Rick and I spent the rest of the morning pretending that we were okay. That what we were doing was okay. It wasn't. It was wrong, to keep going back and forth. Pushing and pulling. Shoving and dragging. But it was tiring to keep fighting it. We both knew what we wanted. It just sucked that we weren't supposed to want it.
We were in the bath tub. Sated and catching our breaths after the glorious fucking we've been doing. It was like we were trying to fuck away all the shit in the world. If we just kept fucking, things didn't matter. It didn't, at least for a while. But then nothing lasts. Not even the surreal orgasms lasted for long. And then we'd be stuck in silence. Ignoring the things that we should be acknowledging. How fucked up this situation was.
Armed with a pair of scissors and an electric razor, I decided to cut his hair, growing annoyed with how the tips would touch his eyelashes every time he blinked.
"I wanna take you out," Rick suddenly said after I'd finished cutting his hair and was now shampooing it.
I frowned, looking at him. "What?"
"On a date," he clarified. "You still owe me a date, you know."
I sighed, rinsing the shampoo off his hair. "We can't, Rick."
"Just one date. That's all I ask and I'll give you up."
Now, I was pissed.
"You told me this morning you'll never leave. Now you're telling me you want to give me up. Are you fucking with me or something?" I said, chuckling humorlessly.
Back and forth. That was all we were doing.
He sighed, turning to face me. "I want you, but it has to be all of you. I don't want to be your one night stand every night anymore. The mornings suck too much," he said, forcing the humor in his words.
"You don't want everything. Stop asking for that," I said, feeling frustrated.
"But I do though."
"Was last night not enough?" I snapped in annoyance.
He stiffened and I knew he was remembering my unwarranted confession from last night.
"I'll take everything. The good and bad. You know that," he said, his voice grave.
I sighed irritably, pulling away, but he put his arms around me, keeping me in my place. As if I belonged here. With him. It only pissed me off more knowing I didn't and never will.
"You want everything?" I spat, pushing his arms off me. "Fine. When I was seven, I finally had the guts to ask my father if he loved me. He told he hated me and that every time he looked at me, all he saw was his worst mistake. When I was nine, my mother spoke to me for the first time in my life. 'Sors de mon chemin, petite pute,' were her words. It means 'Get out of my way, little whore'. When I was thirteen, I attempted suicide for the first time by emptying a bottle of sleeping pills and chasing it with shots of vodka. I threw up all over myself and was too ashamed to try again. Two weeks ago, I stood guard outside a hotel room for an hour while my mother fucked my future husband inside. And oh yeah, my brother has murdered nearly every man our father has sold me to and I'm pretty sure he'll get to the rest of them with time. Good enough for you? Or do you still want more?"
I got to my feet, stepping out of the tub and grabbing a towel before walking out of the bathroom. I snatched my cigarettes from his bedside table and lit up a stick as I headed for his balcony. My fingers were trembling and I was reminded of my cravings as I took one long drag from my cigarette after another.
I haven't had a single drop of alcohol since I woke up this morning and don't get me fucking started with the withdrawal symptoms already starting to kick in. I fought through it. I may be an addict but I wasn't about to start raving because of it. It was a fine line to thread on, but I've long mastered it after years of being a fucked up piece of shit whose only thought in the morning was to have coke shoved up my nose.
"You promised me you'll stop this," Rick said from behind me.
"Stop what?"
"Killing yourself."
I paused for a moment before taking another drag from my cigarette.
"I lied."
"I thought you never lie?"
"No, I think lying is unnecessary and not worth the effort. There's a difference."
He sighed. "You're pissing me off."
I gritted my teeth, flicking the cigarette away. "There. Happy?"
"Are you going to stop?"
"No."
"Then I'm not fucking happy."
I curled my hands around the railing, struggling to keep my patience. "What else do I have to fucking do to make myself enough for you, huh? I'm bending over backwards trying to give you the things that you want, but it's still not fucking enough."
"You're more than enough for me."
I scoffed. "Then why can't you be fucking satisfied with what I am?"
"Well, I'm fucking sorry if caring about your well being makes you feel unappreciated!"
