Gianni
Asimpering sigh actually cast across my lips as I read Gianni’s most recent letter. It was difficult to believe that a whole six years had passed since I first worked up the courage to give Gianni the letter I’d written him and ten since I’d first come to live in the Cavetti household. My life changed drastically the day my mother was killed, not for that reason alone, but for the fact that Gianni first looked at me and decided my life was more important than his. Whether or not he saw it in those terms, I knew well the kind of trouble he would have gotten in if Angelo had found out he spared me. That could have been the time that Angelo’s torture crossed into the actual murder of his son.
Thank god that was a secret kept safely between the two of us.
“What are you smiling at over there?”
In a panic to tuck Gianni’s letter away, I ripped the edge of it clean off. Part of me wanted to lash out, but I had a cover to maintain. I quickly folded the letter and shoved it into my apron and turned to see one of the other housekeepers, Alegna, walking into the staff quarters. It was mid-afternoon, the little bit of time that house staff got to eat and break throughout the day, and it was also typically the time that I passed by Gianni’s room to drop or collect a letter. It wasn’t often that someone came all the way back to the sleeping quarters during break hours, so I was usually safe to read the letters and write back without getting caught.
“Alegna,” I said. “N-nothing. Just a letter from my dad. For my birthday.”
Alegna shoved some folded clothes into one of the cabinets lined along the walls and then turned to look at me with her hands on her hips. She was a taller woman with a thin waist but wide hips and bust. She had peach skin and long black hair that she almost always kept tied up in a bun. Her face was pretty enough, though it had been marred by more years than she had experienced. Working for the Cavettis was a good way to accelerate life. “That’s right. Itisyour eighteenth birthday, isn’t it?” She smiled. “You grew up as pretty as the evening sunset.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’ll be graduating soon too, right? It’s a big year for you all around,” Alegna said.
Even though the conditions in the Cavetti’s household were less than ideal, I was allowed to attend school with the teachers provided for Gianni’s younger siblings. Though I was always staunchly reminded never to address Romeo, Marcello, or the younger Cavetti siblings, Savio and Natalia, directly, and I didn’t get the same treatment they did, it was enough to apply for graduation.
There weren’t any other house staff as young as me, and those that were even comparable to me in age didn’t care about their education, but not long after I disclosed to Gianni in a letter early in our friendship that I missed school, I was suddenly granted the chance to attend school with the internal teaching staff. I doubted that Gianni was able to just go to his father and make a request on my behalf to attend school, the questions it would have raised would have been bad for both of us. I knew he had something to do with it though. Angelo simply didn’t care enough about his employees for it to have been him.
“I’m very excited,” I said. “I’ve worked so hard and it feels like it’s finally paying off.”
Alegna shook her head. “I’m not sure why you went to all the effort. From the boss down to the janitors, once you work for this family, you don’t get out but through death.”
“So I’ve been told,” I said, but then a smile rose to my face. “I’m okay with that though.”
For all the ruin the Cavetti patriarch had brought my family, the unexpected happened amid all the pain and hurt.
I fell in love.
Gianni Cavetti was an unexpectedly bright light in a sea of vast and endless darkness. When I felt my most lost and confused, penning a letter to him could take all the stress away, and getting a letter in return made me feel like I had a purpose in the world. Even if it was small, and simply someone to talk to in a family that rejected him, Gianni saw me and it felt like winning the lottery over and over. He said that no one knew him better than I did, and I took pride in that. I was the only one who knew how articulate he was. That he was a fan of old art. That he didn’t like spicy foods or hot beverages. Every new thing I got to know about Gianni only made me love him more.
The only problem was that there wasn’t a doubt in my mind Gianni did not see me the same way.
To him, I was the same little girl he’d saved in the dry-cleaning store that day. The emaciated housekeeper with unearned pride and bravery that helped treat his wounds when everyone was telling her not to. He wrote me letters to humor me—because he felt bad about what his father had done to my mother. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hope that maybe Gianni would start to see me asmorethan that, now that I was of age, but it wasn’t likely.
Still, even if my life was doomed to watching Gianni from a distance, only having the letters between us to sustain me, I would accept it.
“Well, congratulations regardless. You’ve done great things with your life, Philippa, and I’m convinced you’ll do more,” Alegna said. “Now come on, up with you. We got work to do.”
“I have five more minutes,” I complained.
A scoff cracked out of Alegna. “You and your five more minutes. Fine. Take your five minutes.” She walked back towards the door. “Don’t be late.”
“I won’t,” I called after her as she walked out.
Once she was gone, I quickly pulled Gianni’s letter from my apron and retrieved the box from under my bed where I kept every letter he’d ever written to me. I gingerly placed it in, being careful not to rip it any further, then I pulled out my paper and pens, and spent the rest of my time drafting a response to Gianni, one I would edit and rewrite a thousand times before taking my break time the next day to deliver it.
“Philippa, I need you to go upstairs and collect any dishes hanging around,” Alegna said to me the next morning after breakfast. “They didn’t eat at the dining room table this morning, so I’m sure there are a ton scattered everywhere.”
“Yes ma’am,” I said, excited for the opportunity to drop off my letter.
It was burning a hole in my apron, but I tried to remain even-toned as I grabbed a bucket from the kitchen and made my way up the back, servant’s stairs to the second floor. I kept my head low and only bowed greetings to the Cavettis and their higher-ups as I traveled throughout the room collecting any dishes and trash left behind, saving Gianni’s room for last.
I looked both directions up and down the hallway, and then I knocked lightly on Gianni’s door. “Signore,” I announced. “I am here to collect your dishes.”
“Come in,” Gianni called back.
