She begins adjusting the little beret hat on her head and checking her makeup in the hallway mirror.
“All I’m wondering is, did you tell him that I already had lamb marinated and ready to be eaten?” I grip the ties on the back of my apron. Arms crossed painfully hard behind my back, it keeps the anger from boiling over.
Mom turns to look at me. She drops her shoulders slightly and raises her chin. “Leticia, your father wants a calzone. I know for a fact you know how to make one.”
The conversation is over, and she turns to the elevator. Her chauffeur stands in the lift, holding the door open for her.
It’s been four days since what I finally learned was an apparent attempt to kidnap me at the university. But you’d never know I was a near victim of the Mafia life because my life is as it always is: cooking, cleaning, and ridiculous last-minute requests to appease the patriarchy. I may get called ‘princess,’ but it’s been made abundantly clear that I need to be able to ‘manage’ a house to impress whoever I’m married off to. But since Mom manages our house, I’ve been relegated to the menial tasks with the ‘learn by doing’ method.
“Yes, Mamma.” I drop my arms, bringing them in front of me as I spin to go.
One time, she saw the angry marks I’d made on my skin before it had lightened, and she scolded me for making myself ‘look ugly like that.’ Now, I do better to hide them and pray for patience when dealing with her and Dad.
My phone is right where I left it in the kitchen, but now it’s blinking. I tap the screen, and the notification shows a preview of the message.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
Hey, it’s Toni. Are you still alive?
My mouth goes dry,and I look away from the screen only to make sure I grab my drinking-water cup and not my dough-water cup from where I’d been letting the filtered water come to room temperature.
My thirst is quenched by the time the next message arrives. It’s an image, and the warning on my phone pops up — ‘Do you know this person’ and ‘Possible sensitive content’ — but I click through it anyway.
Please be her, please be her.
The photo is of a hand creating a half-heart shape. The nails, manicured but short, a small speckling of flour. I’d know that hand anywhere.
I take a picture of my opposite hand so that they’ll kinda sorta match up in the texting feed to make the heart image.
Leticia:
OH MY GAWD. YOU’RESTILL ALIVE?!
I knowI’m being melodramatic with that one, so I follow it up with something a bit less dramatic but still conveying my heart.
Leticia:
I miss you so much. Ugh. It’s been so weird without hearing from you.
Tell me what you can without getting killed.
I love you so much.
I instantly saveher number into my phone and add it to the favorites. I should have known she’d get a new number. I feel silly now for sending all those texts that probably went nowhere. There have been days of random jabberings that are out there in the ether for someone else to come across.
Sadly, I can’t stand and stare at my phone until I get a little more work underway. I have a whole calzone to just ‘whip up’ for Dad’s lunch, because of course I do. But I leave the screen up where I can see everything.
Toni:
It’s weirdly nice. Don’t get me wrong, it’s only been a little bit, but I’m not sure this was the worst decision I’ve ever made.
Leticia:
That’s great! I miss you so much. It’s been so weird not having anyone to talk to. Sarena is moving on with her life and now you’re... well I will SPARE you some of the words Dad has called you. My finals are soon.
Now Mom isn’t pleased with the housekeeping staff. ALLEGEDLY they have something to do with the security system acting funny? Now she’s breathing down my neck all the time.
It’s like I’m being punished. Cleaning AND cooking all the meals. Luckily next semester my classes are heavier so she will HAVE to accept hired help.
