Held down.
Stuck.
Frozen in place.
I physically couldn’t move because my emotions were too heavy.
That’s when I realized what the future held for me.
Angelina Nylene Diamante.
CHAPTER FOUR
Name.
The paperwork in front of me taunted me.
I had made the decision under the hot spray of water. Only when the shower ran cold did I emerge. Stepping out, I knew what I had to do. What Giano would want me to do.
I called Alanzo.
He encouraged me and set up the appointment today.
It felt rushed.
It was all too soon.
Except, I had this hard lesson in life where time was never on my side.
Things didn’t happen when I wanted them to or how I desired so I had to once again take the hits life threw me.
With my hands trembling I filled out sealing my future as Angelina Diamante. Signing this gave me access to all of Giano’s money, insurance, stocks, and entitled me to everything.
Alanzo sat beside me in the second leather chair that was placed across from the oversized attorney’s desk.
The air in the room was chilly. The furniture was all done in deep cherry wood and the dark walls gave the room a powerful feel. Then again, maybe it was just in the air. This room I was sure had been used to sign many divorce papers, many wills, and many inheritance papers like now. All of them tied to an ending of some sort.
Ending.
Giano’s life ended.
I had to accept it.
Even now, it didn’t feel real, but I knew it was.
Signing these papers was nothing more than another reminder of what I lost not what I was gaining.
“Where to next?” The attorney who Alanzo gave me his name but I didn’t listen asked.
His name didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but signing the paperwork so I could have my affairs in order and get out of here.
“College,” I managed to mutter.
“Locally or away?”
“Time will tell,” Alanzo cut him off causing me to turn and look at him. He gave the slightest nod of his head. His face remained stoic, giving nothing away.
I took the hint. In moments we were leaving and I had everything in order.
“Never tell anyone your plans. Don’t allow anyone the lock on you,” Alanzo instructed as he opened the car door for me.
Now I knew why he cut me off about school. Always protecting me, that was Uncle Zozo.
The attorney would file everything and I now had a house, three cars, and a boat I didn’t know about along with four life insurance policies, and the money in the bank.
I was set for life.
I didn’t have to go to school.
I could live off what was left to me.
Except I didn’t want that.
Losing everything over and over again had taught me one thing: do not rely on anyone else to take care of me ever again.
With every passing day, I realized I needed help.
Emotional help.
Mentally I had crashed.
Except I couldn’t go to therapy. No one could know my truth. Alanzo had made it clear the world Giano was tied to and who my parents really were put a target on my back.
The only way I could recover my mental stability was to teach myself.
With that decided, Alanzo and I spend the week figuring out the best schools for me to study psychology. He listened to all of my thoughts and gave me opinions of his own. In the end, we came up with a plan that had a long-term safety net for me.
Money.
It was funny to learn the things it could buy me. Like an acceptance to a collage in Oregon that had no openings.
The West Coast would show Giano’s associates that I was truly out of the picture. It solidified my move to be apart from the life he led. This would keep me secure and able to focus on my studies. Alanzo didn’t feel I was in any danger. For the most part, Giano had very few true enemies. The ones he did have he gained by refusing to work for them not because he crossed anyone. This meant that any allies would rally behind protecting me should the need arise.
Somehow, I didn’t find this comforting.
I also wasn’t afraid.
I was simply numb.
So what if an enemy took me out. What life did I really have left to lead? I would be the easiest kill for anyone because my will to live was ultimately gone. I was only existing to honor Giano.
It took some time going over things, but I had a plan. With Uncle Zozo the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. I was going to move and have a fresh start.
One I was in control of.
**
Seven Months Later
Waking up, I felt the same longing I had since getting here. It wasn’t home.
But home wasn’t home without Giano so this was a feeling I knew I would have anywhere I went. While I wished with everything that I could not be so lost, that I could find passion for something again, I simply couldn’t.
Oregon was peaceful, though.
The air was clean. The people I had encountered were nice. Going to school in Portland I had some hustle and bustle, but driving outside of town, I had an apartment that was cozy. I lived the college life where everything was about classes, projects, and exams.
The same stir-crazy feeling I dealt with every morning since burying Giano washed over me. Getting out of bed, I dressed quickly and put on my running shoes.
Running.
It was my calm in the storm.
The pavement moved under my body. Step-by-step, my feet pushed me forward. This was how my life worked. Keep moving forward, against all odds.
The direction I went didn’t matter, it was the fact that I was moving. I was headed somewhere, even if I didn’t always know where that here was specifically.
For me, running was a release. Once I started, I continued on, taking in every step, every foot, every mile. It was the return that got me every time. I knew what awaited me at home.
Nothing.
Emptiness.
Void.
Quiet.
Solitude.
