“It is a sin to want you again,” he said in Italian, his voice nothing but a whisper. “And it is hell to be denied, but that’s the price I will pay for hurting you.”
He had hurt me, stretched me beyond limits, and for him, the soft caresses communicated his regret, and were also a punishment. Touch was all he could do.
This time, he broke first.
We had both broke in different ways.
Together, though, we were at the mercy of the higher power that created this thing between us, but somehow, our broken parts were whole.
* * *
Later on, I smelled something rancid in the air. Plastic or hair burning? Realizing that Brando wasn’t next to me, I sat up, almost panicked, but settled once I realized what was missing in the room.
All of Vincenzo’s clothes had been removed.
I didn’t even need to guess what Brando had done with them.
9
Scarlett
I woke up to small beats against my head and a lot of singing. Mia had wedged her way between us, and she was using me as a drum and her father as a landing place for her rump, which came up and down on his head, as she continued to sing her morning song.
“La la la la laaaaaa…”
“Good morning, my sweet baby,” I said, picking her up and smothering her with kisses.
She tucked her neck in, afraid that I’d eat her cheeks like her daddy, and giggled, her perfect nose scrunching up. Her hair was in wild abandon around her head, a magnet to static cling.
“Someone needs a clean diaper,” Brando muttered with his eyes closed and his face shoved into his pillow. “Pew.Mamma mia!”
“PEW!” Mia mimicked, giggling even harder, plopping up and down on his head in merriment. “Appa.”
He grabbed her from me, flying her above his head, smiling so wide at her that it almost made me cry. She stuck her fingers in her mouth, and then offered him some.
Pulling her to his chest, he accepted, letting her stick them in his mouth, making munching noises, and then he held her so close that she started to squirm while he kissed her some more.
Enough of the messing around, she wanted her morning milk. Brando jumped in the shower while I changed her diaper and then fed her. When he came out, he took her from me, going to make breakfast. I stood in the shower for so long that he came in and handed her over to wash off all she had eaten. Brando didn’t believe in bibs. After she was all clean, he took her from me again, combing and blow drying her hair, then dressing her for the day.
After every single ounce of hot water had drained from the pipes, I gingerly stepped out. The night had hit me all at once. Even the warm water was no balm to the bite in the air and the soreness of muscles and everything else.
A fluffy robe hang on a peg, so I sunk into its warmth, about to get ready for the day, but the door to the bathroom had been left cracked, Brando’s way of keeping an eye on me, and I could hear singing.
Tiptoeing along the floor, I stood by the door, peeking out.
Brando had Mia on the bed, sitting in front of him. He had brought a television in and was playing some cartoon teaching the Italian alphabet song. They were both singing along to it.
“A, Bi, Ci, Di, E, Effe, Gi.La, la, la, la, la. Acca, I, Elle, Emme, Enne, o, Pi, Cu…”
The train continued its journey, singing as it went. Mia rocked back and forth, mimicking the sounds, singing along with herPapà, paying no mind to him but the hypnotizing scene on the TV.
The man behind was hypnotized byher.
He kept stroking her hair, watching her as though she were the miracle of his life. His eyes brimmed with tears, but he wouldn’t let her see. He kept wiping them on his sleeve.
I had never thought it would be possible, but watching them together made me fall deeper in love with them and life. Each time I did, it gouged something deeper and irrevocable on my soul.
On the other side of the moment, I hated what Ettore and Vincenzo had done to him—to us.
