The Things You Make Me Feel Ch. 02

It was a beautiful Sunday morning, and Michela and her father were spending time outdoors with her grandparents. They took a drive through the winding countryside roads before stopping for lunch in a pastoral restaurant that provided an incredible scenery of flourishing green fields flanked by commanding mountains.

Michela was in the best of moods, and last night's painful event that had resonated so deeply in everyone's psyche was reduced to nothing but an illusion of the mind seemingly. She managed to develop an impressive appetite by the time they were dinning, and her plate of grilled fish fillet and golden crisp potatoes was spic and span in no time at all.

Dan smiled as he mussed her hair up. "Are you enjoying this day, sweetheart?"

"Sì, Nonno Dan. I'm enjoying it very much."

She smiled her captivating smile and sipped her freshly-squeezed orange juice from her straw. She briskly reached bottom, yet she was resolved to slurp on, unwilling to accept that the full contents of the juice was long transported into her belly.

Dan chuckled and kissed her lovingly.

"Papà, non ti scordare quello che mi ha promesso," (Daddy, don't forget what you promised me).

Oliver was still hard at work on his sea bass. "Inglese," (English).

"Scusi," (Sorry). "Don't forget what you promised me."

"Promised you what, piccola?"

"You promised me gelato e una bambola."

"Inglese."

"Scusi. You promised me ice cream and a doll."

Alice and Dan laughed at the sight of their granddaughter mixing up the two languages. They were just so relieved to see her this happy.

"Did I?" Oliver dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and sipped his gewürztraminer. "I don't remember promising any of that sort."

"Si che lo hai fatto! Me l'hai promesso ieri sera, Papà!" (Yes, you did! You promised me last night, Daddy!).

"Inglese."

"Scusi!" Michela snarled angrily. "You promised it last night before I forgave you for being a bad daddy."

Oliver's chest clenched when he recalled her emotional state on account of his night out. "Oh, yeah, I remember now. Gelato e una bambola it is."

"Yay!" She kissed his lips. "Grazie, Papà! Ti voglio così tanto bene che potrei abbracciarti per sempre!" (Thank you, Daddy. I love you so much that I could hug you forever!).

Oliver laughed and pulled her into his lap. "Te ne voglio ancora di più, tesoro mio," (I love you even more, sweetheart).

While they hugged and kissed, Alice fetched her phone and took a few pictures of them at this blissful moment. She wanted as many pictures of Michela as possible with all their family. She and Dan had been incessantly taking pictures of her since the moment they'd learned they were grandparents.

She browsed through the pictures of Michela and her son she had just taken and grinned when finding the perfect one for the family wall they had in the living room. It was a picture of them smiling while locking eyes as well as foreheads. Looking at the picture, Alice held her heart and staved her tears off as she could easily feel the immense love they shared; a love between a parent and a child that is so pure and absolute.

She then looked away from the picture and gazed at her son, who was whispering his everlasting love to her grandchild. Her frame of mind was very different now. She was furious with him. She was enraged beyond belief. She honestly didn't know if she could ever forgive him for keeping Michela from them for more than four years.

"Mom, have you heard from Ellie today?"

"What?" she said, regaining awareness.

Oliver couldn't stop thinking about his sister and about that crazy night they'd had. He was still quite confused and conflicted, but the more he mused over it the more he feared that the extent of his emotions for Ellie had long progressed beyond anything that could be perceived as acceptable. He had deep romantic feelings for her that he could not deny. He'd tried refuting them for the better part of last night but was unsuccessful time and again.

He wasn't sure where they stemmed from. His sister had always been a hot little nubile, but he had never lusted after her. At least he hadn't until very recently. What he did know was that last night had triggered in him a burst of lust and romantic affection towards her. Whether it had always been there, dormant and disarmed, he couldn't answer. This was confusing and troubling. He wanted to discuss it with her but couldn't get hold of her since she'd run off into the night, and he was beginning to worry. To his relief, Michela was keeping him occupied, so he couldn't dwell on it.

"Ellie? Have you heard from her?"

"No," Alice replied, shaking off her anger towards him. "I think her battery's dead. I can't reach her, either."

"Oh. Well, have you tried calling her boyfriend?"

"Fiancé," she clarified. "And no, it didn't cross my mind. I'll call Jason now."

