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“Now it’s up to you,” I said, drawing his attention. “You have to make them truly believe you’ve fallen for her, or that you’ve always loved her. The more they believe it, the better for us.”
“If she doesn’t talk much. I’ll just replace her face with yours,” he said nonchalantly as if he didn’t just complain about how he couldn’t act with her.
“And Klarissa?”
“She won’t live to see next Monday, I swear it, especially after the line she crossed,” he replied clenching his fist.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of it? This might scare your new fiancée away.”
His eyes were stern, and all humor was gone as he spoke directly to me. “Do not lower yourself for this. It was my oversight. There is only so much embarrassment you or I can take before we start firing at each other.”
I put my bowl of kettle down on the centerpiece. “I’m glad you know. If it is not handled—”
“Do you not trust me?”
“Fine. I’m going to go take a shower before I catch my flight to Boston.” I stretched as I got up from the chair, cracking my back. “You should head back.”
He nodded, getting up and taking his jacket already walking towards the door. I could tell he was beginning to plot already. He didn’t look back at me which was a bit irritating.
“Ethan,” I called to him when his hand reached for the doorknob. He paused, looking back to me, confused. “Vieni qui e baciami. (Come here and kiss me.).”
His eyebrow rose but he didn’t argue. He came to me and I reached up grabbing his dark hair as he kissed me and like always, his hands drifted down to my ass, cupping it. When we broke apart, his hand was still there. He glanced down at me with heated eyes and he reached up to undo the first button of my shirt.
“I have a flight to catch,” I told him.
“I’ll get you a new one. Ti voglio (I want you.),” he told me. I hesitated, but realized it might be a while before we’d get another chance.
Taking his hand, I led him towards the bedroom. I was most definitely missing that flight.
Sunday, August 20th
As I watched the sky fill with black smoke, as I listened to them scream and watched them run for safety, I found myself wondering for what had to be the millionth time if I was bipolar. All the tests said no, but the ease with which I shifted from one extreme to the other was often baffling me to. When I asked my grandfather if he thought it was odd too, he just laughed at me.
He said, “Calliope, you are an Italian woman, extremes are the only language you all have in common.”
He was so amused I’d asked. I was only twelve at the time, but I truly thought he was going to give me a lecture on all the ways in which Italian woman were crazy. Instead he told me no matter how smart I was, no matter how well I could scheme, or strong I was, I would never be able to tame my emotions. It was just not in my DNA. I thought he was being dramatic and ignored him. Over last few years I’d noticed he was right, absolutely one hundred percent correct, so I didn’t really try to reason with the unreasonable part of myself anymore.
“HELP!”
“SOMEONE CALL FOR HELP!”
“CALL 911!”
The people on the sidewalk with me all panicked as they watched the church across the street burn. I clicked the button on my keychain again.
BOOM!
“OH MY GOD!”
“Is it a terrorist attack?”
“Where is it coming from?” they all questioned, and I just stood behind them with my hand over my mouth as if I was mortified. More people stumbled out, tripping over themselves and each other. I noticed Donatella being dragged out by the lapdog, Tobias. Her dark hair flying out around her head. I frowned at that. She looked very undignified. I understood it was an emergency, but she still ought to have some decorum in public, no?
Now where is Ethan? che cazzo è? (what the fuck is this?) I thought as I watched him coming out carrying the jailbird as if she was a fucking princess. My annoyance only rose as the people on the sidewalk with me took photos and videos as he got her into the Range Rover.
“ETHAN!” Dona, who struggled in Toby’s arms, screamed until he picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder, and she didn’t seem to fucking care that all them were apparently channeling their inner 1990s Disney prince.
“NANA! ETHAN! NANA!” she yelled, pointing to the building.
