"Yes, but I saved you the bother."
She grinds her teeth, sending a shudder down my spine. I hate that noise.
"I wanted to do it myself."
"Why? The outcome is the same whether you take care of it or I do."
"The outcome is not the same. I don't get the satisfaction of going in there with the money I saved and signing up without throwing the Volante name about."
"Oh? You were going to use some different name? Perhaps you'd like to pretend you're still a Caruso."
The possibility of that being true hits me harder than I expected. I thought we were settling nicely into married life but Violetta might not feel the same.
"No," she denies.
"Then I don't see the problem."
"The problem, Damiano." She speaks as if I'm a child, incapable of understanding. "Is that you had no right."
"No right? I'm your husband."
"Yes, my husband. Not my keeper. Not my boss. My husband. My supposed partner." She shakes her head. "Sometimes I'm not sure you know the difference."
"Of course I know the difference. As your husband I'll tolerate you speaking to me this way when you're obviously upset. As your boss I'd spank your ass."
My wife's jaw drops. "Oh, you would? Do you spank all female employees who challenge you?"
"Of course not. Don't be stupid."
I regret my choice of words the moment they leave my mouth. I should have known Violetta would latch onto them.
"Stupid? Is that what you think I am? Did you think I was too stupid to enroll myself at university?"
"Of course not."
I pause to consider everything she's said and finally realize what the real problem is. It's about autonomy. As my wife, there are few decisions she can make without deferring to me. It's for her own safety but I know she hates it.
Making decisions for the people I care about has become so ingrained in me I don’t even think before I do it anymore. If I want Violetta to be happy, I have to learn to pull back.
"You're right about the university. I should have asked you before acting."
For a minute she says nothing, thrown off balance by what she probably sees as a rare moment of self-reflection from me. What she doesn't realize is I've been thinking more about what I do and how it impacts others from the moment I first had her brought to my home.
"Yes you should," she says eventually. "Overbearing asshole."
A smile curves her lips as she tears a piece off her pastry and throws it at me.
"Oh, I'm an overbearing asshole, am I?"
"Yes you are."
She sends me a smug look. I see her game now. She's built up anger and now that it's been deflated she needs somewhere to channel her energy. Fortunately I have ways to help her release the pressure. Pushing my chair back from the table, I pat my lap.
"Come here,volpina."
My wife looks anxiously over her shoulder.
"We're in the dining room, Damiano."