Oliver's misuse of Jason's status in Ellie's life was a subconscious choice he'd made sometime late last night; however, it was now brought into his consciousness while he was ruminating over the reason for Jason's diminished stature in his mind.

"Just as I thought," Alice said. "She forgot to charge her phone."

Oliver stifled a grin. He was worried his sister might be avoiding him. "Where is she now?"

"Out with Jason."

"Do you think she might um... drop by today?"

"I hope so, but I wouldn't count on it. She is rarely seen on Sundays. She normally makes plans with her friends."

Dan paid the check and pocketed his wallet. "Where do you want to go next, Michela?"

*

"I'm really not comfortable with lying to your mom."

"You'll get over it, I'm sure."

Jason stood next to their bed and examined Ellie worriedly while she was covered from head to toe in the blanket.

"Are you planning on getting out of bed sometime today?"

"No."

He sighed. "Okay, how about talking about it? Are you up for that?"

"No."

"So we're not going to talk about the weird sex, or why you cried in the shower for two hours, nor are we going to talk about you displaying clear symptoms of trauma."

"You got it."

"You're forcing me to call Kara."

"You're not calling anyone. Do you get me, Jason? Now leave me alone."

"No, I won't leave you alone. I'm your fiancé in case you forgot, and I'm entitled—"

"And if you want to stay my fiancé, you will leave me the fuck alone."

Jason shook his head as he sat on the bed next to her. He stroked her for a spell, hating this feeling of impotence. "Babe, I'm really worried about you. Talk to me. Whatever it is, I won't judge. You know me."

Ellie was beginning to comprehend that as much as she would have loved to be left in solitude, she was only fueling her fiancé's suspicions, and in light of her latest realization, that was the last thing she needed.

"It's nothing really," she said kindly, putting her hand on his and petting him back. "I just feel that recent events have taken a toll on me, and I just wanted some peace and quiet, but I'll get up now, and we'll go do something. Okay, babe?"

"Yeah, sure," Jason said eagerly, satisfied with her explanation and relieved to see her coming back to the living. "Do you want us to go pay your brother and niece a visit?"

***

Almost a week later, and Jason had yet to meet Oliver and Michela since Ellie had refrained from her parents' throughout the week. She hadn't taken any of Oliver's calls, either. She knew he had a curfew since Michela would never permit him to leave her at night, and she was confident he wouldn't surprise her at work; thus, she was able to gather momentum as she sought to bounce back from that cursed night.

In fact, she was feeling better with each passing day, and by the time it was Friday again, she was certain she'd left that horrible ordeal miles behind her. She was back to her old gleeful and vibrant self, and her relationship with Jason had regained its comforting stability. She never felt more in love with him than she'd been these last couple of days.

Although it troubled her that she hadn't spent any time with her niece while her twin was visiting her every day after work, she was fully planning to redeem herself. Ellie had purchased her earlier today an impressive dollhouse that her mother had mentioned it to be something she was nagging Oliver to buy her all week long.

She opened the front door and entered her parents' home. She heard the commotion out in the patio and stepped outside to see her folks and Michela enjoying themselves in the pool. Dave was lounging on the sofa reading a book, and Oliver was nowhere to be found, which she was quite happy about. She announced her arrival and was pleasantly surprised when Michela ran to embrace her, genuinely seemed to miss her, which Ellie could easily feel in her warm hug.

She presented her niece the dollhouse and was thrilled to see her jumping up and down in incredible excitement and joy that only children are able to produce. She received a barrage of kisses and "Grazie, Zia Ellie!" from Michela, who couldn't believe that her aunt gifted her the very same dollhouse her father wouldn't. While Michela was hard at work at piecing the dollhouse from the ground up along with her grandfather, Ellie sat with her mother and Dave, catching up while having a cool glass of chardonnay.

"She really seems to be adjusting great here," Ellie stated, smiling at her busy-as-a-beaver niece. "Have you taken her to that specialist yet?"

"Mhmm," Alice hummed affirmatively while sipping her wine. "Yesterday. She backed up that specialist from Italy and insisted it was indeed a phase. The absence of her mother is definitely playing a role in all of this, but she also said she was attached to Oliver in an unusual bond. She recommended him to give her more time and to start out with short departures. You know, an hour or so and then to increase it gradually, see how she responds and adjust accordingly."

