THIRTY FOUR

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height


R O M A N

I could feel her nervousness pulsing through the car. I couldn't help but feel it. There was something about the way she was sitting that made me concerned, her knees angled away from me and her chin resting on her fist as she looked longingly out the window. She looked like she was going to throw up.

Will she throw up?

My mom would kill me if I got vomit in my car.

Like that's important right now.

However, I felt her fear. It was weird with Sienna; sometimes I believed us to be on two different planets, yet I always knew what she was feeling. I knew she was keeping something from me yet what that something was, I didn't know, and I couldn't help but let my mind wander to what it was.

Was her family horrible? Did they hurt her? – I swear to god if they hurt her...

She Italian. What if this is some mafia kind of shit? Oh god, please don't let this be some mafia kind of shit.

Trying to take my mind off it all, I focused on driving down the suburban street that led to the one I assumed she lived down. She didn't stop me when I made the turning down here so I assumed I was going the right way.

I should have put on some music. Maybe that would relax her. Maybe Lana Del Rey? No. Not Lana Del Rey. All Skye played these past few days was Lana Del Rey and I could not think about Skye at the moment. Not when I had to worry about Sienna.

When Sienna showed up at the hospital, I didn't know what to think. I was shocked, surprised, slightly terrified but, somehow, relieved. Relieved it was her and not anyone else. Relieved it was her. Just her. I didn't have to hesitate to tell her about Skye, things were easy around her and I knew that no matter what, she wouldn't judge. I tried to hesitate for myself.

You see, when the other child in your family isn't fine, you must be. That was something people didn't easily understand for some reason. How could Roman Lawrence feel as if he has to be perfect when he's already got the perfect grades for everything? That wasn't my problem. I had the grades; I had the brain to do well. I've always been one of those kids who struggled writing down the working out in tests because I already automatically knew the answer. My problem was being fine mentally.

There's a toll things can take on you and you either accept it or repress it. I repressed it. Boxing only did so much. Boxing got out my anger and stress, boxing calmed me down, boxing let me get stuck in the moment. Although when that moment was over, the other things came flooding through. I assumed that was how people got addicted to sex. It's a moment that you get lost in, allowing you to forget everything, then when it's over, everything comes flooding through.

Again, I was assuming. Yeah, because you're a virgin. No shit, Sherlock.

I looked back at Sienna, noticing how she fiddled with her hands in her lap as she got nervous, how she was picking at her nails. She always did that, just how she always wore a citrusy perfume, just how she liked cherry-flavoured things because her breath always tasted like it. These were things she hadn't even told me and yet I knew them. I wondered if she did the same for me? Were there things I did that she noticed? Why did I care?

I flicked my blinker left to turn down the street I knew where all the big houses lied when she spoke up.

"Straight ahead." What? She lived down there though.

"I thought that –"

"You thought wrong. Straight ahead." Straight ahead? I never came down these streets anyways because I had no reason to meaning I had no clue what lied straight ahead, but it's where she wanted me to go, so I was going there. I didn't fail to notice the wobble in her voice as she spoke. I had never seen her cry. It was weird, I've seen a lot of her – all of her if we're speaking technically, and I've never seen her cry. I didn't know why it bothered me so much.

Adam's probably seen her cry.

Yeah, but Adam's probably made her cry.

I didn't want to make Sienna cry. I didn't want to make anyone cry. I never understood how someone could leave another to cry, even in movies when there's a breakup scene and one of them is left crying on the floor, I didn't know how the other just left them there and walked away.

Skye used to cry all the time.

I remembered the day I found out. My mom told me she had problems, I went up to her room and she was sobbing. It was angry sobbing. Angry at my mom for telling. Angry at herself for letting it happen. I wanted her to give me the names of the boys who talked about girls that way, who made her feel so insecure. I so badly wanted to give them a piece of my mind, excluding the fact they were thirteen. Instead, she cried as I hugged her. The emotion of hugging your little sister and feeling pure bone is a feeling I can and will never be able to describe.

