Her Name Was Meloni

this is gonna be epic

We arrived at the Mancini household and I was immediately overwhelmed with memories of when i was here last. That was only a year ago. Misunderstandings and make out sessions. Hopefully, no more misunderstandings and more make out sessions.

As we made our way through the empty mansion, I am struck to silence once more by its beauty. It was the perfect mix of modern and medieval. Very much gives old money.

"These are the times I remember you mother fuckers are loaded." I said.

He laughed bitterly. "Money doesn't bring happiness. Just gives the elusion of it."

What a morbid but true thought.

He pulled me through the house and brought me to his art room. The room where it all started. It looked......untouched. Like he hasn't been in here in ages. And the painting that were against the walls the last time I was here was gone.

"Where are the paintings?" I asked.

He turned to me with a sheepish smile. "If I tell you, you promise not to tell anyone. I mean, not even Mike or Tim knows."

I nodded.

"I sold them. Under a false name of course. I didn't want to leave them in here forever but i wanted to make sure they were going to go to people who appreciated them. I set up an account on some local art website where you can post your stuff and people will buy or bid for it." He said.

I was shocked by the news. Mostly cause he never showed interest in selling pieces and the other reason on why he didn't want to tell anyone. Then my thoughts went to one particular painting. "What about the one of your mothers?" I asked.

His smile falter a bit. "I kept that."

A smile splayed across my lips. If he's happy, I'm happy. "I'm proud of you Tate. It takes some artist a lot to put there art put there art out there. And your art deserves to be seen."

He smile broadened. He walked over to me and closed his arms around me tightly. "Thanks, little owl." His voice came out a little strained and I couldn't help but to hold him tighter.

He pressed his lips against the top of my head briefly before pulling away. "Alright. Let's get started, yeah?" He asked and I nodded.

"So I'm not gonna lie, it's been forever and a half since I've attempted sculpting. I used to do what I was way younger but dad made me stop cause he got annoyed by all the random shit I would bring to house." He said. I giggle as I imagine a younger Tate walking g the rough this masion with arms full of cans and other random things.

"I would've loved to see that." I said. He smirked and reached out his hand as he lead me to his desk.

"I beg you would have. Now tell me what you have in mind and we can brainstorm some materials to use?" He said as he pulled out a chair for me.

As he settled in the seat across from me, I drudged through my art bag and pulled out the sketches I was working on. It was the picture of the stuffed suitcases I was working on with a few more additions and changes. In the first bag it was just gonna be cords, IVs, and medical bags. In the second bag there are gonna two medical poles running through and it's also filled with medical papers. Both bags are closed but all the items are bursting at the seams. And the last is gonna have loch on on it but there is fake blood pouring out. And as the time goes the blood will over flow and make a puddle around all the cases.

Tate slid the paper over to himself and studied it with such a scrutinized look and made me want to grab the paper from him. "You don't like it?" I asked. To be honest, I love it but I feel like there could be something else in there. That's why I kept changing it.

He seemed not to hear me as his face morphed into a more thoughtful expression. He seemed to be contemplating something. "You think Tyler and your dad have some of the old paper work and medical documents from when you were a kid? Oh and we could also ask the hospital for some the faulty or extra bags and poles they don't use. And if not that we can probably get some from Amazon. And we definitely have some old suitcase laying around here. And when I mean old, I mean there the ones that-" he looked up at me and immediately closed his lips. "What?" He asked.

I knew I was smiling ear to ear. I forgot how cute he gets when he gets excited by something he actually likes. "So
I'm guessing you like the idea?"

"Was that not obvious?" He said sarcastically.

I laughed. "Not for awhile there. You looked like Simon Cowell or Gordon Ramsay, right before they were gonna tear some ones dreams apart. And when I asked if you didn't like it, you didn't say anything." I said.

He cringed. "Sorry. I was making a list of things we needed and where we could get it from in my head. But it's a very good depiction of your suffering and your survival. Can I ask, why three suitcases? Is there a significance with the number?" He asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Yes and no. Everything good and bad come in threes. So the number three can mean absolutely nothing. Or absolutely everything."

"Well that was cryptic as fuck." He said deadpanned and I laughed at his face. He began to get up and landed another kiss to my forehead. "Stay here. I'm gonna go grab some old suit cases and you can pick through which ones you want to use." He said.

And I nodded.

He came back with a cart full of leather suitcase, and they were perfect for the vision I was going for. And I could feel that same excitement I get when i would start making an amazing drawing. Even though I have doubts about wether or not it's finished, in this very moment I just knew.......

.......this was gonna be epic