"I see. Well, at least she doesn't seem to fear him leaving her at daytime."

"Yeah," Alice giggled. "I'm sure she'll get past—no, Dan! You're holding it wrong. Flip it over... not to that side... yes... no! Do you really not understand?!"

Alice rose with a sigh and left to better instruct her husband on how to assemble a pink dollhouse as he seemed to be lacking the required aptitude.

Ellie snuck a peek at Dave, uneasy and nervous, fearing he might have sighted her as she was getting ready to shag their baby brother right there on the very sofa he was so lazily sprawling on.

"So, what's going on with you?" she casually asked and searched closely for irregularities in his conduct.

"Fine," he replied inattentively and turned over a page in his book.

"Great." She drank some more. "What you're reading?"

He cut his eyes at her, annoyed. "Do you really care?"

"Guess not," she mumbled, content with the mundane and routine way their conversation was going. "So uh"—she pretended to look into her phone and finished her glass—"where's Oliver?"

"Out with some chick," he replied dully with his gaze fixed on his book.

"What? What chick?"

Ellie was disappointed and quite dismayed by how swiftly she turned her head when she'd asked that. She was even more upset with her question, which she'd blurted out without thinking, though now that it was out there, she realized she detested the thought of her baby bro seeing another woman, which was rapidly shaking the belief she'd been having in this allegedly-therapeutic week.

"Some chick," he answered while turning over another page. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason; just curious."

"Kay..."

"Is she um... pretty?" she asked two minutes later as an afterthought while compulsively fiddling with her long nails.

Ellie loathed herself. Every second that she remained unfamiliar with every single detail of who Oliver was with, when and where they'd met, and of their precise whereabouts down to one-meter radius of accuracy, was killing her.

"Yeah."

Although Dave couldn't have sighed this single-syllable word with greater lack of enthusiasm or interest, it burned Ellie from the inside as if he had said it with an evil grin and gloating eyes while wringing his hands together as a ball of fire burst in the background.

"Great for him. I'm really... happy for him."

"Yeah," he sighed in his repetitive, flat intonation, the same manner in which he'd answered all of her questions.

Ellie's conviction was beginning to crumble like a house of cards. She'd been positive she carried no real feelings for her brother, but that pedestrian conversation she was having with Dave was crushing her spirit and immersing her in the exact same melancholy that had taken her down last Sunday. She could feel the energies she was fully charged with only minutes ago seeping from her and leaving her hollow and bare.

"Do um"—she swallowed—"do you think she knows"—she cleared her throat after gulping down the wrong pipe—"about Michela?"

Ellie was praying that the woman Oliver was seeing was unaware of Michela, and hopefully, just like with that Latina bimbo, Rita, it would blow up in his face.

"Yeah."

"Yeah as in you think she knows? Or yeah as in you know she knows?"

"Yeah," he sighed, turning over a third page in his book, "as in the latter."

Ellie teared up and nodded away from him, feeling a tornado ripping across her chest. Last Sunday was now looking like a picnic in comparison to what she was starting to develop.

"That's... really great—I mean... so great."

After hearing herself, she quickly stabled back her vocal cords with another clear of her throat.

"Where is she?" Oliver whispered to Dave as he slowly crept out to the patio, unaware of his sister's presence.

Ellie instantly tensed up as she prepared herself for the confrontation.

"There." Dave pointed, unwilling to look away from his book. "The girl with the giant pink dollhouse and her two bickering grandparents."

"What?! That's just... unbelievable," Oliver sighed. He looked over his shoulder. "You won't believe it, but someone's already bought her the dollhouse."

"No!" some chick sighed. "I bet it was your dad. He's weak, just like you. Oh well, we'll take it back tomorrow or something."

Ellie thought she recognized that voice, and a moment later, Oliver revealed himself in the patio followed by... Gena?

Ellie realized she'd been had and shot Dave a murderous look. He didn't even bother to look away from his beloved book, but a vicious smirk curled his lips, as if he'd felt his sister's glower. Ellie's homicidal glare morphed almost seamlessly into an expression of horror as she surmised that Dave had indeed seen her and Oliver seconds from committing an unspeakable sin. Why else would he put her through such hell?