  It's the start of a nightmare.

The tall rows of houses shrunk as we got further down the street and I glanced over to Sienna who didn't seem to care.

"Sienna, if this is a joke –"

"32." She cut me off. I stared at her for a few seconds.

"What?"

"My house number. 32. Look out for it."

Was she playing me? Why would she play you? I didn't know, but it didn't seem right. Nonetheless, I kept driving and the houses grew smaller.

30... 31... 32.

The house was small, smaller than mine but more on the sense of adorable. The creamy-yellow panelled exterior with the white paned windows, and brown tiled roof made it look cute, cosy even but there was something about it that made it different.

This was where Sienna lived?

I was about to speak when she abruptly got out of the car, grabbing her things, keeping her head down as she walked to the front. I chased after her.

"Sienna!" I called. "Sienna, is this a joke?" this had to be a joke. There was no way she lived here.

She didn't respond and took a house key out of her pocket, fumbling with it, opening the door. I couldn't see her expression. It felt like she was hiding it from me, and I hated it.

I chased her into the house without a thought. The first time I noticed was the wooden flooring that squeaked as soon as I pressed my foot down, then the hall lined with pictures, mainly of her.

A little Sienna around seven or eight playing at the local beach a few hours or so from here. Little Sienna holding a rock with the name 'Stonely' written across in yellow chalk. She had a pet rock. Sienna had a pet rock, and it was freaking adorable. Her gap-tooth smile stood out to me as I saw another picture of her at the Yellowstone National Park. She looked older here, around eleven, with a purple rain-mac on. A man was behind her, hugging her, his dark brown skin glistened with rain drop which explained why she was wearing the raincoat. His smile was huge as he pointed to the camera. Who was he? A family friend of some kind?

"Sienna?!" a voice called from the kitchen. "Sienna is that you?" it was the voice of a woman.

"Yeah!" Sienna called back, refusing to look back at me.

"Close the door behind you! You're letting all the heat out!" the woman called back. Sienna pushed passed me and closed the door, pushing passed me again as I stood as still as ever. This couldn't be her house. There was no way. Sienna was rich, Sienna lived in a mansion, her parents were CEOs of some kind. She wasn't this. How could she be this?

I walked further into the house till I reached the kitchen, the floor was now a kind of stone and plants were hanging from every shelf and corner in the room.

A woman stood at the stove, stirring something in a pan, humming to herself. She turned around to look at Sienna, smiling before her eyes fell on me. I first thing I noticed was that she was East-Asian. Her slender yet tall frame leaned against the kitchen counter as she examined me. Her hair fell down in soft curls to her shoulder as her eyes, so brown they were almost black, studied me, not intimidatingly, just curiously, welcoming almost.

"This is Roman, mom." Sienna replied. "He's a friend." Mom. She called her mom. She looked nothing like Sienna. Sienna was Italian, not Asian. So how could.... She was adopted.

Holy shit, Sienna was adopted.

Her mom didn't just make Chinese food, her mom was Chinese, and I instantly knew that the man from the picture was her father. She was adopted.

"Well..." she looked me up and down and gave a sly look to her daughter, I didn't know what it meant but I saw a redness flush Sienna's cheek as she rolled her eyes. "It's nice to meet you, Roman."

"You too." I answered, "Erm, Mrs –"

"Jia. Just call me Jia." She smiled kindly.

"Jia." I nodded. "What –"

"Is dad home?" Sienna cut me off. Jia looked her way and shook her head.

"No, he's finishing work at Rya's dad's house." Rya's dad's house?

"Cool." She replied and we stood there in awkward silence. So many questions were swirling around my head and I couldn't keep up with it. Sienna lied. She lied about being rich. But why?

Jia coughed and placed a hand on her hip the same way her daughter always did. "Well, I guess I'm making you both awkward enough." A teasing look flickered in her eyes before she smiled happily, "Your dad and I are going to the charity dance at the care home."

"Tell Mrs Bach I said hi."

