She nodded, “Throw that fucker off the balcony. You owe it to yourself to never step on a scale again.”
I smiled big at her. The morning ritual with Cleo at Kruna included weighing us as well as inspecting for adequate grooming and hygiene.
“I, unfortunately, have an OB/GYN who wants me on the scale at every appointment.”
“At least you’ll get something awesome out of the deal at the end,” I said.
She put her hand to her belly and she beamed with joy, “Yeah.”
We walked to the island and unpacked the food.
We ate quietly but there wasn’t any real awkwardness. Afterwards, she said, “I am here if you ever want to talk. I don’t know if I’d have any real words of wisdom for you but if you have questions or want to talk about anything, I’m here. I was there nearly six years and I’ve been out over two so if I can help, let me know. Even if you just wanna talk, vent, whatever.”
“Same,” I said.
She broke into tears.
I panicked a little and then rounded the island to go to her and put my arm around her and she put her head on my shoulder and started sobbing.
“I’m su-supposed to be here h-helping you,” she sniffled.
I patted her back gently, not sure how to reply.
“I’ve had a really good life since getting out. Tom was amazing to me. I loved my life with him so much. I’m so glad that I get to have a piece of him, you know? This baby? I can’t wait to be a mother and have someone to really love. And it’s so hard because I miss him and what we had but no one wants to talk about him because of some of the things he did but I was his and he treated me like gold.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said.
“And I get to have his baby and I get to stay here. Dario and Tommy are making it so that I don’t have to go back and now I have you, you’ll be like a sister of the heart, someone who knows my secrets. Secrets I haven’t been able to tell my best friends, Tess and Luc, because of what it’d make them think of their father.” She was crying harder, “Fucking pregnancy hormones,” she said while wiping her eyes with her napkin.
“It’s okay.”
“I’ve been holding it all in. Tom and I never talked after the wedding about Kruna.” She whispered the word Kruna like it was a dirty word.
“He told me on our wedding night that it ceased to exist for me. And that was an order. He wanted to pretend it didn’t exist so that I could be healthy, move on, you know? I got to bury it and pretend the cover story was the actual truth. But now meeting you and knowing Dare and Tommy know,” she sniffled. I passed her another napkin from the napkin holder on the counter.
“Thanks,” she said, “It’s so hard. Part of me wants to keep it buried and another part is so glad that I have people in my life who know the truth, who know who I really am. My name isn’t Monalisa. My name is Shayla. I’ve said that name twice in five years, you know? Only twice. But that’s who I am. I should be Shayla Ferrano, not Lisa Ferrano. My mother is dead. My father is dead. My husband is dead. But I have this family here and half of them don’t know who I really am.”
I nodded.
“What’s your real name?”
I shook my head, “I can’t.”
“You’re not ready.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. They said if I ever uttered that name again…”
I let that hang, unable to finish that sentence.
“I know,” she said and was quiet for a minute, “When I told Dare my name the day he confronted me to tell me he knew the truth I felt my whole body shiver. Like they could hear me say it and would swoop in any second and take me back.”
I shuddered.
“Want to tell me your story?” she asked.
“No.”
“It’s okay. Do you want to know mine?”