Anna dropped me off at my parents’ home in the early evening.
I bounded up the porch steps with Luna’s carrier in one hand and my new black purse in the crook of my elbow. I couldn’t wait to show it to Mamma. She was going to foam at the mouth when she saw the structured crocodile skin patterned beauty with pretty gold buckles.
It was a gift from Hunter. One I found this morning sitting on my coffee table with a sweet handwritten note.
Good morning, doll.
You mentioned needing a new purse and I snooped through the wish list on your laptop last week. I hope you like it.
—Your pretty boy
Suffice to say, I didn’t need a new purse, per se—I just wanted one—and as always, Hunter indulged me. I loved him. The note was now taped to my fridge with a heart-shaped magnet and I would cherish his gift forever.
Unlocking the front door, I entered my childhood home and called out, “Honeyyy, I’m home!”
Silence welcomed me.
I frowned as I toed off my red bottom pumps in the foyer and put on indoor kitten heels.
Opening Luna’s carrier so she could roam freely, I hollered again, “Mamma?”
No response.
Huh.
That was odd.
I headed over to the kitchen to unload a bottle of red wine and a chocolate box from an actual maître chocolatier’s shop for the special occasion.
I sent Mamma a text thirty minutes ago to let her know I’d be coming over earlier than anticipated. Mostly to ease my nerves and make sure everything was in order for tonight’s dinner. It wasn’t every day that your family met your boyfriend for the first time. This was a huge milestone.
I wanted Hunter to like my family. And more than anything, I wanted my family to love and accept him the way I had. I wasn’t worried about the women in my family. Out of sheer excitement, Mamma insisted on preparing a three-course meal, Nonna made her famous tiramisu, and Papà? He was bringing his judgemental self and a loaded gun like a typical mob man.
Luna followed me when I ascended the stairs to the second floor in search of her grandmother. Mamma’s car was in the driveway; therefore, she was home. Maybe she was busy getting ready and that’s why she wasn’t answering me. Regardless, I had every intention of barging into her room and smothering her with my affection. I hadn’t seen her in ten days and I missed her.
A prickling sensation ignited goosebumps on my skin in a foreboding manner as I padded down the hallway leading to her bedroom. My instinct told me something was awry, especially when my hand closed around her doorknob and I heard an odd, dissonantthump, thump, thumpsound.
With fear drumming in my chest, I shoved the door open.
And came face-to-face with every child’s worst nightmare.
At first, I was frozen at the threshold, unbelieving.
Two seconds later, I actually registered the horrendous sight.
Mamma.
Papà.
Moaning. Dirty-talking. Having sex under the covers.
I screamed, horrified.
Their heads whipped in my direction and they screamed too.
I screamed louder, with Luna joining the chorus.
“Cristo Santo!” I wailed and covered my eyes, whirling around. “What have I done in my life to deserve coming home to this blasphemy!”
