I’m in that room now, sitting on the plush beige sofa, that’s big enough to sit a whole family, leaning against the pale gold, white, pink, and light blue cushions.There’s a big balcony here with a view of the ocean here too.A liquor cabinet is hidden inside one of the built-in cupboards, but there are only a bunch of pretty crystal glasses and no actual liquor inside it.
A very good thing.Because I’d probably have drank all of it by now and I’m not sure I should drink anymore.I don’t need it, and I want to stay sober.Maybe for the first time since I discovered that wonderfully soft buzz and relaxation vodka gives.
My period is late.I haven’t had it since before everything happened.Since before I gave myself to Matteo for the first time.It could just be from stress, but I’m starting to think that maybe it’s not.I didn’t even notice it was late until the day he took me shopping and I realized I hadn’t needed pads or tampons for a while.I got a stash of both, just in case.
If I am pregnant then this truly is the beginning of the rest of my life.And even if I’m wrong, and my period will come any day now, I have to know if I really want this new life.So I can’t just drown out my feelings in alcohol.I’m having a hard enough time figuring out what those actually are without being drunk on top of it.
I’ve been coming to this TV room a lot since I discovered it.Trying to find a reason not to pop a DVD in and lose the day watching my favorite movies.There are many reasons.And chief among them is that the second I put in the first DVD, then I have decided that this is my home now.That I am comfortable here.That I choose this.
And I can’t in good conscience do that.Especially not with Chiara’s angry words of rebellion, disobedience, and revenge playing in my mind all the time.She still talks about that each time we speak.
There’s also a very deep veil of sadness hanging over this house.Or more like a good foot of snowfall made just of sadness.Except it’s invisible and the only thing covering everything here is dust.
Maria keeps apologizing for the dust and dirt, keeps telling me she will get the cleaners in to put everything right soon.And I keep telling her it’s fine.Because it’s more fitting this way.Easier to keep myself removed from everything in this house when it’s so clearly a remnant of a time that no longer is, that never can be again, because all the people who lived here, who were a family here, are dead.Part of the dust that covers everything in here.Or not even that.
Except Matteo and his sister.
And he might soon be dead too.He might soon join the dust in this house.
Every time I get to that thought, I have to stop thinking.
I should be happy that he’ll probably die in this war of his.That’s what Chiara keeps telling me.That I’ll be free then.
But I’ve been thinking a lot about the conversation we had about freedom.And I now know I’ll never be free.Not of him.Not of the life we could’ve had.Even if he’s physically gone from my life or the world.
The phone I’m holding in my hand rings.It’s Chiara, she’s been able to call me for days now.Clearly her husband is increasing her freedoms.But when I so much as vaguely suggested that’s a good sign, she blew up at me like in the good old days.A part of me doesn’t want to pick up.Because the good old days will never come again.Not the way she wants them to.And it’s hard knowing that while she won’t accept it in the slightest.But it’s harder for her.She’s married to a guy she hates.A guy who took everything away from her.
So I do pick up.
“I almost hung up,” she says by way of a greeting.“I thought maybe you were out, meeting that sister of his.”
The contempt in her voice cuts like a blade.
“No, not yet,” I say.“I think he’s avoiding going to see her.He still blames her for what happened to their family.Sort of.”
She scoffs.“Listen to you, feeling sorry for him.He’s holding you there against your will and you’re worried about his feelings.What happened to you?”
I sigh and walk to the balcony.The sight of the ocean could always calm me and it’s beautiful today, almost perfectly white.Like opal.
“I guess I’ve just always been a lot more compliant and complacent than you.”
“You can say that again.”
I feel no need to do that.Just as I feel no need to have this same conversation with her over and over again.What’s happened has happened.Our family is safe.Even Rafaelle is safe.Matteo has assured me of that and he keeps assuring me.He’s even shown me pictures of Mom and Lidia shopping in the same store he took me to.And of my dad and Rafaelle drinking espresso, sitting at one of the tables in this garden.They all look well.They all look like they’re taking things in their stride.
I’ve shared all this with Chiara, but she insists on treating me like a traitor despite it.
“He’s asked me to be his wife.”
I haven’t told her this yet, and even now I said it so quietly that I think her silence means she hadn’t heard me.
“There’s your chance then,” she exclaims.“Did you say yes?I hope you said yes.Your curse will get him soon now.”
“I didn’t accept,” I say just as quietly as before.
“What?Why?It’s like the only weapon you have.”
“I don’t know if I want him to die,” I say.“I think I want to be his wife.”
