twisted » á. morata & p. dybala

catorce // change of plans

I tapped my foot impatiently by the door. I whipped my phone out of my pocket and was about to call him to ask him where he was when there was a loud knock on the door. I immediately opened it and saw Álvaro standing there wearing a nice jumper with his hands in his jeans pockets.

"Come on, change of plans," I pushed him back to his car instead of letting him in.

"Are you kidding me? I drove all the way over here only to be shooed away?" He asked, his eyes wide in annoyance.

"No, just shut up. We're going somewhere," I closed the door behind me and got into his car.

"Where are we going?" He asked, starting the car while his tone was still very bitter.

"Just drive, I'll tell you the way as we go," I pointed at the road ahead of us lazily.

"What are we doing? I thought you wanted to talk about something. I mean, I barely agreed to talk," he said, keeping his eyes on the road as we drove away from my house. 

"I'm going to show you something. Keep in mind that I"m only going to show you this because you already know things about me that you're not supposed to, so might as well talk to you about this," I felt my heart beginning to swell at the thought of what I was about to show him.

"About what, exactly?" He finally turned his head towards me, but I kept my eyes on the road, not wanting to look at him at the moment.

"You'll see," I said one last time before silence filled the air around us. The only sound echoing occasionally is my voice telling Álvaro which way to go. To my surprise, he stayed silent and obeyed me. I guess he really has changed, I thought.

Soon we arrived in a much quieter neighbourhood and there were lots of houses decorating the street left and right. The trees lining the sides of the street created silhouettes of light upon us.

I told Álvaro to stop right in front of a minimalist white house. The house wasn't small for only two people living inside it. It arched in the midst of all the other houses, its exterior entirely white. There were no picket fences nor a little dog running around the yard. In fact, the house was eerily quiet despite the bright colour of it.

"What are we doing here?" Álvaro—who drove us all the way there without complaining—finally asked.

"I want you to see someone. It's complicated, but you can ask questions later," I led him through the driveway and into the house, for I had the key to the front door. He followed me closely and silently step after step until we reached the living room, where a short middle-aged woman approached us heartily.

"Oh, Isabella! It's about time you came back to visit," she said while pulling me into a hug.

"Hi, Renata. This is my friend Álvaro," I introduced her to Álvaro, who had been lingering awkwardly behind my back the whole time.

"Hello sir, pleasure to meet you," she dipped her head as a show of respect.

"Hello," Álvaro offered her a small smile back, but there was still an undeniable confusion painted on his face.

"How is she?" I asked Renata as all three of us walked to a bedroom nearby, Álvaro following us because he had no choice.

"Not too good. You heard the news from the doctor this morning, didn't you?" She answered with a hollow expression on her face. I didn't say anything anymore as Renata opened the door to the bedroom, revealing a week woman on a hospital bed, surrounded with even more machines than the last time I'd seen her.

I walked closer towards her, and I could tell that Álvaro decided to linger by the doorframe instead of following me inside because I could no longer hear his breathing following closely behind me.

I sat myself on the chair next to her bed and moved both of my hands to hold her fragile right one, but she was unconscious.

"Ma, I'm sorry," I said quietly, my voice breaking and was so little that even my own ears could barely hear what I had said.

I felt my insides eating me up and like something was nagging at my heart, and I couldn't handle seeing my mother like that anymore. She was weaker and sicker than ever.

I shot up from my seat and bustled past the door, past Álvaro who was leaning on the doorframe. I couldn't quite make out his expression because my vision was very blurry due to the tears welling up in my eyes. I kept walking until I passed the front door, then I sat on the stairs in front of the porch with my elbows on my thighs and my head resting on my hands.

Before I could've thought properly, the front door behind me opened again, and I looked up to see Álvaro approaching me carefully like he could easily spook me if he made the wrong move. He then sat himself on the stairs right beside me.

"That was my mother," I started explaining to him, my voice more normal than I thought it would've been. "She has stage four leukemia and her doctor called me again this morning. He said it's getting worse and she has less time than we expected," I tried very hard to not break down crying again, but my best wasn't really enough.

"I'm really sorry," he said softly, trying to soothe me.

"I was only going to talk to you about something completely different at my house, but this morning I got the call from her doctor and I just dragged you here without thinking straight," I continued, and I never forgot what I was going to talk to him about in the first place. It laid there, at the bottom of my heart. 

"It's okay," he seemed to want to talk more, but he didn't say anything for a long time. "Why are you telling me this?" He finally asked.

"Because you're the only person I can talk to, since you already know all my dirty secrets anyway. I don't want to discourage Valerie and let her see me like this, so I refuse to talk to her," I explained further, not particularly lying.

"But we both know that's not the whole truth, is it?" He asked, staring at the ground, and then finally looking up to stare straight into my eyes.

It was as if he'd read my mind.

I moved my face closer towards his, and my heart raced in a great pace. I didn't know what I was doing, and it was as if I didn't even have any control over my movements. My heart kept pounding in my chest, and my mind and heart kept racing with different emotions, but none of them was about my current boyfriend.

My lips touched his, and the moment they did, my stomach whirled like a hurricane was dancing inside of it. I was weak, and he was weak. I'd betrayed my boyfriend and him his best friend.

I felt bad, yes I did. But never did I feel a single speck of regret.