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She takes a seat on the bed and folds her hands on her lap.
“You will survive because your nature is that of a fighter. I’m sorry for not being the mother you wished for, but I want what’s best for you.”
I grit my teeth. “This is not what is best for me.”
“No one is free to do what they want in our world, Chiara. We just fool ourselves into thinking it, because none of us would like the reality too much.”
She caresses my cheek, fingers trembling with a mix of care and worry. At her gentle tone and tender gesture, I gulp down the residual frustration.
From the corner of my eye, I see my father leaning against the doorframe. For just one second, his eyes warm a bit, but then it’s gone. My mother approaches him, and he urges her outside.
“I don’t know what I did wrong with her.”
“You can’t tame fire,amore.”
“If I could change something, it would be for her to never be born in our family,” he mumbles low.
Hearing my father’s words fires up my conviction to find a way out.
***
I walk down the hallway and open the door to my nonna’s room. She rests in an armchair, a book in her frail hand. When she sees me, she pushes herself up, and I go to her to help her stand.
“Bambina.” She cups my face, planting a kiss on each cheek. In my nonna’s arms, I gather strength as if she’s an endless source of it.
“I’m so happy you’re back.”
“I will only be here for a month.”
She pats my back. “But you can come visit.”
My nonna always finds something positive to say. I tell her about my last year at St. Mary’s and that I already miss my best friend, Aurora.
When tiredness drags at her eyelids, I tuck her in and leave.
I sit on the edge of my bed and stare out the window, clouds gathering over the sky in meshed-up gray. Involuntarily, I think of Cato, those dark, silver eyes like clouds brimming with rain, filled with sinful promise. A shudder rolls down my spine. I groan, hating my brain for conjuring the image of my enemy.
Flopping onto my back, I stare at the powder white ceiling, thinking of my best friend.
I wish neither of us had to be this utterly aware of the fact we can’t live the lives we want. Being so different, it’s unbelievable that we became not only friends, but best friends. Aurora’s soft where I am hard; she’s cautious where I am reckless.
The promise I made to her before I left fuels me.We’ll be free.
What about your sister?a voice whispers. But she’s the perfect daughter. Maybe she would have been a better candidate for marriage than me. I don’t need a man. I need my freedom.
Pushing myself out of bed, I step into the bathroom. After taking a shower that does nothing to calm my frayed thoughts, I change into black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt.
When dinner rolls around at 6 p.m., I drag myself downstairs with the desire of a woman being sent to the guillotine. The disapproving glances of my father at my attire do not go unnoticed.
“Go change.”
I look at my mother and sister, both wearing elegant dresses, before I approach them.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” His jaw clamps together with barely-contained rage.
“Then I am not coming back to eat. And you can drag my lifeless body from this house if you want me to marry that man.”
“Give me your phone.”
