MAGDALENA
How long were you supposed to wait once you were married to be annoyed at your husband? Because I was more than just annoyed. I was fuming. He didn't wear the suit I had purchased with my own hard-earned money, even though I didn't have to get it, but I thought it would be a nice gesture. No, I was wrong. Completely wrong.
He kept frowning at family members as they came up to us to wish us well and give us well-thought-of wedding gifts. And he barely spoke, not only to me but to anyone for that matter. The only words he seemed to know were "yes and " no". He was rude.
Nonna had gone above and beyond to make the reception beautiful. It was a late lunch, with antique dark-stained wooden tables, white table cloths, and tiny lightbulbs that emitted warm light hung from the branches of trees.
Guests milled around and I wrung my hands in anticipation when I realized that only Aperitivo's were being served for the past half hour. Aperitivo's were the welcome drinks, served with shavings from the wheels of Parmigiano with chefs thinly slicing freshly salted and cured prosciutto to guests.
"They're waiting," Damien whispered in my ear and I glanced up at him in surprise to see if he was actually speaking to me. And he was, with his eyes directly on mine. He spoke to me.
"What are they waiting for?" I asked.
"The consummation of our marriage," he said. "It's tradition. Didn't they tell you?"
Swallowing hard, I looked around and smiled as more guests passed us and grinned. Now I understood why they grinned so much.
"Let's go." He pressed his palm against the small of my back and I let him lead me towards the house.
Nonna saw us and just smiled and simply nodded before we entered the kitchen of the house from the back door. I knew that in Sicily they'd wait for the married couple to consummate their marriage as quickly as possible, but I didn't know we were doing this right now and right here.
"Where is your room?" Damien asked, dropping his hand as we moved through the narrow passageway.
"Up here." I led the way as we moved upstairs.
My bedroom door was open when we reached the top of the stairs. The pounding of my heartbeat intensified when I took in the actuality of what we were doing.
Damien shuffled past me when he knew which direction we were headed in. When I finally joined him, I noticed my room was spotless and my once colourful bedding was now replaced with pure white. And vases of white roses sat on either side of my wooden side tables. I'd never had another man in my room—well one that wasn't related to me—up until this moment.
I watched as Damien took off his black suit jacket and placed it on the edge of my bed.
And then he reached into the inner pockets of his jacket only to retrieve a medium-sized dagger with a sharp edge and a black handle.
"What are you doing?" I asked, horror lacing my voice as I watched him take the dagger and gently run the tip of its blade across his palm.
Dark blood dribbled from his palm from the thin cut, until there was a steady flow and it dripped directly onto the clean bedding, staining it dark red.
His jaw tightened as he closed his fist and glanced up at me. "We aren't doing this now. Did you think I was going to sleep with you?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. He stared at me, waiting for an answer and then he realized he wasn't getting one, so he dropped his gaze and placed his dagger back into his jacket.
"I cut my palm so they wouldn't know any better," he said flatly, before pulling this jacket back on.
I nodded and turned away, my face burning at the fact that I actually thought for a second that we were doing this. Maybe Nonna was right. Marriage wasn't all sunshine and roses.
Tears burned the back of my eyes, threatening to fall if I didn't calm my emotions down, so I took a deep breath and then another. I was being stupid. This didn't mean anything.
Turning around again, I went over to the bed and I gathered the bedding up, trying to make it look untidy. Damien's eyes were on me, but I ignored him.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
I drew my gaze up to see him unbuttoning the first few rows of his shirt and the smooth column of his neck with his Adam's apple protruding.
"Well, we didn't have sex with the bed all neat, fatto noi?" My tone was harsher than I intended for it to be, but Damien didn't even bother to reply, so I didn't care.
After a long time had passed, we made our way back to the reception. Naturally, I would have felt embarrassed, but more than that, I was left feeling humiliated by my own husband. I never thought my first time would have been brushed under the rug so easily. Evidence of my fake virtue was on my covers upstairs, when in reality my husband wasn't even planning on touching me.
Did you think I was going to sleep with you? His words played at the back of my mind as more guests came and greeted us. My father and Erik were busy talking with other men—their business associates—and Nonna was busy killing some of the chefs as the Primo Piatto—The First Course—was getting ready to be served.
Damien and I were sitting alone at our table and I avoidee looking at him while everyone settled down and the Casoncelli was served. It's similar to Ravioli, made of fresh pasta dough and stuffed with ground beef and Parmigiano. It was one of my favourite dishes.
I lifted a forkful of Casoncelli, oozing with steaming meat and cheese, before stuffing it in my mouth. It melted on my tongue and immediately I'm transported to the closest thing to heaven.
Damien barely touched his food and by the time the second course came around, I noticed him checking his watch every few minutes as if he had somewhere better to be.
I kept my mouth shut even though I desperately wanted to grab him by his shirt and give him a long list of profanities. Specifically, the ones I've picked up from Nonna over the years.
I ignored the Spigolo Al Forno—which is a traditional sea bass dish prepared with lemons and baked—and focused on the Acciughe al Verde instead. It was salted anchovies in bagnet Verde with the perfect amount of garlic and olive oil. My wine glass kept being refilled too, as I kept emptying it until my face felt too hot and my thoughts were scattered across my brain.
"Maybe you shouldn't." Damien reached for my hand as I offered it to an approaching waiter for it to be filled again.
"Non!" I snapped and he pulled his hand back. "Don't touch me."
I felt him stiffen beside me and he glanced away when I let the waiter fill my glass again.
He could go to hell for all I care.
For our weddings, we don't have a traditional wedding cake. Instead of cake, we have Millefoglie—A thousand layers— which is exactly what its name suggests. It's endless layers and layers of puff pastry with chantilly cream and fresh raspberries, blueberries, and strawberries, eventually dusted with powdered sugar.
No one really has a lot of it since it's so sweet and we were all focused on the main event of the evening which was the tarantella.
I couldn't possibly dance in my wedding dress, so I made my way back into the house and got one of the maids to help me out of my wedding gown.
After digging around, I found another dress in my chest of drawers. It's a pretty white summer dress that came to my knees, made of soft tulle material.
Once I'm back outside, we're ready for the dance. It's a popular folk dance for couples so once the tables are cleared, we all make our way to the dancefloor, and soon there's Italian folk music playing by the band Nonna hired. I'm even more surprised when Damien joined me at my side. It was an easy tune to follow as we started dancing, hopping from one foot to the other. The summer evening was hot and the atmosphere even hotter.
Damien's hand felt warm as our fingers intertwined. And then we were chest to chest, my heart racing, as his hot eyes raked over me. My palm was around the nape of his neck, gently tugging his soft black hair. He hooked his left arm around my waist, holding me close to him as we moved in circles. Our faces were close and our lips closer. His slate grey eyes flicked up to mine and I drew in a deep breath. And then we were apart again, dancing with my cousins and aunts and uncles as the hot sun settled in the sky.