Velvet Walls

Chap.3, Home.

My suitcases are loaded into my parent's car. It's a 15-minute drive to Lambert airport, which is good. Less time to change my mind in the car. I pull Eve aside before we leave.

"If anything happens while I'm gone, if he says anything to her, lays a finger on her, you tell me, okay? I swear to you, I don't care if I'm 100 miles in the air, I will have them turn the plane around and fly back. If you ever need anything, tell me."

She nods, "I don't think they would turn the plane around for you, but thanks. Will do."

I mean every word of what I say. I'm willing to come all the way back to get Eve if she needs me to. But I trust my dad will keep his promise. For now. My parents and Eve drop me off at lambert. We make a scene before I go through security. Hugging, crying, saying I love you like I'm dying or something. My parents and Eve even start saying "I love you" to each other, I don't know why. They'll see each other on the drive back. I finally manage to get through security, and they leave. I text Eve as soon as I get to my gate, and on the plane, then again when I land. I also text my mom to let her know I got there safely. My mom lets me know that someone will pick me up and take me to the house. Sure enough, I hear my name being called out the window of a black car. I don't know much about cars, but this one looks expensive. A man steps out of it.

"Are you Viola Y'vette?"

"Yes." I sigh, I'm out of breath from carrying my luggage. Well, I guess dragging is a better word for it.

"Here, let me help you with your bags."

He takes my things from me and loads them into the trunk. I look at him for a moment. He looks Balkan, and like he's in his late 30's or 40's.

"Are you Mr. Dervishi?" I ask.

He chuckles, "No, I'm his assistant/younger brother. You can call me Gijon. Everyone calls me Uncle Gijon. But I figured that would be too weird for you?"

I laugh uncomfortably.

"Yeah uhm, I think I'll just stick with Gijon."

Gijon has an Albanian accent. He has dark hair and a beard. He's a little pudgy, too. We get into the car and start driving. He's nice, but kind of intimidating. I wonder how alike he and Mr. Dervishi are. Driving through California feels like driving through my childhood. The nostalgia really starts to hit when we drive into the mountains. The odds of me seeing my old house are impossibly low, I don't even know what town it was in, but I still feel a jolt in my heart each time we pass someone's residence. I don't know how I'd feel if I saw that house again. What seeing it would do to me, probably wouldn't be pretty. Even if I did see it, I don't think I could ever step inside again. It's funny. A part of me wants nothing more than to go back to that little ranch house. To live there again. With my mom, when we were happy with just us two. Before we came to Saint Louis. Before I learned that love and hate were interchangeable. Indifferent from one another. Before...

"So, have you always lived in the famous gateway city?" Gijon saves me from my train of thought, which was most definitely headed towards a cliff.

"Uhm, no actually, I was born in California."

"Oh! An O.G. Californian. That's rare nowadays."

I nod.

"What city?"

"Los Angeles." Gijon doesn't need to know we couldn't afford to live in the city. Not yet anyway.

He makes a sound like "Mmh,"

I can't tell if he's impressed or judging me.

"I've been there recently, the whole place is swarming with influencers, you know?"