Protector by Tressa Messenger Page B

what to say.
    Shit , Ales, act fast, he scolds himself.
    “I’m sorry , I just don’t think anyone else can understand.  I figured you would.”
    Anna -Marie thinks about the past nine months.  She has felt so alone in her grief this whole time.  It would be wrong to make someone else feel like that when she could possibly help, right?
    Anna -Marie looks Alessandro over.  He seems innocent enough in his loose fitting, but not baggy, blue jeans topped with a black T-shirt and his long wavy black hair is slicked back into a low ponytail at the base of his neck.  His almond eyes flash and smile with sincerity. 
    “Sure, I would like that.”
    Anna-Marie turns her attention back to Dylan and gives his name a kiss before leaving with her new friend.  Alessandro is shocked by the gesture.
     
    “Do you drink coffee?”  Anna-Marie asks Alessandro as they enter the same coffee shop he followed her into the week before.
    “To be honest, I never really drank it before but it smells great.”
    Anna-Marie looks at him strangely, “Oh, I’m sorry, I figured everyone drinks coffee.  We can go somewhere else if you’d like.”  Anna-Marie pauses for a minute thinking about the first couple of months after Dylan died.  She turns to face him again with a serious expression.
    “I’ve tried hard not to turn to alcohol for my grieving.  I drank myself delirious in the beginning, but they are right when they say it makes your reality so much worse in the morning. I strongly advise you not to go in that direction.  Believe me, if you don’t want to kill yourself now , it will make it very appealing.”
    “No, this is fine.”  He scans the menu on the wall real quick, “I can get tea.”
    “Oh, well good.  They have great tea here.  I think I will, too.”
    Once they have their teas, they sit at a round table in the back of the room away from everyone else so they can speak in private.
    “So , Alessandro, how are you doing with your loss?” 
    “Good , I guess.  Like I said, I really don’t know what to feel.”
    “What was she like?” 
       He is normally quick on his feet but he knew he had to develop a story about this stranger, Catherine.  He has been working on his story for the past couple of days.  He knows she was a real girl who had died of cancer at a young age a few days ago, although, he didn’t know her personally.  He thinks back on this girl’s last few days of her sad lonely life.
     
    He stalked the hospital all week for the perfect candidate so he could lock in his story of grief.  He knew he could easily come up with the story, but he needed a body, plus the emotions had to come from somewhere deeper.  The only person he has ever loved and lost was his mother.  Her loss was taken very hard by all who knew and loved her, especially by him, so he used the emotions he felt from her and transformed them in his story about Catherine.
    The whole week he never saw one person visit this girl, other than doctors and nurses.  He overheard two nurses talking one day, they said she was a homeless drug addict who collapsed on the street.  That’s how she ended up there and dying from cancer without a soul in the world to care about her.  That’s when he knew she was the one.  He even paid for her burial. 
     
    He smiles and looks at Anna-Marie as memories of his mother flood his mind.  “Catherine was a beautiful woman.  Everyone loved her.”  Flashes of his mother begin to cut through him like a knife, slicing his heart wide open.
    Anna -Marie just sits quietly watching his raw pain, letting him know he can continue.  She is embarrassed to admit, even to herself, that all she can do is stare at this man, this stranger, even in his time of grief.  His vulnerability is making him even more attractive.  He has sharp features, but not so much so that he looks imposing.  His dark olive skin fits perfectly with his almost black wavy hair and big almond eyes. 
    She looks from his