I closed my eyes briefly, taking in a calming breath. "If we're going to fight, I'll just go."
"No. Fuck that. Running away every time there's a problem solves nothing, Angel. Stop being such a fucking coward."
God, he was driving me crazy.
"Let's fuck this out then."
"We've been doing that for hours. Hasn't solved anything either," he spat, so pissed off I had no idea why.
"Better than nothing." I shrugged, dropping the towel and facing him. "Let's fuck."
His face soured and he took a step back when I reached for him.
"Fuck yourself."
"Just what are you on?" I snapped "Why are you bitching on me right now?"
"Because you're being treated like some cattle to be sold to the highest bidder and you don't even care!"
I sighed, the sudden rise of my temper heading for a nosedive.
"Caring won't change a damn thing. At least by not caring, I won't be miserable."
"You deserve better, Angel. That's what pisses me off so much. You deserve so much more than this," he said in frustration.
"Maybe, but I'm still marrying him though. I already had a dress fitting last week."
His face hardened, a pure look of fury in his face surfacing. I turned away before it could give rise to my own dormant fury. I heard him hit something, but I didn't bother to look and just focused on the overlooking view of the bay.
"When is it happening?"
I sighed, licking my lips as I craved for a drink. "Twenty-seventh of December. They've already planned the whole thing. Andre and I just have to do as we're told."
He scoffed. "I don't assume I'll be receiving an invite?"
I managed to smile. "You might as well just kill me now, than make me swear a lifetime to another man with you watching."
"Have you slept with him?"
I probably should have taken offense at the accusation but I didn't. How could I?
"It's written on our prenup agreement that we are only required to have sex once, to consummate the marriage. We can opt for surrogacy or artificial insemination to reproduce. The rest is left under our discretion. As long as we present ourselves as husband and wife in public, we can do whatever we want."
"So what? You're just going to marry him, pop a few kids, and then you live the rest of your life listening to him sleep with your mother in the room next door?"
"Seems bearable."
"And where am I in all this? Does this end after you get married?"
"Like I said, throw me away or keep me. Up to you."
"What if I want more?" he pressed.
"I've been perfectly clear, haven't I? You're welcome to pursue relationships with other people and if you find someone that can give you the things I never will, I say go for it," I forced myself to say.
"No, that's not what I meant," he said, his voice low. "What if I want more from you?"
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. "Rick, you know I–"
"If you had a choice, whether to live an unhappy life with him or be with me, which one would you choose?"
I gritted my teeth. "You. Of course, you. Always."
"Then why not do it, baby?" he asked, standing so close my back was pressed against his chest. "Why not choose me?"
I let out a harsh breath. "I can't."
"Do you really want this for yourself?"
"It doesn't matter what I want."
"It's your life, Angel."
"And I couldn't give less shit."
He blew out a sharp breath as he leaned his forehead against the back of my head.
"Give me your hand."
"Why?"
"Because I want to hold it."
I bit my lip, tightening my grip on the railing.
"Let me hold you while I still can," he murmured softly.
I sighed, letting my hand slide off the railing and holding it out for him. The moment our skin made contact, I felt my strength crumble. When he put his fingers in between the spaces of mine and gripped my hand tightly, I nearly shattered.
I took in a necessary breath, casting away my emotions and shutting everything down. I had to, or else I would have let it win.
"Why is it that every time I try to hold you, you always slip through my fingers?" he murmured, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb. "Why can't I just have you and not have to lose you over and over again? It's not fair."
"That's the idea of life."
He sighed, his arms suddenly coming around me as he embraced me tightly. I closed my eyes, letting myself lean against him, feeling the harsh beating of his heart stomping against his chest. His hot breath on my skin. His bare torso burning me from the outside in. It was so simple, standing there. And yet it felt so much more. More than what I was supposed to feel. It was never supposed to feel like this.
"Don't marry him," he pleaded in a hush voice.
This was the first time he's actually said that. He's made it clear that he wanted me to be with him, but he never outright asked me to break off the engagement.
"I will never fall in love with him. That's the only thing I can give you."
"How sure are you?"
"I've never allowed myself to fall in love someone before," I murmured, looking up at him. "I'm not starting with him. He doesn't deserve my love. But you do."
