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“Why do you want that?”
“Because I didn’t expect it to be like it was when I saw the one tonight. I thought I was farther along. Not over it—I don’t know if that will ever happen—but I didn’t think he’d have the effect on me that he did.”
“And what makes you think it won’t be the same with the others?”
“I’m ready now. Prepared.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Because it fucked me up? Made me crazy?”
“Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“What, do you care now? Am I some sort of pity project now?”
“I don’t pity you. Far from it.” I stand up, take her jaw in my hand, and tilt her head upward. “I think you need someone to take care of you right now, that’s all.”
“And you’re that guy?” She snorts, pulls free. “I’m fine, Giovanni. I don’t need you to take care of me.”
“That’s not true. You and I both know it. Go upstairs, and go back to bed like a good little girl now.” I sit back down and turn my attention to my laptop. From my periphery, I see her clench her hands.
“I’m not a little girl. Where are the rest of the photos? Who else has seen them?”
I finish reading what’s on my screen before turning to her. “Don’t worry about that. Do as you’re told.”
I watch her anger grow, feel it coming off her. She shoves at me and pulls a drawer open, then another.
I close my hand over hers. “Stop. It’s enough.”
She tugs it away, tries to pull the next drawer open, but this is one is locked.
I’m on my feet in an instant. I capture her wrists, hold them at her back. She tilts her face up. I’m a good head taller than her.
“Anger is good, rage is better, but only if you can control it. If you can’t, then it controls you.”
She pulls against me, but I don’t let her go. She doesn’t struggle for long, though. “I don’t want to be weak again.”
I understand that, but she’s got it wrong. “You weren’t weak. They were the weak ones. Raping a woman doesn’t make you powerful. The opposite.”
“What about what I told you?”
“Which part?”
She can’t hold my gaze when she says it. “The fact that I came.” Her voice breaks, and I know this part is killing her. “What does that say?”
“It says you’re human.” I soften my grip, slide my hands over hers, and intertwine our fingers. “Don’t fucking kill yourself over this. It’s done. What they did happened. But it’s over. You survived, and they’re going to get what’s coming to them. That’s all you need to remember.”19EmiliaI convince Giovanni to let me go to work the next night. He can’t keep me locked up inside this house forever. Besides, the Ragoni engagement party is tonight. I have to be there. He has three men stationed on the property, one in the lobby, one in the front lot, and another around the back entrance. Giovanni will be here at midnight to pick me up.
It’s a formal engagement party, so I’m dressed in a long lavender gown. It’s cut in a deep V down the front, but my back is covered to my neck. I’m in the bathroom off the lobby arranging my hair in a French twist and decide to leave some wisps to frame my face. I like how it looks. It’s less severe, much softer than I usually wear it. I tell myself I’ll go back to the tight bun on Monday.
Giovanni didn’t mention anything about the other night. About what I dreamed I said. I am grateful it was a dream. I don’t love him. It’s ridiculous to fall in love with the first man who doesn’t violate you.
I stop. Shake my head.
If that’s my criteria these days, then I am truly pathetic.
After applying a layer of lip gloss, I close my clutch and return to the reception room to see about the setup. The party is beginning to trickle in, and I want to be sure everything is perfect—the flowers arranged, the candles lit, everyone seated before the happy couple arrives. I like engagements, although weddings are my favorite. Most everyone is happy, and it’s like it gives me hope. Not for my own wedding. I don’t want that. I’m not looking for that. Hope, instead, that it is possible to be happy. I stand and watch everyone for a little while, and I feel the smile on my face. I feel lighter somehow. I know things are far from over with my brother, but it’s like having someone know what happened, having someone tell you you’re not fucked-up—that you’re just human—it somehow lifted the burden, at least a little. I never realized how dark or heavy it was before, I guess.
It’s eleven at night when I return to my office. I glance at the front desk, which is empty, since it’s shift change. The hotel is creepy when it’s so quiet, and it is quiet because the reception hall is in the new addition to ensure overnight guests aren’t disturbed. I just have to wrap up a few details before I can leave. I’ll go to his house tonight. I’m not sure how I feel about that—or how I should feel, because as much as I miss my apartment, I don’t want to be alone. It’s like I’ve been alone for so damn long that my life is just filled with empty space.
