.
It wasn't a gleeful laugh at all, but, his sincerity and vulnerability just made me want to hug him all day. "It's just... I mean, you need to stop thinking everything that goes wrong is somehow your fault." I squeezed his nape to give him a light massage.
The tension in his muscles was almost too palpable. His smooth skin felt warm beneath my fingers. He kind of flinched while I massaged the back of his neck.
"Take it easy, man. No one's perfect."
"Yeah. I know."
"Don't listen to them," I sighed. "They don't understand you, because they don't want to. It's not your fault. Okay? You just chose what you thought was best for your dad."
"Really hope so." It was all Enzo said before he got up from our seat. Without even glancing at me, he just walked away from the altar while trying not to limp his way towards the wide open doors.
My breath got stuck in my throat as I stared at his slouching figure walking away from me. Did I hurt him? Or maybe I said something wrong or even more guilt-provoking. Shucks. "Hey."
No response. He just kept walking with his bodyguard right beside him.
"Enzo..." I called out when he kept ignoring me. "Where you going?"
"Your flight's in three hours. Let's go."
"No. I can stay another night." After glancing at the altar and making the Sign of The Cross, I ran after Enzo before he could exit the quiet chapel with his bodyguard. "You don't have to leave now. Sheesh. You can barely walk on your own."
"Maxim wants you home. Rang me an hour ago." Enzo paused his steps to stare at my face, his expression almost as cold as the hospital corridors. "Call the lawyer's office on the way to the airport. Then go home."
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