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“Why not come inside and get me if you knew where I was?” I ask. “Why wait until this morning?”
“Could have been a trap set up by one of the other families,” Pietro replies. “I knew you’d come out sooner or later.”
“How did you know that?”
“Because you’re a coward and this childish display of bravado was never going to last. I guessed it was a one night stand. Hope it was worth it. You’re going to get one hell of a beating when we get back.”
“You sound happy about it.”
“You’ve always been a little bitch, Aurora. You need to get over all this acting out bullshit and accept your lot in life.”
“And what is that, exactly?”
“You’re a woman. You do as you’re fucking told. You get married. You get fucked. You have kids. Leave the rest of it to us with brains. Men are in charge in this world for a reason. You’re just a baby factory with tits.”
“That’s great. Glad to have your considered opinion on the matter.” I lapse into silence which seems to suit him just fine.
The longer the drive goes on, the more my bravado fades away. Soon, like the bubbles in a soda can left open too long, I’m flat as hell.
Eight
Aurora
* * *
Rolling in through the gates of our estate, my heart sinks. I’ve really done it this time. The next time those gates open for me, will it be to take my coffin out? Or will I be buried in the family crypt behind the house, never to see the outside world again?
The van stops outside the front door. I get out and my dogs come running up to me. Pietro kicks out at them both, sending them slinking away. They sit on the grass a few yards away, staring at me, ears up, waiting for me to fuss them.
I want to but my mother is on the doorstep, tapping her foot, her arms folding across her chest. She looks like she’s been crying all night. “You’ve done it this time,” she says. “What did I do to deserve this kind of disobedience? Tell me, please. I’d love to know. Was it something I did wrong? Have I not brought you up right, Aurora?”
Each step I take toward her seems heavier than the last. By the time I reach her, she’s laying it on thicker than usual. “I don’t know why you’d want to hurt me like this. Staying out all night without a care in the world. Anything could have happened to you, Aurora. Why would you do this to me? Don’t you love me? No, don’t bother answering. I don’t want to hear it. Go and see your father in his study this instant.”
I walk past her and she sniffs loudly like I’m dog shit wafting on the breeze, offending her nostrils with my mere presence. “You stink of cigar smoke,” she says. “Lord, give me strength.”
The walk to my father’s study is one I’ve taken many times before. Each time ends the same way. Me put in my place by his lashing tongue and cruel hand. I’ve had so many slaps from him, I don’t even feel surprise anymore when they happen.
The worst thing is the look in his eyes while he does it, like I’m nothing but a disappointment for daring to have a mind of my own.
I can’t help it.
I tried telling him that once. I can’t help thinking for myself. I don’t want to do it but it’s like the color of my hair or the fact I have a birthmark on my right arm. It’s just part of who I am. He laughed at me and told me to get used to being frustrated. That’s the lot of women. Frustration and obedience. My mother came to accept it and I will too.
This time is different. When I knock, he doesn’t yell.
“Enter,” he says, sounding tired.
I walk in and he looks as tired as he sounded. “I’ve been up all night,” he says, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Because of you.” Without the glasses he looks a lot older but just as cold. He runs his eyes along the nearest bookcase, as if choosing what to read. I wait. He won’t pick up anything. He never does.
The study is filled with books, none of which he ever reads. They’re in here to give it an ambiance of culture. Same reason a concerto is playing on his stereo. I know for a fact he hates classical music but it’s all he allows in the house. He’s like me in some ways, a man trapped in a world he doesn’t want to be in. I wonder what he would have been like if he wasn’t part of the mafia. Would he have been happier? Kinder?
“Where did you go last night?” he asks, replacing his spectacles and leaning back in his seat, making it creak. Or maybe that was his spine. “We found your car by a nightclub. Tell me that wasn’t where you went. A den of sin and iniquity is no place for an innocent girl of nineteen.”
“I went out,” I told him. “I said I wanted to go out so I went.”
“After we forbade you from leaving?”
“Yes and I didn’t get hurt, despite what you said. The world isn’t that bad, father. I had a couple of drinks, that was all.”
