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Enzo’s voice is enough for me to feel ill, and I turn my head slightly and vomit all over his shoes. Papa reaches out and slaps me again, and his soldiers return to grab me and lead me away.
35
Frankie
Papa’s soldiers have brought me to my old bedroom where I can clean up and get ready for dinner. Nothing has changed; my clothes are still hanging in the wardrobe, my toiletries are all still in my bathroom. I have the same fresh white towels, same floral linen and cushions on my bed, nothing has changed at all… except me.
I left here a year ago a lost woman, someone who had never stood on her own two feet. Someone who always had other people making her decisions and someone who never got to experience life for herself. If I think back to my life before Boston. I was not really living, merely surviving. The feelings of helplessness come rushing back as I take in the room and as nice as it is, it feels like a jail, and I have now just been locked up for a life sentence.
I sit on the edge of my bed and survey the room, letting the situation wash over me. I want to curl in a ball and cry. I want Marco, I want my husband. I wonder about Sebastian because I know he will be furious right about now.
I want to get out of here, but I can’t. Soldiers are everywhere throughout the house. I can’t even sneeze without one of them knowing about it. Papa is downstairs in his office, the front gates closed and no doubt locked. No one can come in or out without papa knowing.
I take a deep breath; I need to remain strong and firm. I need to remain confident. I can’t show weakness. So sitting up from my bed, I do what I always have done when in Sicily, I move like a robot through the motions. I shower and wash my hair, washing my body to get rid of the feeling of arms on me and wishing that I could still smell Marco’s scent, which is now long gone.
My face aches from the slaps I received earlier, my eyes are tired and my body is weary. I want to put a cold compress on my cheek, because my face is throbbing in pain, but I don’t. I want my face to look battered in front of them. I want them to see the damage they do. In our family, all the women are taught at a young age to cover their bruises and scars. But not today. I am going to show them off for everyone to see. Because I know that not all mob families behave as ruthlessly as my papa, and if I am going down into the depths of hell, then I want everyone to know about it.
Standing in my robe, I blow dry my hair the way papa likes because I am not stupid enough to push his buttons too hard. I sit at my vanity looking through my make up trying to find the right shade of lipstick to match the growing purple that is slowly rising in my cheeks when there is a knock on my bedroom door.
My heart leaps in my chest, and my survival instincts kick in, my hand immediately going underneath the vanity. I am relieved to feel both my knife and gun still stuck to the underside of the desk. I put them there once my papa told me of the engagement to Enzo, because even then I knew I wasn’t going to marry him. I just thought the only way out of it was fighting to the death.
I turn around to face the door as it opens and my mama walks in, looking regal in a chiffon gown like she is going to the opera. She is a beautiful woman, even now in her fifties, and she always dresses up, even for the smallest occasions.
Tonight it is a deep burgundy floor length dress, no doubt brand new and her dark brown hair is pulled back in a French twist. Her constant shopping frustrates my papa to no end, but she has always been the same since the day they met.
She sits on my bed, holding a limoncello, probably her third or fourth by the way her eyes look. My mama and I have never been close. She isn't close to Sebastian either. I don’t think she even ever wanted children, but did so to give papa an heir as was her duty. Or papa forced her, which is probably the more likely scenario.
She is striking, elegant, and youthful. She captures the attention of many men; to look at her, she is divine. But once she opens her mouth, you can see the ugliness inside and you soon understand why her and papa are a perfect match. Growing up, she left us kids to our own devices, and that is why I gravitated to Alf and Sofia so much. They were always around watching out for us, making sure we were safe, loved and looked after.
“What were you thinking?” she spits out at me, not surprising me with her words but startling me with her outburst. Hello to you too, Mama, I think to myself because she has no loving greeting for her only daughter.
“You knew we would find you. You knew what you were born to do. This is your life; this is what you have to do. Your papa and I are disgusted by your behavior. Your brother will be so upset when he sees you. He is on his way now, so he should be here in time for the wedding tomorrow.”
I perk up at her words. “Is Sebastian coming to Sicily?” I ask, trying not to sound too excited.
“Of course, he wouldn’t miss seeing his only sister getting married!” she says it like I am being ridiculous. “He has been looking for you every day since you left, he was worried sick like the rest of us.” Internally I smile because Sebastian didn’t miss my wedding, he was front and center, he gave me his blessing and gave me away.
If Sebastian is coming, I have hope that I can get out of this arrangement. But I keep all of that inside. On the outside, I nod solemnly so as to not give anything away. Meanwhile, excitement is bubbling up, and I see a little bit of light at the end of the god-awful tunnel.
“Finish getting ready, and I will meet you downstairs. Enzo has been very patient, my dear. Let’s ensure we make an excellent impression this time.” As she begins to move, I wonder if
Enzo brought another pair of shoes with him, given that I ruined his pair only an hour ago. She sashays out the door, her limoncello sloshing out of the glass. She is not at all worried that her only daughter is about to marry a man twenty years older than her and that he has a history of killing his wives and assaulting young girls.
My blood boils at the thought of him. There is not enough money in the world I could be offered to marry him willingly. He is a typical old school mobster, loves the fight, the struggle, the blood, the winning, and the money. If he marries me then he is second in line to the family, the only person standing in his way will be Sebastian and that makes me worry, because Enzo will stop at nothing to get what he wants.
I move my weary body and finish getting ready. My clothes are in place, and I am wearing a dress that is not dissimilar to my mamas. My hair is done, now long and flowing and bright red lipstick on my lips which brings out the bruises on my cheeks that are starting to form. But they won’t be too visible tonight under the candlelight that I know my papa likes to eat with.
With a roll of my neck to relieve the tension and a sigh to prod my lungs into working order, I put up my walls and bring out my inner mobster. Because although I am a female in this family, I am still a Romano and I know what it takes to be Alessandro’s daughter. Enzo hasn’t seen anything yet.
I leave my room and walk down stairs, seeing a few soldiers wandering the house, but predominantly looking bored out of their minds. I make my way to the dining room for dinner all the while wanting it to be tomorrow already so I can see Sebastian. He is my only link to Marco and will know whether my husband is alive or dead.
36
Frankie
Dinner was just as horrible as I was expecting. Papa and Enzo sat next to each other and discussed business all night, ignoring both mama and myself. Enzo was seated next to me, and although he didn’t talk to me, his hand wandered to my leg regularly, making me feel sick throughout the entire meal. I barely ate a thing.
Mama was busy looking at her own reflection in any and all mirrored surfaces in the dining room and drinking way too much wine. She retired early to her room, and I did the same, leaving papa and Enzo at the table talking through their plans to take over a part of New York that they had no control over yet. I wonder if the current family who manage that area know of their plans. Probably not.
