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I'm not a dancer, and the dance that Vittorio asked me to learn is absurdly difficult, full of back and forth, turns and steps that my head can't process.
“I'm going to embarrass myself,” I say the words out loud. “And, worse, I'm going to embarrass the Don.”
“Nonsense!” she exclaims. “We've just started, your body isn't conditioned enough for this, but five-year-old Italian children can dance this waltz, Gabriella, you'll do it.” I purse my lips, far from feeling as confident as Rafaella. “I'm sorry,” she says after looking at me for a while, and I frown.
“What for?”
“For yesterday, for not telling you what the newspapers were saying, for thinking I knew what was best for you.” She gives me a small smile.
“We’ve already talked about this, Rafa. It’s water under the bridge.” I shrug, but Rafaella shakes her head from side to side.
“You are so different from everything.” The way my friend says the words makes it clear that it is not a criticism. Rafaella's look is almost like... admiration? I laugh because I don't see a reason for anyone to admire me. “I’m serious!” Rafa sighs at my reaction. “I’ve never thought I fit into this world, Gabriella,” she admits. “Ever since I was a child, while other girls played withtheir dolls and pretended to be marrying the most powerful man in Sagrada, I just wanted to dance, because while I was spinning nonstop, I pretended that I was actually flying. That I was free, you know?” I nod. “But even then, I already knew that I was born a bird without wings.” Her smile is sad when she says that. “Even though you don't understand this feeling, even though you don't want to fly, you were able to speak for those who want to without asking for anything in return, without...” Rafaella pauses and licks her lips. “Without it affecting your life in any way when I, the one most interested in this, would never have that courage. You listen, Gabriella. You always listen and much more, you understand. You always understand. And that's not something I've seen before I met you.”
I look away, embarrassed.
“I didn't do anything much.”
“You were my friend. Thank you for that. And I'm sorry that I wasn't the same for you yesterday, I really am.”
“Now you're just talking nonsense. You have always been my friend, Rafaella. I don't know what would have become of me here if you hadn't reached out to me, I would probably still be locked in my room, inSignoraAnna's wing, because I stained that chair.”
“I just wanted to be rebellious,” she says in a confessional tone, making me laugh. “I like being different. If everyone was telling me to stay away from you, I had no other option than to become your friend.”
“You’re ridiculous!” Rafaella winks at me, and I roll my eyes.
It's easy, very easy. Talking to her always was and loving her too. I had never had a friend before, so I don't know if it's like that with all friendships: if they are all destined to be light and full of colors.
Rafaella said that I spoke for her without asking for anything in return, but the truth is that she was the first person in my life for whom I didn't have to do anything. She didn't need me for anything, and yet she came over and held out her hand. I will never be grateful enough for that.
“I wish you were truly free,” I say sincerely.
“I suppose to do that, first, I need to figure out what this freedom means to me.” I furrow my eyebrows at her response.
“I thought you wanted to go back to the United States.” She clicks her tongue.
“Nah... I talk too much, but the truth is that, as much as I enjoyed being outside, I missed our world. Maybe I've been spoiled by conditioning after eighteen years here. I would have come back, maybe not so soon, certainly not to be reduced to a childbearing wife, but I would have come back. Italy is my home, Sagrada is my family, I belong to La Santa and, although I don't carry the brand, it is embedded in my heart.” I shouldn't, but I envy this feeling, that of belonging, because no matter how much Vittorio says I'm his, I know that this is a temporary status. But what Rafaella has with Sagrada, I've never had with anything. “You will find your path too,” she adds, seeming to read my thoughts. “We're both going.”
“I hope so.”
“I'm sure. I need to be.” Rafa throws herself against the back of the sofa. “Do you know what else I'm sure of?” She asks and, after imitating her gesture, collapsing myself against the soft cushions of the upholstery, I just turn my face towards her.
“What?”
“That if the underboss irritates me for even a minute longer, I'm going to be killed for attacking him.” My eyebrows rise, I have no idea where this topic came up.
I had already noticed that there was something strange about Rafaella and Vittorio's brother, but she never spoke freely about the topic, and I didn't want to force it.
“Did you see him after that afternoon in the kitchen? He seems a little scary to me.” Rafa scratches her throat.
“He's an annoying pig.”
“Are you going to explain to me what's going on or are we playing a new game whose objective is to insult the underboss?” I question, too curious to contain myself.
“He doesn't accept the fact that I'm not just another one of the women eager to jump into his bed, the man simply refuses to accept the no.”
“Did he touch you without your permission?” The question comes out almost like a scream.
“No, but he's determined to wear me down, which isn't exactly much less disloyal.”
