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Still the atmosphere was difficult. Matteo wasn’t really interested in conversation with Dad, and busy glaring alternately at Massimo and Alessio, or Nevio, who apparently hadn’t gotten Kiara’s memo to keep his head down. Luckily, Maximus and Dad seemed to get along decently, and chatted about Maximus’s various tattoos all over his body. Especially Davide’s interest in the many tattoos fired the conversation up. Davide, of course, had to show off his recently acquired Camorra tattoo. Dad had insisted that he was inducted on his fourteenth birthday despite Mom’s protests, and Davide had run around like the king of the world ever since.
“Are you going to college?” I asked Isabella when the dinner conversations finally started. She was turning nineteen soon so she must have finished high school last year.
She turned to me. “No, I still need to finish high school. I took a break after certain events.”
I flushed. So much about not putting your foot in your mouth. Mom sent me a concerned look and Gianna looked less than pleased about our conversation. Nobody had told me college was on the list of banned topics.
“Uhh… sorry. I—”
“But I’m going to attend Columbia University this fall. I’ll sign up for Creative Writing. I think it’ll help my writing career,” she said firmly, completely ignoring my apology and our mothers’ worried looks. She pushed her glasses back up her nose, and gave a small shrug.
“Wow. Creative writing? That’s really cool. Have you already been accepted to Columbia?”
She let out a small laugh. “No, the application window isn’t even open yet. But let’s be honest, I’ll be accepted.” She glanced at Matteo. “I’m a Vitiello.” It was difficult to read her emotions.
“True,” I said. “How long have you been writing? You never mentioned it before.”
“Well, our contact has been sparse in recent years.” She pursed her lips and widened her eyes.
I laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”
“But I have been writing short stories pretty much all of my life. I never considered taking my writing seriously, but after the war broke out, I started writing novellas and novels, and it’s what I want to do.”
“They are really good,” Sara piped up. I looked at her in surprise. She had quietly chatted with her two younger sisters while her brother Flavio had joined the conversation of the men.
Isabella scrunched up her face comically. “You called them disturbingly dark.”
Sara’s cheeks turned red. She looked pale and thin. I remembered how she’d been before the war, before something happened and she married Maximus instead of a man she’d originally been promised to. If I hadn’t known those two were husband and wife, I wouldn’t have guessed it. Sara mostly angled her body away from Maximus and he was obviously careful to keep his distance too. They seemed like strangers. No, not strangers, because they obviously both carried baggage that concerned the other. I had asked Dad about it but he’d refused to talk to me about it. I couldn’t imagine that Maximus was violent toward Sara, even if he looked absolutely capable to do so with his muscles and tattoos, and considering his job, he definitely was capable of excessive violence too. Romero, Sara’s Dad, would have never tolerated it.
I bet Nevio knew about this. He’d avoided me like the plague, ever since I’d offered him my help if he ever needed someone to talk. I hadn’t pushed him after that because I didn’t want to appear clingy and honestly, I was just over it. Trying to understand Nevio was a 24/7 job I didn’t want to waste my time on right now.
“They are dark and poignant. People will love them.”
“But you didn’t,” Isabella said, without sounding offended or accusing.
“I prefer more uplifting literature, but that’s a personal taste and doesn’t say anything about the quality of your work.”
“You have to let me read one of your books,” I said. “I can handle dark.”
Davide snorted. “Since when?”
“Stop eavesdropping.” I rolled my eyes at him, then turned back to Isabella. “Ignore him. He’s being intolerable since he became a Camorrista.”
Her smile was a bit stiffer than before. “I’m sure you can handle the dark. You spend a lot of time with the Unholy Trinity, after all.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I felt an apology on the tip of my tongue, but I doubted she wanted one from me.
After dancing with Dad and Davide, who annoyingly enough was already taller than me, I looked around for a sign of Nevio. I’d really love to dance with him, but I didn’t see him anywhere. Alessio took Davide’s place as my dance partner, looking like he’d rather be somewhere else.
“You don’t have to dance with me if you don’t want to,” I said as he put a hand on my lower back.
“Some things are inevitable,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows. “Thanks.”
He gave me a tight smile. “I’m sure you’d rather dance with someone else, even if that choice is highly problematic.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said defensively.
