The Love of An Invisible

“18/05/2019 – New York, Manhattan, Upper East Side.

[Iuri Stevens’ Vision]

“It’s been exactly eight days, I was so discouraged that I couldn’t even concentrate on anime anymore to finish my marathon. I feel tired, I look at the clock and it strikes seven-thirty in the morning. I don’t want to go to school; today is Friday, and now there’s only one week left until the prom.”

“Son?” my father enters my room without knocking on the door.

He knows I don’t like this; I value privacy, but both he and my mother seem to do this just to drive me crazy. I take a deep breath and sit up in bed. He walks further into my room, and I look at him quickly and am surprised to see him not dressed in his suit. His outfit is a navy blue polo shirt and beige shorts, with sandals. It is not a common look; he is always in his suit with his hair perfectly aligned.

“Hi, Dad,” I answer quietly, but I know he heard me.

He sits beside me on the bed, curves his spine, and rests his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands.

“A few days ago, Mrs. Lueni came to talk to me, worried about you,” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “You, my son, are someone who fills me with pride. You are educated and intelligent, you have never gotten into anything wrong, and you have never let anyone down. I love you too much. So, if you are suffering from something, come to me, son. Besides being your father, I am your friend.”

He comes out of his initial position and looks me in the eye. I know he loves me. I love him too. My father is sentimental; whenever he can, both he and my mother say that he loves me. The love I receive from my parents is something that, thank God, I have plenty of. I take a deep breath. Is it now that we are finally going to have the girl talk? I feel my fingertips freeze, I am nervous and embarrassed.

“I…,” pause and take a deep breath, I seek courage from the depths of my being. “I like a girl,” I say quickly and look away.

I don’t have the courage to look at my father; we have never talked about anything like this.

“Very good son, how old is she?”

“Seventeen.”

“Is she pretty? What is the name of the chosen one?” You can feel the excitement in his voice.

“I have never seen anyone more beautiful. Her name is Aya… Aya Millenis,” I clutch the bed sheets tightly as I confess.

“I didn’t expect that, my son is wearing out my friend’s youngest daughter. Not bad. Aya is really beautiful and very polite. It’s a good choice, son,” my father slaps me twice on the back. I should smile and be happy with his words, but all I do is just stare at the floor and hold back the tears that try to moisten my eyes.

This question makes my heart break into a thousand little pieces; the image of her and Leandro talking on the stairs comes to my mind, making me even more tired. I didn’t even have the opportunity to say hello to her.

“I didn’t get the chance, and she declared herself to someone else.”

“So she is dating…”

“I don’t know; I didn’t stay to see the answer.”

Silence, that’s what I get to my surprise. I expected him to come with a long speech, but he said nothing, and I thank him for it. I doubt he could do anything to help me.

“How about we go for pizza and play ice hockey?” he asks, giving me a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

Do I feel like it? No, I don’t feel like leaving this room at all, but staying in here is not going to make reality any less painful. He smiles weakly and nods positively to my father.

“Go wash your face and let’s go,” he says, getting out of bed.

“Mom won’t fight because the first meal is pizza?”

“If you don’t tell, I won’t either,” he winks at me and leaves the room.

I shake my head; only my father could make me get out of this cesspool. I take a deep breath and jump out of bed, go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and wash my face. I’m going to play field hockey in the middle of summer; only my father can do that.

I pick up my wallet from the computer table and put it in the pocket of my shorts; I leave the room. Arriving at the living room, my father waits at the door, holding the keys to his car.

“Let’s enjoy this; you’re going to start practicing, brave one,” he throws the keys to me, and I take them.

“Are you sure?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure, you’re already eighteen; you need a license!”

He smiles, and I go through the door first. I feel the adrenaline running through my whole nervous system; my hands itch. I’m already near the car, a black Tesla Model S. I always wanted to drive it, but every time I asked, my father said it wasn’t time yet. So, I decided to wait, and now finally the time has come.