"As always, but we won't be back till late, so I made you some soup to heat up. Your friend can have some too if he wants. D'you like soup, Roman? I can always cook something else if you don't."

"Soup's fine." I assured. Soup's fine but my brain wasn't.

"Good!" Jia happily clapped her hands together. "We'll be back late." She walked over and pulled Sienna into a hug, kissing the side of her head, "But please don't stay up to late, and call me if you need anything. I mean it."

   "I know, I will." Sienna assured.

   "I know, but last time you set the microwave on fire trying to heat up some pasta and —"

"I will, mom. Don't worry." Sienna groaned, cutting her off.

"Okay! Okay!" Jia held her hands up in defence. "You know about to use a microwave, don't you, Roman?"

   "Mom?!"

   "Um, yes ma'am." I awkwardly replied feeling Sienna's complete embarrassment.

   "Good, good." She smiled, knowing she's completed her mission to embarrass her daughter like any mom would. "You just have fun with your... friend." She winked and nudged Sienna's side before grabbing her things and walking out. She seemed like a wonderful woman. I didn't know why Sienna wanted to hide her. Everyone would know she's adopted. But why did that matter?

I was about to turn and say something, what I was about to say I had no clue, but Sienna ran up the stairs behind us before I could.

"Sienna!" I called after her. She stalked down the hall and then to the left where a narrow, white door was. Her bedroom.

It was slightly smaller than mine, except the wooden floors darker and creaked even further wherever I stepped. The walls were plain white, dotted around was a wardrobe, desk, and vanity. I noticed the pictures frames containing photos of her and her parents, her and Rya, solo ones of her at different school dances, I tried to ignore the one with her and Adam at Junior Prom as it rested on her window seal. However, the pictures weren't what I was looking at the most.

It was books.

Tons and tons of books. Shelves of them, classics, romance, fantasy, mystery. So many of them. Sienna liked the read. No. Sienna didn't just like the read. Sienna was a full-blown book nerd.

I remembered the time she quoted 1984 and brushed it off so easily. She's read it. And by the look of it on her bedside, she's read it a lot.

I didn't know what to do with myself as I stood just over her doorway. I had never been in a girl's room before, other than my sister's before she left, but that wasn't what I was worried about. I was never too worried when I was with Sienna. The thing I was worried about was why. Why did she keep all of this? Why did she hide her life from everyone else?

I watched as she rushed over to a bucket in the corner of the room, drops of water falling into it from the ceiling.

"Sorry." She quickly apologised. "The storm caused a leak and... well yeah." She cringed back at it before looking back at me, as if she was waiting for me to say something.

"You're adopted." Was all I could say. Well done, Roman. Just stating the fucking obvious.

"Erm... yeah." She looked uncomfortable. The last thing I wanted to do was make her uncomfortable.

So many questions circled my mind, I didn't know which one to ask first.

"How?" was all I could say. She wasn't getting the message. "The clothes and the designer stuff... how?"

She gulped, afraid of what she might say next. I didn't care what she said next, I just wanted to know.

"Rya." She answered. "Every birthday and Christmas she buys me all these expensive things." She looked down at herself. Her clothes were dripping with riches. Rya did this for her. Rya knew. Of course, Rya knew, she's her best friend. "And the thrift shop." She answered again. That made sense. I wondered why Sienna would go into a thrift shop having so much money, but she didn't. That was also a lie.

"Sienna..." I took a step forward and she took one back. She was afraid. Did I make her afraid? A rush of worry went through me as I looked at her. I could tell she was trying to figure out what I made of all of this. In reality, I didn't give a shit. She was still Sienna. The sarcastic, funny, adorable, stunning Sienna.

"I-I want to talk." She stuttered. I refused to take my eyes off her as she took a deep breath. "And... And I want you to listen."

I stepped further into the room, my heart beating out of my chest. I knew Sienna – at least, I thought I did. I was scared that whatever she was about to say would change the way I see her. Yet, in some strange way, I knew that no matter what she said, I could never hate her. I didn't understand it myself, but Sienna was always going to be Sienna, and she was always going to be the person I trusted most in this world.

