Setting Me On Fire

12

unescapable

My memory of my childhood was pretty hazy except for the fashion that was engraved into my mind. Everything else was only remembered because it was built around my fashion dreams. Like how I remembered my father arguing with my mother before we went to see a fashion show that she had been invited to see.

My brother once came back from soccer practice the night of the Milan Fashion Week Show, and he was telling me how his coach made him run ten laps because he came late. That it was my father's fault, and I could just remember nodding. The minutes after that were a blur.

So now as I walked into my living room, where Marco was sitting down with Yufei, it gave me Deja Vu. Somehow this reminded me of that night, Marco talking to me about soccer the same way he's talking to Yufei about it now, it all gives me a touch of nostalgia.

"Ciao, Margo," Marco says, I sit down on the leather couch. 

"I'm ready when you are." I glance over at Yufei he nods his head in a greeting, and I look back at my brother. 

"I'm waiting for my business partner, give him a minute." 

I cross my legs with a nod.

Some of the memories I recall were some of the ones I immersed myself into oblivion. I pushed them away, only I know of them because I was the only one who witnessed it, I was the victim, I experienced it. I hoped every day that it was an illusion, a fake, a made-up story. Some eventually left my brain, and some stayed, stored, and tortured me.

Some still do.

It's those memories I believe, but don't admit were the reason behind my lack of love. Behind my closed walls. Built around my desire to immerse myself in the fashion world, was the reason I wished to disappear from the face of the earth. It's why I was detached, peeling away into nothingness.

Those are the memories I'll never tell, but there's one, that sits on the core of all those other memories that hit me harder. 

Sitting there in my living room, in New York, I felt like I was strong. I've built my life around that memory, and I kept moving. Even if I carried a cynical mind, I keep moving despite if it was in slow motion.

The elevator dinged, reverberating through the room. Bringing me back to the present. "He's here," Marco says, his voice distant in my ear. I was fairly happy with my brother, I'm pleased we're back on the same train.

The footsteps were the only sound I concentrated on, I blinked and turned around just as Alexander comes into view. I should've known it was him. I stand up, and look at my brother, "Let's go into my office."

I don't wait for them and make my way to my home office. I sit behind my desk and cross my legs as they enter the room. Marcos holding a document folder, I hold out my hand. He gives it to me before he sits down. I flip it open and look at it.

I nod, "Okay, first, for you to make this work you have to put out a local ad," I say and close the document. I hand it back to him. "That is the first thing you need to do, that way with a team you can work as a team to come up with the money."

I hold up my hand as Marco starts to talk, "Yes, I'll help you, don't worry about that dear brother."

I glance over at Alexander. Our eyes met for the first time since he arrived. "How exactly are you contributing?"

"I gave him half of my bank savings."

I nod. "And how much was that?"

"Twenty thousand dollars."