You understood this about me, even if you were never free.
Not from the truth. That is yours, and you claim it, just as your family has always claimed it, but from the shackles of loyalty. Even to me, your wanton wife, who did not want one man but an army, though if I am being truthful, which I always am, your body served mine as an army would. You met every need and desire I ever had and more.
You, Rocco Fausti, were a companion to me—you understood me, accepted me, when the world could not. You were the mighty olive tree in which my gilded cage was perched.
This speaks volumes about your power. It was greater than Marzio’s, Luca’s, and Brando Fausti’s combined. Your heart pulled you in one direction, and I (a connection to your family) pulled you in another. You defied your heart and went to loyalty.
I believe you always understood that I was not wired to love anyone but myself, even though I tried to convince myself a few times over the years that what was inside of me was enough for such a thing. This was not a lie. I tried. And what I found had frightened me. You were enough for me, but I would never be enough for you. I was not deep enough. The spinning top, the sister of your heart, and your brother always threw us in great contrast. It was that same contrast that you had craved over the years.
The spinning top and the beast were lace and leather.
We were steel and steel.
I did not understand this craving for something or someone weaker. Perhaps I never will. But that is neither here nor there at this point.
I am dead, and what happens in your life from this point forward is—your life to do what you wish with it. You have always been free to live, just as I have always been free. You did not trap me in your life, but extended an invitation for me to join you, under my own conditions and demands. You opened the door to a gilded cage and allowed it to stay open.
I will not say much about your sons. In all truth, we both knew I did not want children. So do not look at them with longing, or believe I live on through them. Perhaps my family lineage does, but not truly me. I was only the vessel that brought them into the world.
You were the only man who could have ever persuaded me to carry them. Except for the one time I did the unforgivable and spited you. We both know who I am speaking of. You stole his heart to spite me.
Point for you, Rocco Fausti.
The dead man I am referring to is Marzio’s father, and I know you know this as well, though you never brought it up when you realized this. At this point, our understanding was starting to thin, and loyalty to the family was our only connection. It was the beginning of my resentment toward them as well.
Over the years, you dreamed of leaving me, of claiming a connection like the one the spinning top and your brother shared, and I was going to try to leave once or twice, but we both know we would have pulled each other back. This is why you did not leave, even after the understanding between us had died. The loyalty we both felt toward the Fausti family was stronger than any love we could have created between us.
Perhaps this is why I resented you and your family in the end. Love is wont to do that—create feelings of hate inside of us when wedo not get what we crave from it. For me, this love was born from power. I am not ashamed of it.
Though I did want to mention this, I always wanted to mention this, but the love for myself always seemed to get in the way.
If there were ever a man I could have loved, it was you, Rocco Piero Fausti, which is why I recorded a song to be released only after my death. If you are still alive, you will listen to the lyrics, which you always do, and take them to heart.
My truth, as ever, is present and strong. So is my struggle between loving only myself and finding the space inside of me to open myself up to you.
And yes, my voice is haunting, as it should be. I am nothing if not dramatic, no?
Before I leave this world, I am freeing you, Rocco Fausti, and to honor me, you will do the same for me. In death shall we part. Neither of us signed up for eternity. I refuse to be trapped anywhere your memories of our time together might keep me, out of loyalty or spite. Know that when I go, I am not going to linger. It is not my style. To linger means to be weak. To be subtle. I rip. I slash. I kick. I explode. I take over the entire room.
You will go on and marry, and this time, allow your heart to decide, as I allowed my heart to rule me over the years.
It is the only true king and queen we have in this life, ah?
If I am allowed to make an appearance after my exit, a final bow, as you will, I will warn your new wife that, if she does not find a way to free you of me, I will haunther.That is a promise. She will have to move quickly, because if you get something stuck in your heart, you refuse to dislodge it.
Perhaps because all you have known over the years is loyalty to whomever has pledged loyalty to your family. I understand this.
As always, the love for myself reigns above all. This is why I have only been written in italics in the book of your life, Rocco Fausti. I have only been a memory. A ghost. Another way to imply quotations marks for something that is not entirely real, or something that is implied rather than stated.
Goodbye, Rocco Fausti, half man, half beast.
This is the final curtain drop for me. I can only hope my exit from this world was as dramatic as my entrance into it.
Mine alone—in life and in death,
Rosaria Caffi
The Songbird of Italy