I sit in the driver’s seat and press the key. My father gets in the driver’s seat.Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

“Do you need any directions?” he asks, smiling.

He smiles as well, and without answering, I start the car to move. The feeling of the steering wheel in my hands is very good; I feel like accelerating the car even more, but I restrain myself. If I do so, my father will never let me touch any car again.

The streets are quiet; the speed of the car does not exceed sixty kilometers per hour. I open the windows and feel the warm summer wind blowing against my face, leaving me stagnant.

“Look at that, you can get your license now, son,” he comments and pats me on the back twice, showing his pride.

“Yes, I feel like a professional driver,” I laugh at my own amusement, and so does my father.

It doesn’t take long; in less than ten minutes, I am already parking the car in the parking lot in front of the pizzeria. The menu is already on the table; we choose a chicken and cheese pizza, my favorite. We drink orange soda and laugh a lot with memories and stories from when my father was still a child.

“Son,” he calls me, stopping laughing. I take a sip of the soda to swallow the piece of pizza.

“Yes,” I answer, wiping my mouth.

“This year you are graduating. Do you already know what course you are going to take in college?”

My parents always told me that I could take the course I most identified with, that I didn’t need to meet the expectations of becoming an executive like my father, my father’s father, my father’s father’s father, and so on. But I never thought about any profession, although I think I am intelligent, I never had a passion for anything, so why not follow my father’s example?

“I am going to study business administration, Dad,” I say and give a

small smile.

The smile that my father gives is huge; I know that he would accept any course that I chose. But knowing that I will follow in his footsteps made him extremely happy, and this makes me happy too. He always did everything he could for me. And I once heard him talking to Mom that although he would accept any profession I chose, he would like me to follow in his footsteps and in the future allow him to retire, leaving everything in my hands to enjoy the trips with my mother.

“I am happy, my son. I know you will be an excellent professional,” still smiling, he goes back to eating his pizza.

I also eat mine again; now I feel more relieved, my mind is calm, and that’s very good.

[Cristine Millenis]

“Good morning, daughter,” mom kisses my forehead as I enter the kitchen.

“Good morning!” I answer and finish spreading the cream cheese on the bread.

“What about college?” she sits down at the table and starts to prepare her coffee as well.

“It’s going very well; my grades are as high as ever,” I say and bite the first piece of bread.

Although Mom is loving, she is very demanding; low grades, lack of education, complaints, scandals, and so on are things that neither she nor Dad accept at all. For them, image is everything, and being perfect is nothing more than a mere obligation.

“Good morning!” Aya says, sitting down at the table as well.

“Good morning!” Only I return her greeting.

“Have you improved your grades in philosophy and geography?” and off we go into yet another discussion between them.

“I did my homework, and I’m waiting for the results, Mom,” Aya answers quietly and takes a slice of bread from the basket.

“I hope you don’t embarrass us with more low grades on your report card; we don’t pay for schools to…”

“I know, Mom, I said I’ll get my grades back, okay?” Aya interrupts Mom’s speech.

By some miracle, that conversation ended there. Mom and Dad are angry with Aya; her grades didn’t even come in red, it was eight and a half, but our parents don’t admit grades below nine and a half. Sigh, it’s exhausting this life; Aya seems so disconnected, and in my parents’ view, it always seems as if she’s bullying them. Even the company socials where they work have stopped taking her; the last time she spilled juice on her clothes, and my parents found it embarrassing. Well, there is nothing I can do; all that is left is to try to be the best I can.

My relationship with her cooled down after I entered puberty, but when I tried to get closer, it was her turn to go on this roller coaster of emotions. But that doesn’t make me stop loving her; she is my little sister, whom I will love forever because it is just the two of us, and the older one’s duty is to take care of the younger one.

“Bye, Mom, Bye, Aya,” I say goodbye and pick up the backpack that was hanging on my chair and leave the house.

I take the keys to my car and get in, start it, and drive to the university.