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“Just a few days so sure” she replied, a smile on her face.
I returned her smile. It was nice to have someone my age to talk to even for a little while. I forgot what it was like to have friends. People to gossip and laugh with. This was fun.
“Thanks,” I said.
She waved me off, “I should be thanking you. I never thought my brother would marry; I didn’t think any of them would marry honestly. He’s like 50.”
I laughed loudly, “He’s only 40.”
“He isn’t far off,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“How many brothers do you have?” I didn’t know that my husband had siblings much less more than one. It wasn’t like we spoke much these past few days.
He mostly stayed to himself and so did I.
“Well, there’s Silas who is 36 and the ultimate pain in my ass,” she said, rolling her eyes, “And then there’s Eli, my twin.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. We’re a big family. Well, if you include the entire mob,” she said, nonchalantly causing me to choke on a bit of my spit.
It didn’t shock me that she knew about what her family did for a living. We were rarely ever shielded from this way of life. Women knew their role in the criminal underground -to be a wife and a mother- before they even learned how to say "Dada".
It was an archaic practice but what could one sole woman do? Exactly.
It did shake me how she acted like it was normal. And maybe it was for us which is why I wondered why she was away at university and not married to a made man like I was at 18.
“Elias lets you go to school,” I said, framing it not as a question but more like a statement.
“Yeah. He tries to keep me separate from this life. I don’t complain. I’m thankful actually, instead of marrying some man with a limp dick, I get to go to school but I do miss my brothers, especially Eli. We were supposed to go to school together in Bursia but he wanted to prove himself to our dad,” she said, a twinge of sadness in her voice.
“I get it. My brother is the same way.”
She hummed and with that, we sat together as the sounds of the pottery wheel kept us company.
***
Elizabeth had created a bowl and cup by the time Jason called us to let us know dinner was going to be served.
I told her I would meet her downstairs since I wanted to change my clothes quickly. I didn’t want my first time meeting my husband’s parents, I was a sweaty, dirty mess.
So, scrubbing the clay from my hands and changing into a simple cotton dress with a V-neckline, I went downstairs, fluffing my curls on the way.
When I entered the room, more than six pairs of eyes stared at me. My heart began to quicken its thumps against my chest, and I gulped, trying to rid my mouth of the spit that kept it tied.
“Good evening,” I said, softly, lowering my gaze and walking to the only available seat next to Elias.
When I sat down, my gaze was still in my lap, until the familiar touch of my husband lifted my chin.
He tsked, “Chin up, sweetheart.”
I still blushed at the pet name, but I did what he said and began to look around the table.
The man, I’m guessing was Elias’s father, wore a salt and pepper goatee, the same as the hair on his head. He was dressed like the other men at the table in a well-tailored suit. He was staring at me as well, analyzing me, the same way his son did when we were first declared husband and wife.
I cleared my throat and let my eyes roam the rest of the table.
An older-looking Elizabeth sat next to him; her black hair tucked in a bun. She looked at me, but it was to offer a small smile which I did the same. She looked like the perfect, mob wife; meek but beautiful.
