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I get to sing every now and then. The bowling alley near the big fountain holds an open mic night once a week. I thought I’d give it a go after we’d been here a month and I’m enjoying it. It’s part of the reinvention of me. Since we got out here, I’ve tried to become a better version of myself. A more confident me. It seems to be working. I’m singing and enjoying it, not letting doubts gnaw away at me as much as they did at home.
My bump’s growing too. Not much is showing yet but it’s definitely there. I don’t know if I’ll give birth here or back home but Ricardo seems to think we’ll be back before too long. For a cold hearted cynic, he seems surprisingly optimistic.
Giancarlo brings me my espresso, setting it down in front of me with a smile. “No husband today?” he asks.
“Busy.”
“You should marry me instead. I take better care of you.”
“What would your wife think of that?”
“She wouldn’t mind. She knows I like American things.”
“And your grandkids?”
“They are too young to care about what I get up to. I tell you what I’ll do for you. I’ll bring you a couple of croissants. Go nice with the coffee.”
“Thanks but you need to stop giving me free stuff. You’ll go out of business.”
His smile broadens as he runs a hand through his shock of white hair. “The Don told me to make you happy. How could I refuse him?”
One more person happy to obey the Don’s commands. I think of last night. Ricardo telling me to get on all fours, his hand slapping on my ass, turning it bright red. I can still feel that spanking this morning. One more way he owns me, marking me as his. Before that, it was making me come down near the river, my moans echoing up toward St. Peters. I just know I’m going to hell for that one. Got to be some kind of sacrilege, right?
I’m already going to go to hell, I think, coming back down to earth with a crash.
I killed a man.
He deserved it though. Does that make a difference?
I try to stop thinking about it. Giancarlo has asked me something but I didn’t hear it. “Say again?” I say as I look up at him.
“I ask if you do anything for Valentine’s Day today?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“The Don will take you somewhere nice. I know it.”
“We’ll see.” I pick up my coffee and take a sip. Giancarlo goes off to the kitchen, humming to himself.
I look out of the window at the passing traffic. It’s strange. I feel like I’ve been doing this my whole life. Like I’ve always lived here.
I find myself thinking about Ricardo as I finish my coffee. I think back to what my mom asked me. Do I love him?
I know I shouldn’t.
Is that an answer?
He’s only really interested in his work. He’s dominating and controlling. He wants to know where I am at all times. He doesn’t talk to me much about what’s in his head. Whenever I feel like I’m getting to know him, he pushes me away.
I know a relationship with him could never really work. He’s a mafia Don with an entire empire to run. What am I? A travel agent who sings sometimes. It’s never going to work. I don’t understand his world at all. The guns, the drugs, the crime. None of it.
Maybe my father is right. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this. Getting connected to a criminal like this was a bad idea. I’ve killed someone and had to flee the country. Doesn’t sound great, does it?
My hand goes to my bump. We’re always going to be connected whether I like it or not. We’re having a baby together. Not that he seems to care. He hasn’t mentioned the pregnancy once since we got out here.
Giancarlo brings me out my croissants. I tell him I’ll eat them at home. He waves me goodbye from the door when I head out. I’ve not gone two minutes before my cellphone rings. It’s mom. I answer just as I reach the front door of our house.
“Hi,” I say down the line, turning the key in the lock. “How’s physical therapy going?”