"My biological mom was Italian." She began and the word 'was' stuck out to me. "She moved to Brazil after college to work." she took a deep breath, holding herself together as she spoke. "She got sick. Really sick, and the only treatment available was in Russia – Moscow. That's where she met my biological dad." Russian. She was Italian and Russian. She never told anyone she was Russian, and I couldn't help but wonder why, but I waited for her to continue. "She... She got better and then they got married a-and then they had me." Sienna was born in Russia – Moscow and I found it one of the most interesting pieces of information ever. I couldn't explain why but it was something new. Something I knew not many people knew about her. Something she trusted me enough to tell.

She took a pause and swallowed down whatever emotion that was about to come up. "He left. He just... left her. He left me. And... and that's all I know about him." That was why she didn't tell people she was Russian. She didn't want to be associate with a man that left her. A man that was so cowardice he couldn't take on the role of a husband or a father. Someone who's meant to be there throughout anything. I felt my blood boil. How could someone leave people like that? It made me sick.

"She went back to Brazil to work again but..." I heard the crack in her voice. I felt like the worst person in the world making her tell me this. I so wanted to walk up to her and tell her that it was okay, hug her and tell her she didn't have to, and I was about to if it wasn't for the determination that overcame her expression as she continued. "The sickness came back and she didn't have to money to go and get treatment, so she gave me up. I was barely one when she put me in an orphanage and then... and then she... she just died."

It wasn't a story of hate — story of unlove. It was a story of pure tragedy. A story of a woman who was treated horribly by life and the man she deemed to love. A story of sacrifice. And Sienna was that sacrifice.

"How did..." stop talking and hug her. Stop talking.

"My mom's family immigrated to the US when she was a baby. They moved back to China when she was older, but she decided to stay for college. That was where she met my dad. They had your typical college romance, got married in their Senior Year and then saved up to travel the world. Their last stop was South American, mainly Brazil. My mom told me that they went to the orphanage to donate some toys and then saw me. She told me that from the moment they saw me, they knew that I... that I belonged with them." Her eyes glossed over as she chuckled lightly but all I wanted to do was hold her. I had never wanted to hold someone so bad in my life, it physically hurt.

"They ended up adopting me and taking me with them to America." She finished. She looked down at her shoes and I noticed her wipe her cheeks. She was trying not to cry and I hated the fact she felt like she had to be strong with this. Sienna was strong as it was, stubborn even, but it felt as if she was trying to be okay when all that she wanted was to crumble. I wanted to her crumble, I wanted her to cry – fuck, I wanted her to scream. Scream at all the hurt and hate she had behind her. I wanted her to crumble because, selfishly, I wanted to pick up the pieces. I wanted to care for her. I wanted to be there for her like she was for me.

"I don't have anything of her left." She whispered quietly in the smallest voice I'd ever heard. She then walked towards her vanity and pulled out a drawer. Rummaging through it, she found a letter and held it up. "All but this." She then glanced down at it. "It's a letter she wrote to me when she gave me up, but it's written in Portuguese because she probably thought I would stay in Brazil. I... I tried to Google Translate it but none of it made sense and I can't afford a professional translator because for some reason they're stupidly expensive. The only thing I can make out is 'borboleta' which is something she used to call me. It means –"

"Butterfly." I subconsciously said. She looked up at me in surprise.

"You speak Portuguese?" the sliver of hope in her voice made my heart break in two.

"I speak Spanish." I spoke multiple languages. My favourite ones were French and Mandarin, but I could speak much more. It was easy for a Portuguese speaker to understand Spanish but not so much the other way around. I only knew a little Portuguese.

"Does that mean you can...?" There it was again. Hope. Pure hope.

"I only speak a little." I confessed and I watched the hope drain from her face. No. "But I can try." I hastily confessed. Show that hope, Sienna. Show it because I want to try and make it better.

"Really?"

"Really." Even if I couldn't, I'd learn to.

"Thank... Thank you." Her

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net