This was my reprieve from the walls closing in. The open air, the rock beneath me, and pushing my body to keep on. I always hesitated when it came time to go home. I struggled with the word, the thoughts, and the space. Running was always easy to keep going when I was going anywhere but the empty space I resided.
By the time I got back, showered, changed, and headed to school, I was late. This was not uncommon.
Rushing to campus and into the History class, I was a mess of books, my bag, and my mind.
“You must be Ms. Diamante,” the professor announced upon my scurried entrance.
I nodded.
“Seeing as it’s the first day of the new semester, it isn’t often students miss role call … at least today. Take your seat,” he ordered and I struggled to get settled. “Let’s not be so disruptive, shall we.”
The pompous ass began his lecture on the syllabus for the quarter. Truthfully, I didn’t care. This was a wasted class to me. There was nothing for me to learn from history other than the millions of mistakes that had been made by leaders over time only creating more discord in humanity.
I was being harsh, judging him, and considering him an arrogant ass based on a brief two-minute interaction. However, I found it more disrupting to his class for him to call me out rather than to continue on.
For in theatre, the show must go on, why did professors not subscribe to this same philosophy.
His hazel eyes bore into mine as he lectured on and on about the expectations of the materials covered, projects due, and deadlines that would under no circumstance be moved.
It was the same damn speech they all gave.
Except Mr. Patrick gave off the domineering attitude that somehow made his words sink
in deeper. I didn’t want to challenge him or fail to meet his expectations.
It made me think.
I didn’t often have any kind of reaction to anyone. Typically, I wasn’t concerned with satisfying anyone else’s demands of me. I had lost everything so I had nothing left to lose. This man though, he struck a chord inside of me. One that had been silent since Giano’s death. It was an uncomfortable feeling to have this reaction to him.
Funny the human psyche. The totality of one’s mind, both subconsciously and consciously and the reactions we had to others. It was strange.
For everyone was wired differently.
Something about his baritone and pitch changes for emphasis had my ears alert to his every word, but not comprehending them.
The rest of the lecture hall left my mental space as I seemed entranced by his command of the room.
Mr. Patrick, Shawn Patrick, was a new professor to the school having only relocated here from New Jersey during the fall semester, same as me. He had dark hair and hazel eyes. His build was bulky, but from the form of his neck it was muscle and not fat.
With the way he carried himself, he didn’t seem to be a man of overindulgence, but rather one in complete control.
Control.
I craved it. My entire childhood was spent completely out of my control. So now, I fought for it.
Mr. Patrick was in command of the room, complete, confident control.
He didn’t smile, he didn’t carry on, he stated what he felt was important to our class and moved on.
Precise.
To the point.
He didn’t mince words or waste them. He was clear.
I found it … no him … attractive.
My palms were sweating as my heartbeat irregularly. I wasn’t sure if I was having a panic attack or thoroughly engaged in his trance. This was unfamiliar to me as no one stood out to me, male or female, since my arrival in Oregon. In fact, this was the first moment outside of running where my heart has even raced.
Attraction was a funny thing like that.
I felt my foot turn inward slightly and forced it back to the straight position.
Body language. I had studied much about it over the summer with nothing to do but read. When a woman was attracted to a man, subconsciously we turned one foot slightly inward. It was something one had to truly pay attention to in order to notice.
Well, Alanzo had warned me to never give any cues to anyone about anything. I was closed off to the world and to my emotions.
For this was how my life had to be without Giano.
CHAPTER FIVE
Some habits die hard.
Getting lost in my morning run was a new habit and one I couldn’t shake or break. I knew I was out of control, but I didn’t know what to do with my emotions. I couldn’t run from them but I certainly couldn’t hide way holed up with them. I didn’t know what to do, what to think, or how to channel everything I felt.
I was angry.
I was sad.
I was filled with guilt.
I was everything damaged.
Being late was just another fuck up in the list of how messed up my life had become. Although, I guess I shouldn’t consider running a habit as much as a failed coping mechanism. I used running to work out my emotions like a therapy of sorts. I failed to be successful in healing because I didn’t know how to stop. I would push my body until I couldn’t anymore than and only then would I return home. This meant I constantly lost track of time.
For the mind was a war zone, at least for me. My emotions were at battle between grief and elation. I obviously grieved for Giano. I found small happiness in the fact that I was indeed getting by.
Who could say they were given a second chance like me? Who could say that in that second chance came a third that left endless possibilities for the future?
I had to be broken, unrepairable not to find some happiness in the gifts Giano had left me. I wasn’t so ungrateful as to have zero appreciation.
It was just tangled up in my grief.
The loss took over every other emotion I could feel. In everything, every day, I pictured him. I pictured the life I could have had with him if I hadn’t crossed the line.
