Aurelio's Dilemma

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Aurelio froze for a full minute, unable to speak or think.

"Elio?" his mom pushed. "What's going on?"

He looked at her, past her, through her, still finding it hard to focus. He closed his eyes for a second. It took so much power to remain calm. It took so much energy to speak with a steady voice, to speak over his thumping heart.

"Dad told me," he said. "The other night. When we were outside, remember? He told me that he started smoking when he was fourteen, right after his dad abandoned him. I...I swear I'm not making this up. That's literally what he told me."

"Honey, but I just told you, your dad doesn't smoke. I've known him for a very long time. I'm sure his dad died when he was twelve." The skin between her brows was pinched, and her eyes glistened with worry. "Elio...you need to rest. I think you're--"

"The day I saw the accident on the news," Aurelio desperately continued, "that day I noticed a cigarette pack on the table. I asked you why it was there if no one here smokes, and you told me that Dad does. You told me he must've forgotten it there."

"I'm sure this didn't happen. I don't remember ever telling you that. I really have no idea what you're talking about."

Aurelio stared at the wall, dumbfounded. The situation was messing with his sanity at this point. He just...He couldn't have hallucinated all of that. He couldn't have. The day he saw the car crash on the news--he remembered it so well. He had forgotten his dad smoked, and his mom had reminded him that he did.

Only for her to tell him the opposite now.

What in the world was happening?

Aurelio's mom was saying something, but it was distant, like her voice couldn't penetrate the haze in Aurelio's head. It felt like the temperature dropped inside his body. Cold, so cold. Tucking his chin, he glanced at his hands, at his shaky fingers. Then he realized his chest was heaving, and still not enough air could fill his lungs.

No. Not here. Not right now.

He looked at his lap and balled his hands and forced his stupid anxiety aside.

Not here. Not right now.

"Elio, listen to me," his mom said, this time with a firm voice that demanded his attention. Aurelio looked at her. There was a constant tremble inside his ribcage, fear and disorientation rumbling like earthquakes. "You can't think straight because you're exhausted. Maybe it's better if you rest a little first, and then we'll talk. Okay? You can't focus like this."

Aurelio stared a little longer, and he was about to yield because he knew she was right. But a realization hit him then and he frowned instead.

"Wait," he said. "You're right. I know I'm tired and I know it might be affecting my thought process, but that doesn't apply to what I said about you telling me that Dad smokes the day I saw the car crash on the news. I wasn't exhausted back then. It was just a normal day. I remember it clearly. So that's one thing I'm sure of, but now you're telling me it didn't happen."

With concern dampening her eyes, his mom looked at him. No response, no words. Nothing. She didn't know what to say. She was probably thinking, what happened to the child that never gave us trouble? Where is he now? He hoped she knew he hated this more than anyone.