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“Experience,” Carmine said, “as this will be done for your future wife as well.”
Valentina wished her mom could be there with her for moral support, especially after the doctor explained what he’d be doing to her. After Dr. Stricknor’s explanation as to the procedure she would endure, Valentina wanted to ask questions; the part of her that rebelled softened for just a moment, and she considered pleasing her family. But then she remembered how they tried to silence her. She no longer felt the need to inquire. Valentina clearly knew what the results would be and smiled. They would be crushed, and Valentina loved that idea even though she was still scared of the actual examination.
“I’m going to put on rubber gloves to preserve you,” Dr. Stricknor instructed. “I will be applying lubricant to my fingers in order to make the process more manageable. Once I place your feet in the stirrups, then the examination will commence.”
As he spoke, Valentina could hear him moving around. She wanted to see what he was doing, but her position on the table prohibited that unless she rested on her elbows. But Valentina felt so nervous. She didn’t think she could balance herself on her elbows, let alone maintain that position enough to see. So, she was forced to look up at the blank ceiling and try to regulate her heartbeat so her heart didn’t explode in her chest before the whole thing was over. Valentina felt the doctor’s cold, clammy, gloved hands reach for her, and her body seized up. She was stiff and unconsciously unwilling to comply.
“Relax, please.”
His response was not encouraging but rather flat and instructive. Didn’t he realize that it was counterproductive to what he wanted? He offered no reassurance, no soothing words, no polite coaxing. It was business for him, just like it was business for her family. Valentina found it difficult to comply. She found it difficult to relax. The whole ordeal was just difficult, more difficult than she anticipated. But she acquiesced with a forceful hand from Dr. Stricknor. He flipped the thin sheet to her midsection. He placed her heels in the cold metal stirrups, but still, Valentina kept her knees closed and close together, pressing. The doctor fumbled around some more away from her for what felt like an eternity, but then he returned his attention to Valentina.
“Open up, please.”
He waited a millisecond for Valentina to respond and then took matters into his own hands, prying her legs open. Whether he was losing patience or not, it was difficult to tell. Dr. Stricknor’s voice was just as flat and directive as it had been since the moment he entered the room,
“Relax and breathe through it.”
His words barely preceded his actions. Valentina inhaled sharply as it felt like he shoved two fat fingers into her to the hilt. Her brow furrowed, and she closed her eyes. The pain was abrupt and more than she anticipated. She held her breath even though he told her to breathe. Valentina couldn’t help it. But the air trapped in her throat started to burn her chest, and she had to exhale, which only intensified her discomfort. When he moved his fingers inside her, she wanted to yell. What was he feeling for? Wasn’t it obvious? She withstood the examination, and as soon as it began, it was over.
“You can get dressed.”
Dr. Stricknor exited the room as unceremoniously as he entered. Valentina dared to sit up, still feeling like there were fingers in places where fingers should not have been, at least not a stranger’s fingers. She lifted her frame from the table, wrapped herself in the sheet, and stepped down from the table. As she cleaned herself up and redressed, Valentina anticipated that the results of her exam were being shared.
She managed another slight smile.
Chapter Two
Isotta still stood for her fitting. Whether she was getting tired or not was irrelevant. Nobody would listen to her voice any objection. They would merely dismiss it and try to be coaxing in their desire to have her stand ‘just a little while longer.’ So, she didn’t even bother to verbalize that she was growing tired of standing still like a mannequin. She sighed a heavier sigh than was required as her thoughts shifted to the day when everything changed.
“How could you embarrass the family that way?”
Costanza was quiet as Valentina’s parents berated her. Isotta couldn’t find her voice. She could tell by the way the family stormed into the house that things hadn’t gone to plan. It didn’t take Isotta long to understand what happened. She had feelings but didn’t express them. The family might turn on her if she did. Yet, Isotta felt bad for her sister, who refused to go down without a fight.
“You know how important your passing that test was to the family,” her father uttered, his head in his hands. “You know how critical your being pure was to our very survival.”
“It was a mistake,” Valentina dared to utter, barely audible to those around her.
Celestina spun on her heels and glared at her daughter. Normally, she would sit more quietly, letting Francesco chastise her, but not this time.
“A mistake? What do you mean by a mistake?” She quizzed, not giving Valentina an opportunity to respond. “Are you suggesting that the doctor made an error?”
Valentina set her jaw and stared back at her mother, unresponsive. Again, Isotta wanted to say something, to speak up for her sister. But she looked on silently.
Things were just as heated at the Esposito home. Carmine had already shared his discontent, first trying to talk with Francesco but ultimately dismissing him to talk with the real decision-maker.
“What do you want me to say?” Sofia countered, still trying to come to grips with what the doctor said.
“I want you to say you’ll make this right!”
Sofia leveled Carmine with a look that made him lower his voice and speak much more respectfully, even if he didn’t mean it.
“We had a lot riding on that contract, Carmine. What are we supposed to do about our anticipated losses? And what about my son? He was promised a bride. Now what?”
But she had no answer for him, not to either question.
“She wasn’t good enough for you,” Sofia uttered, feeling her son’s pain but also feeling his anger and frustration.
“I appreciate you saying that, mother, but,” Alessandro began, “It’s embarrassing.”