It wasn’t like Giano wouldn’t have sent me to college.
I only wished he was here. The money, the lifestyle, the education, I would give it all up to have him back.
In this time and distance apart from his home, I had come to terms with things. A line had truly been crossed. One that we could not uncross.
Now, I had to learn to deal with and accept the consequences for those actions.
Accountability.
Another human trait or flaw dependent upon one’s ability to hold themselves accountable. I struggled with it at times.
These were the many thoughts I had as I pushed the pavement under me. Running. Pressing on. As each foot hit the gravel beneath me I was propelling my body and my mind.
I would let the memories invade and then let the pain of my aching muscles remind me I was still alive.
I knew I needed to get a handle on life.
I needed to structure my runs to be more fitting to my class schedule.
Self-control to stop when I was going too far or too hard, I didn’t have it.
Like today as I yet again rush into Professor Patrick’s class, late, I allowed myself to get consumed in my pace. Time was forgotten.
As I was running, I kept seeing his eyes as they locked onto mine yesterday. The way he seemed to seer my very soul with his gaze.
I had felt that once before.
When I was ten years old and my savior came.
Except Professor Shawn Patrick was not my savior. He was my instructor and by the red flush to his cheeks highly pissed at me as I made my way into the room and to my seat.
“Ms. Diamante, I’ll need to see you after class.”
His tone left no room for me to argue so I nodded knowing I had truly gotten myself into it now. I knew I was not leaving a good impression. Not that I cared what he thought, this was not good for my academic career to have a string of hits for tardiness in the first week of the second semester. What could I say? He wouldn’t understand my head space. He wouldn’t forgive my lack of respect for his class. I was another student, in a random class, who to him, had a punctuality problem.
Class droned on with him commanding the room with a no-nonsense attitude that I was certain commanders of Army’s would have been proud of. He carried himself well with features that had a hint of arrogance to them. Such as the way his eyebrows slightly lifted as he spoke, seeming to imply he was merely gracing the class with his presence. The words flowed from his mouth as if he were tired of speaking to people who could grasp the depths of his knowledge.
Or maybe, my mind was playing tricks on me.
Maybe, I was seeing this pompous ass inside of him as a self-destructive way to stop any attraction in it’s tracks.
One thing I knew was self-awareness. It was the hardest lesson I had learned in my loss of Giano. And being aware of myself, my mind was thoroughly fucked up. I knew that as much as I knew my name was Fallyn Valencia and not really Angelina.
Class ended and I stayed in place until everyone filed out of the doors. Only then did I make my way down to the front where he was.
“Do you have a problem telling time, Ms. Diamante?” He propped himself against his desk and folded his arms across his chest as his eyes bore into mine.
“No,” I managed to reply.
“Is this going to be a daily thing, a habit of sorts?” He asked me tersely.
“No,” I said firmly, my agitation was growing by the second.
“Did you read the expectations? Do you understand my policy on tardiness?”
“Yes,” I lied.
It was a history class. The policy didn’t matter. I would go to class, get my assignments done, and move on. History was not my major and would not d
o a damn thing for me in the future. It was a requirement, nothing more, nothing less.
His brow furrowed. “You’re a psychology major. Which is rather surprising to me to have that already written in your file as a freshman. Then again, your late application, and easy acceptance are also quite striking too.”
My breaths hitched. He knew too much. He went digging and was asking questions. I felt my body temperature rise. The fear was taking hold. Was he tied to someone from Giano’s world? Would he figure out who I really was? Maybe I should have stayed on the East Coast.
“I know you come from a special background,” he said making me shake my head in confusion.
“I don’t know what assumption you’re making here, but you’re wrong!”
“You are Angelina Diamante. Your father was a master hitman for many elite crime families on the east coast.”
Fury.
I felt it overtake me as he mentioned Giano. How dare this man speak of my life as if he knew a damn thing about any of it. How dare him think of mentioning Giano. I made a mental note to speak with Alanzo about him. I needed to figure out his ties to Giano and what he might really know of my so-called past.
“My father’s job is none of your concern. I’ll be to class on time. My acceptance here is not of your concern either because you were not and are not on the admissions board.”
“The Diamante temper. You should know, I pose no threat to you. I just understand more of what you went through than you realize.”
I shook my head in absolute disbelief. “So you kept me here to bond with me? I don’t need friends Professor Patrick. I’m here for an education, and yes it is centered around psychology.”
“I merely kept you here to find out why you keep arriving late to my class. You see, your general studies are required for a degree of any sort so my class is required no matter what your major is. If you have such a disregard for my time, my class, then one must wonder whether you will give your true attention and energy to the classes that will matter in your profession one day.”
“I lost track of time. This is a new schedule. It won’t happen again.”
Reclaiming Me Page 3