Oliver noted his sister a second later and came to a halt. He could feel the thumping in his chest and the sweat in his palms as they locked eyes. He'd been calling and texting her all week long without even so much as receiving an acknowledgement that she'd indeed noticed his efforts to communicate with her. And now she was here, sitting less than twenty feet away from him wearing an anxious expression.

"Ellie! Hey!" Gena kissed her. "I didn't know you would be here. You could have texted or something."

"She can't text," Oliver interposed sternly. "Her phone is dead; it has been all week."

"What?" Gena said, her brows knitted in confusion. "What are you talking about? I talked to her just yesterday." She looked back at Ellie. "Your phone isn't dead, is it?"

Ellie looked into Oliver's eyes, unable to control her pulsating heart. "No."

"I must have been calling and texting the wrong number all week then. Poor someone..." He chuckled, though not looking at all amused.

Gena glanced between the two and decided to keep quiet. She figured there was more than meets the eye in here.

"Papi, guarda!" (Daddy, look!). Michela excitedly gestured with both hands at her dollhouse—that was still in fairly early stages of construction.

He walked over to his daughter and observed his parents putting it together. "Meravigliosa. Chi te l'ha comprata, amore? (Lovely. Who got you that, baby?).

"Zia Ellie." Michela grinned at her aunt. "Isn't that the most beautiful dollhouse you've ever seen, Papi?"

"È magnifica."

"Inglese," Michela disapproved.

"Scusi." Oliver smiled apologetically. "It's magnificent."

"Ed è rosa!"

"Si, vita mia." He darted a glower at his sister. "It is quite pink."

*

Oliver went inside to fetch himself a drink. He opened the fridge and was—

"Looks like I'm not the only one who went shopping for a dollhouse today."

He swiveled around with a beer in his hand and shut the fridge door with a light kick. "You shouldn't have."

"It's nothing; I wanted to."

"No." He shot her a look. "You really shouldn't have."

Ellie glared back. "Well, it's not for you. It's for her, now isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I'm her father, and I don't want her to get used to getting presents all the time. It's just bad upbringing."

"Then what do you call this?" She motioned at the box with the identical dollhouse he'd purchased his daughter.

"That's different. I'm her father. It's a given that I'm gonna spoil her ass."

"So you don't want us buying her presents? Or you just don't want me buying her presents?"

He opened his beer and guzzled a quarter of it. "It would have counted for more if you'd shown your face around here this week."

"For whom? Her? Or... you?"

He paced to the kitchen island, snickering. He put down his beer and sighed. "You know, my daughter is quite the people person. If you took the time to sit with her, she would tell you these amazing stories from Italy. She would tell you about the friends that she won't see anymore. She would tell you how much she misses her family. She would tell you how lonely she feels sometimes here. She would pour her heart out. Then again, you can always show up once a week carrying a present. It's far less... time-consuming shall we call it?"

"How dare you," Ellie hissed, her eyes misting over. "Don't you think I wanted to come? To spend time with her? To get to know her?"

"Then why didn't you?"

"Why?" She let out a scornful chuckle and returned to scowl. "I hope you meant it as a rhetorical question."

He looked into her eyes for no more than three seconds. "Yeah, I did," he lied and seized his beer. "It was good seeing you, Ellie. Don't be bearing gifts next week."

He walked past her on his way to the patio.

"Oliver."

He pivoted to her, his face doing the talking.

"Come with me. We need some privacy."

*

Ellie shut his bedroom door and sighed. "I'm sorry I avoided you all week, but you have to understand that it was for the best."

"For the best?" He snorted. "I see."

"Oliver, this"—she pointed at him and then at her—"is crazy. It's beyond crazy. We were about to have..."

He gazed into her heart-stopping blue eyes. "Sex?"

She bit the tip of her tongue, clearly perturbed.

"Tell me, Ellie, just for the fun of it: Is this you getting back at me? Are you trying to hurt me for Michela?"

Her face screwed up at the accusation. "I hope you're jesting. Do you really think I would ever do something like that for a petty payback?"

"Then what's going on in here?"

"Oliver, I don't want to talk about it. We need to forget that it ever—"

"Forget?" He shrugged in perplexity. "Ellie, your tongue was halfway down my throat. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget that."

She shook her head as she wandered aimlessly in his room, slowly unraveling.

"We were kissing hard, Ellie. With my dick on your—"

"Please don't. I was there; I don't need you to..." She pulled her hair back, latching onto composure for dear life.