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Getting out of bed, I search for my secret stash of weed, and head back into my bathroom. I close the door and fill the bath with hot water until the whole room looks like a sauna. I lie in it, smoking as I listen to Louis Armstrong on the speakers. The bathroom walls are painted a light pink so the room is bathed in a rosy light. I wish I’d taken the time to light some scented candles as well before I settled in the bath.
I close my eyes and try to get lost in the music or at least in the weed, but my mind is swirling and it can’t really relax. When my bath water gets cold, I get out and wrap myself in a cotton robe. I sit on the bed with my laptop and go to Netflix where I watch my favorite comfort show – The Office.
Lying back on my pillows, I just stare at my laptop, not really taking in any of the scenes. I can’t really process anything except the places my body hurts. Thankfully, the weed is helping with that.
Gradually, without me consciously realizing it, my eyes start to close and I finally fall asleep.
* * *
The next day, I go downstairs to find the best surprise. Aunt Ludovica is sitting at the breakfast table with my parents. After going over to kiss her cheeks, I wish everyone a good morning and take a seat. After my night, I’m determined to bring Patrizio up and discuss what he did to me.
But Aunt Ludovica and my parents are talking.
“It will do her heart good to speak to a priest. I know it.” My aunt is saying, and I freeze in the process of putting scrambled eggs on my plate.
Is she talking about Father Lorenzo?
“Let me take her with me to confession this morning. I’ll bring her back by the end of the day. She’ll be perfectly safe with me.”
I look towards my parents, both of whom look skeptical. “Patrizio was very clear. He wanted her kept indoors until the wedding.”
“Excuse me, what?” I exclaim, staring at my parents in horror. I gave my mother a betrayed look, “Mamma, did you tellpapàwhat happened?”
She avoids my eye, while pretending to fuss with her coffee cup. “Darling, you really must calm down,” she says, acting distressed. “These stories you’re making up will not help anyone. I know you think you’re too young to marry but I assure you-”
I get to my feet with a screech from the chair, glaring at them both. “Patrizio Frecciaassaultedme.”
Papàwaves a hand, motioning for me to sit back down, looking as dismissive as I’ve ever seen him. My parents don’t listen to me much, but I thought this might pique their interest… just a little?
“We spoke with Patrizio this morning and he assured us that you are mistaken. He merely wished to show you some affection and clearly you misconstrued it. However, since you’ve accused him of touching you inappropriately, he is willing to make up for it. You will be married by this Saturday.”
My heart sinks. I feel like I’m tripping. What is this? Ispapàsuggesting amatrimonio riparatore? Did I slip and fall back into the Middle Ages? What are medieval practices doing in my modern-day family? I have no need for Patrizio to ‘repair my honor’ by marrying me quickly. I want him arrested and jailed. Or, because we are mafiosi, I am quite willing to replace ‘arrested and jailed’ with ‘shot and dropped in the ocean wearing a pair of cement shoes’.
Tomayto, tomahto.
If my parents are afraid to do it, I can do it myself.
“No. That won’t be happening.” I say very firmly.
My aunt gets to her feet as well. “Giada darling, I think we should go and see the priest and confess. I am sure you’ll feel more settled in your mind after. Less confused.”
My mother is nodding along encouragingly, “Listen to yourmadrina.” She chimes in.
I huff but then turn to Aunt Ludovica, knowing she just wants to get me out of here before I do something irrevocable. I’m very tempted to tell her to go fuck herself but I really want to see Father Lorenzo and hear what he has to say.
“Fine.” I say, “Let’s go.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Sneaking back into New York is a lot tougher than it looks. For one thing, there is no way I can breach the city limits without my father hearing about it. If my father hears of it, then so will Eric and that would probably mean that the deal is off. I don’t want to cause my father further headaches.
I have been humbled.
Well… maybe not humbled, but I'm trying to be less reckless than I was before. To think before I act and all that. So instead of going straight to New York, I drive to Chicago where an old friend of mine is currently running things. He was very conveniently declared dead by the NYPD, so he left town to start a new life elsewhere.
It's very convenient to have a connect that nobody knows is alive.
I drive straight through, calling Tommy as soon as I hit Chicagoland.
