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“Come on. Please. For me?”
Her beautiful green eyes connect with mine, and I know she won’t let me down. They aren’t as red rimmed and hollow as I’ve seen in the past when she’d fought leaving the house, kicking and screaming like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Now she’s simply comfortable in her depressed state. It’s like a warm blanket covering every part of her. It’s so much more familiar than the unknowns in the world.
Grabbing her shoes, I slide them on her feet. “Come now. Mimmo is waiting downstairs. He’s excited to see the water.”
And then I see it. The tiny glimmer in her eye. It’s all I need to fertilize this hope she can still have a happy life one day.
We drive down the road in the classic red 1972 Chevy Chevelle SS convertible I purchased after my business took off. As much as Mimmo would love it, I leave the top up so as not to give Antonia one more irritation. I’ll be happy simply to see her on the sand with the sun on her face. I don’t need to push having the wind whipping through her hair on the way there.
She leans against the window, a shell of the girl I knew. My heart aches with the heaviness of my guilt. I’ve accepted our relationship will never be what it once was. But I won’t give up on her. None of this was her doing.
We arrive at our destination and I park on the street. Mimmo is bouncing in his seat behind me while his mother looks as if she’s about to have a root canal. At least she came willingly to the car. When I first started this monthly ritual, seeking out different places she could connect with nature, I had to carry her to the beach. I only want her to see there’s still good in the world. Let the sounds of Mother Earth attempt to chase away her demons, if only for a few moments.
Mimmo runs to the water’s edge, always making sure he’s no further than what’s safe. Even at age five, this kind boy knows what’s best. For him and his mother. There are times I bring him along, but others when Antonia can take these mini adventureswithout her son. On those occasions, unless she wants me near, I stay at a distance. So she can soak up what she will from the day.
I unfold the large beach blanket and kick off my shoes before taking a seat. Digging my toes into the soft, dry sand, I take a moment to appreciate all the good I have in my life. Inhaling a lungful of sea air, I glance up to see a gentle breeze tousling Antonia’s hair.
Closing my eyes, I relish the feel of the sun on my face and the warmth on my skin. My focus is only on the tranquility of this space. I try to concentrate on the sounds of the tide rolling in, to clear my mind of everything but this time and place.
As usual, my thoughts try to distract me. I remember something Luigi shared when I told him of my monthly ritual with Antonia.A crowded mind leaves no space for a peaceful heart, he’d said. He’d later shared it was from the poet, Christine Evangelou, and I quickly ordered several of her books. He’s always throwing quotes at me that make me pause in reflection. I started to think I’d need to keep a pencil with me whenever he was near, but now just jot them down in my phone for later.
But Luigi, and the poet, were right. In my darkest days, I found thinking about the evil that surrounded me was suffocating. There wasn’t any room to allow the good to enter. But in moments where I could be still, there was serenity. I want to teach this to Antonia. That there’s still hope she can have joy in her life.
I know I have to talk to Antonia. Luigi’s offer is too good to pass up. But that will wait until we’re back home. I’ll try to focus on how much better staying with Maria might be for Mimmo. Help with meals, homework, as well as someone who can help get him to and from the bus—that may be the selling factor. Something has to give. She can’t succumb to depression as my mother did. Maybe Maria and Luigi can help coax her out of her shell, while I stay focused on keeping them safe.
CHAPTER SIX
Jillian
A loud popcauses me to jump from the bed with a fright. What was that? Water brash fills my mouth as an eerie sense of dread looms around me.
I glide my hands up and down my arms to ward off the cold as I slide my feet into my slippers. Making my way to my bedroom door, I crack it open just far enough to peek into the hallway. Nothing appears amiss. So why do I feel this utter dismay?
I pass the children’s rooms, reassured their doors are closed. Tiptoeing down the hall, I have no idea what I’ll find. Where’s Dillon? Did he work late?
All of a sudden, there’s a dense fog. It smells like smoke but a bit metallic. There’s a sulfur component as well. Like rotten eggs. I follow the scent until I see it.
Blood. Blood everywhere. Dripping from the walls to the floor…
A gasp from behind me has me spinning. Noooooo!
I spring up from my pillow, my body drenched in sweat. It’s been weeks since I’ve had this nightmare. My heart is racing like a freight train within my chest, and there’s a low level of nausea stuck in my throat. Hopping up from my bed, I fling open my door. Running from one room to another, I verify my children are all safe, asleep in their beds.
As I return to my room, the red neon from the digital clock reads 1:10 a.m. It’s always 1:10. How does my body know? It’s never 1:05 or 1:30.
It’s always 1:10.
Making my way to the ensuite bathroom, I bend to splash some cold water on my face. Padding my skin dry, I look into the mirror before me. Is this how it’s going to be? The rest of my life, a virtual nightmare? My daughter refusing to speak, my baby missing milestones because the trauma I endured during pregnancy has somehow stunted his growth?
Tears fall as I contemplate a future so different than that from years before. Is this karma from poor decisions I made in another life? “Lord, I beg of you. Let there be more for us than this purgatory we’re stuck in. We’ve suffered enough. If we can’t have the happy life we imagined, could you at least grant us peace?”
I swipe away at the remaining waterworks and rinse a washcloth with cool water to soothe the swollen skin around my eyes before returning to bed. I need a few more hours of shuteye before the kids are up getting ready for school. Luckily, I’m only working a princess shift today. I can handle almost anything for six hours.
Lying my head back down on my pillow, I feel the trail of a cool metallic object as it caresses the skin above my breasts. Reaching for it, I say a silent prayer this patron saint of protection can give me just that until this jewelry can be returned to its rightful owner.
My eyes blink open, and I notice the room is brighter than normal.
Shoot!
