enigma | reus

8.

ROMESSA | The Promise

They were back at the Reus household that Friday, Marco and Romessa sitting across from one another. Marco listened passively as his mother told various stories involving Ephraim to Romessa, who couldn't stop smiling at the thought of her father actually being involved in the tales Manuela recounted to her.

Marco and Romessa hadn't talked at all since they parted ways on Wednesday morning. It was beginning to feel like a game of "will we, won't we"; Marco was growing tired of it. Yet he realized that the only one stopping him was himself, despite the fact that he had his own reasons which were highly accurate—like the fact that he was practically related to her. Okay, practically was an overstatement. He had no blood ties to her, and the last thing he'd label her as was family. But Manuela treated her like one of her own, asking her the questions any mother would ask their child after not having seen them for some time. The most flustering of her questions was whether or not Romessa had a boyfriend; Yvonne ended up intervening then, apologizing to Romessa for her mother's forwardness.

When they finished dinner, Melanie announced that she'd brought a home-baked Bienenstich for dessert, but it still needed to have some more preparation done before it could be served. Romessa offered to help, landing the two in the kitchen as Melanie explained to her what the traditional German dessert was and how to place the dried almond shavings on top of it. Then, she changed the subject.

"So, have you talked to my brother at all?"

Romessa responded, politely. "A little bit." She couldn't believe it was only a week ago that they'd met; at the time, she thought Marco was a complete asshole. Who would've known, she thought.

"He hasn't always been like the way you must think he is," responded Melanie. "But since the incident, he's been different, you know?"

Romessa stopped shaking the almond shavings. "The incident?"

Melanie's face reddened. "You don't know?"

Romessa, shocked within but calm on the outside, spoke. "I have no clue what you're talking about. Then again, it's not like he'd tell me." She felt extremely curious, anxious even, to know what the "incident" was. But she knew better than to ask, and Melanie knew better to tell; quickly, the subject was changed, the cake was finished, and dessert was served.

Eventually, Melanie and Yvonne went home to their own families; Thomas and Manuela retreated to the living room, and Marco and Romessa lingered in the kitchen, half-heartedly cleaning up. Romessa wondered if she should ask Marco about the incident, but figured that it'd be overstepping a boundary. She decided to give him the space to tell her himself. But until then, she'd be wondering; trying to see if she could piece things together herself. What type of incident was Marco capable of being involved in? Of course, she had no clue. She realized that she really knew nothing about him, besides what he'd allowed her to know. And then there was what Melanie had told her—that Marco wasn't even himself, and that the version of him Romessa knew was an anomaly.

As Romessa washed a few dishes, she felt Marco's frame move behind hers; closer than two acquaintances would stand, but farther than two lovers would. She stopped rinsing the plate as he spoke, his lips inches from her ear. "I want to show you something." His hand brushed against hers before he intertwined their fingers, then let go. Romessa felt thrilled by the way he spoke. His voice, always at a hushed and secretive volume, sent waves throughout her skin; his accented English excited her, lured her into him. "Come on."

Romessa turned and followed the German, who guided her up the staircase and then down a small hallway. Marco pushed open the door to a room next to the bathroom and turned on the lights, which flickered for a moment. Romessa looked around and instantly recognized items that could only mean that this was the room of a teenage boy—sports posters, old magazines with pretty women on the covers, gaming gadgets. "This is my old room," Marco stated, closing the door before turning to face her.