92. Being Addictive

[LIZZY]

“This is nice,” I say as Tony and I sit outside one of the street cafes near the stream after a very silent and awkward dinner.

I have no idea what I was thinking when I agreed to come with him. Maybe I assumed he would want to talk about things that he should have a long time ago—all those days he remained absent in our lives—that he would like to give an explanation for it. That he would finally reveal the big reason for him to walk away from our lives the way he did. That I would truly know, for the first time, what drove him away and turned him so cold and crude towards me when I came to see him all the way from Venice to the US.

Too bad, I have got nothing so far.

During the entire dinner, all we talked about was food, Joey, and his weird obsession with fire. And now that the dinner is finished, and he has run out of all the random conversation starters, we find ourselves back to quietly sweeping our gazes around.

I take another long and loud sip of my coffee, wondering w