Every sound was musical. One friend calling out to another, something in Italian that sounded heated but was actually friendly banter. Summer felt like a warm breeze in the evening against my skin. Every smell held the promise of some new food to try. Every sight was peaceful. People chatted and laughed in the piazza, eating gelato and enjoying life.
I had never felt so tired but so alive at the same time.
The flight from New York was long, and I’d barely slept during it, so I swayed on my feet, refusing to move. But I didn’t refuse to move because of the tiredness.
I pulled at the straps of my backpack. “You didn’t tell me I needed to dress for this.”
Capo gave me an impatient look. “What you have on is fine.”
I looked down at myself. A pretty blue sundress and a pair of leather sandals with crisscross straps. Seeing that I was having trouble knowing what to pack, Capo had helped me decide what to bring to Italy for our long stay. I loved everything in my suitcase, it seemed to fit the vibe here, but he didn’t tell me we’d be taking some kind of motorcycle to his grandfather’s place from the piazza.
“Why didn’t you ask the car to wait? That guy has my luggage. How am I going to ride onthatif I’m wearingthis? I can’t change now.”
A car that looked like it could survive a bombing had brought us here from the private airport, and the driver took all of my things with him after he dropped us off.
Capo lifted his glasses and then sat them on his head. The bright light hit his eyes, and the blue seemed to explode like stained glass when the sun hits it. He was wearing a tight shirt that showed off all of his impressive muscles, a dark pair of jeans, and leather boots. The tattoo on his wrist looked even fiercer when he wasn’t wearing a suit and his entire arm was on display. His old watch looked exactly like…an old watch. Even if it was an expensive one.
“Use all of the words, Mariposa. Are you afraid?”
“No, not exactly.” I hesitated but only for a second. “I don’t want to hurt my oonie.”
“Your bag? It’ll be fine.”
“Not my bag, Capo. Who names a bag? Myoonie.”
His eyes narrowed. “You name shit all of the time. Vera. Journey. I figured your bag had a name, too. So if it’s not your bag, what are you talking about? And why would it get hurt?”
I pointed down. “That’s my oonie.”
He followed my finger. “I’m not following.”
“My vagina,” I whispered.
His features relaxed, then went blank, before he exploded with laugher. “Oonie? Where did you hear that? Or is that something you named it?”
“No!” I was on the defensive. “Jocelyn. That’s what she called it! She told me to be careful on bicycles, since they could hurt my oonie. After what happened with…Zamboni, I don’t want to…maybe…mess up what still might be intact.”
Zamboni had used his fingers on me, so I wasn’t sure if he’d done anything to mess me up—my monthly came that night. If he hadn’t, it was important to share that part of me with someone I trusted. It would mean a lot to me to know that he hadn’t altered me physically. Because emotionally, he had caused some damage.
At the mention of Zamboni, all of the amusement faded from Capo’s face. I didn’t want to bring it up, but he had pushed, and I needed to be truthful about why I was hesitant to ride the bike.
Not wanting Zamboni to have the power to ruin our time—my first trip to Italy!;to anywhere—I decided to try and lighten the mood. I grinned. “Jocelyn used to watch me from the picture window when I was playing outside with the Ryans. Whenever I’d wear a dress, and she felt I was getting too ‘loose’ with it, she’d bang on the window and scream, ‘Mari! Keep your dress down, or the entire neighborhood is going to see your oonie!’ Then she’d bang some more. The entire neighborhood thought she was nuts.”
“She was, but she was a good person.”
“Jocelyn and Pops treated me like their own.”
“I knew they would. Jocelyn had always wanted children, and Mr. Gianelli loved them. I knew you’d be safe there.”
“Yeah.” I blew out a breath, fanning a few small tendrils of hair that had come loose from my waterfall braids. I mumbled something about how much I missed them in Italian.
Capo watched me for a moment. “I think the reason you remember so much Italian, recognizing the words, is because that’s all your parents spoke to you. When I brought you to Jocelyn, she only spoke to you in English. They didn’t want anyone to know that you spoke Italian.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but thinking about the parents I’d never known made my heart feel heavy.
Capo seemed to pick up on it. “We’re in Italy. Everything that belongs to New York stays in New York.” He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. “What do you say,mia moglie, are you ready to ride with me? I vow not to hurt your oonie.” His grin was wide. “It’s safe in my care. And neither will the entire neighborhood or village see it. Sit close to me so your dress doesn’t fan out. We both know how I feel about sharing what’s mine. I don’t.”
I laughed at how ridiculousooniesounded coming from his mouth. But he was right. Italy was too perfect to waste on things that couldn’t be changed. “You? Share?” I scoffed playfully. “Not in a million years.”