"Do you love me then?"
It was a simple question. One that demanded an easy yes or no answer. But still, the content of that question was overwhelming. The mere thought of loving someone, not just him but anyone at all, was overwhelming.
"I loved my father with all my heart when I was a child, I did. Especially my mother. I thought by loving them and giving them everything that I had, they'd love me back. They didn't. It broke me. Even now, no matter how much pain they've caused me, I still want them to love me. It's fucked up, but I can't stop. Jude told me when I love I never stop, I hate that he might be right."
I turned to face him, taking his hand and pressing it to my bare chest.
"I care for you, I cherish you, and I desire you, but I don't love you. I can't," I said, ignoring how his eyes faltered. "I can't love again the way I loved them. It would kill me."
He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to mine. "This is all I can get then?"
"I'm sorry."
He opened his eyes, a small sad smile on his lips. "Why did I have to meet you?"
I chuckled. "I could ask you the same question."
* * *
I held the four boxes of Krispy Kreme by my hip as I pushed the front door open. Almost immediately, I was greeted by a horde of rowdy kids running around the living room. Rambunctious laughter could be heard from the kitchen and the backyard was blasting lively music throughout the house.
Mindy strolled inside, her eyes permanently glued to her phone, the repetitive clacking of her nails becoming so damn infuriating. She dropped her backpack by the door and kicked her flats off as she headed to the stairs. I grabbed one and flung it at her, hitting the back of her head.
"Red!" she shrieked, whirling around to glare at me.
"Who do you think you are? Pick up your shit."
She groaned, grabbing her bag and flats from the floor before stomping her way up the stairs while tapping furiously at her phone.
"Who do you fucking text all the time?!"
"They're called friends, you psycho!" she fired back before slamming her bedroom door shut.
"She was just with them and now she's texting them, but I'm the psycho?" I sighed, taking a step aside and cocking my head. "Come in, babe."
Rick stepped inside, eyeing the humble four bedrooms and two baths house of the de Rossi's. I shut the door and toed my boots off. The kids bounded towards me excitedly.
"Zietta!" they greeted.
I leaned down, letting each of them kiss my cheeks.
"Sorry I'm late. Princess Mindy was being a pain the ass. Donuts?"
I held up the boxes for them and they squealed, grabbing at me with their little hands.
"Ehi! Ehi! Quelli sono i miei!" (Hey! Hey! Those are mine!) I heard Mikey yell as he rolled his wheelchair towards us.
I handed them a box and they ran back to the living room. Mikey snatched the rest of the boxes from me, scowling.
"I said three. It's already seven! How can we go to cemetery now?"
My point exactly. Every time I took him to his Maria's grave, he'd just cry until he couldn't fucking breathe.
I rolled my eyes. "Stop yelling. You're gonna pop an artery."
He huffed, his eyes sliding over to Rick. "What's this?"
"This is Rick."
"I said what not who."
"He's a person and he's with me," I bit out, stomping a foot on the wheel of his chair. "Problem?"
He shrugged, opening the top box of donuts and taking out a piece.
"No."
And then the idiot wheeled away from me.
"We're going to church after dinner!" he called over his shoulder.
I caught MJ walking towards us with a look of disapproval on his face.
"I told you no donuts," he chided.
"And let him bitch about it all night?"
"And I wonder why you're his favorite child," he muttered dryly, pecking my lips with a kiss in greeting.
"Did he take his meds?"
"Had to shove my hand in his damn throat." He tilted his head towards Rick, grinning. "But what do we have here?" he said, chuckling. "Nonna! Red brought a date!"
I punched his arm. "Jackass."
"Date? Is it the blonde again? I don't want that girl here! Make her leave!"
"It's a man, nonna!" MJ yelled back.
"A man?!"
Marcela de Rossi bolted out of the kitchen and towards me, an ear to ear grin on her lips. Her heavy stomps on the floor made me fear for the ground.
"Red!"
I cringed. "Nonna…"
She slapped me upside the head when she reached me.
"Where have you been, hm? You didn't come home last night or this morning. I was worried!" she chided, hitting me again.
"I needed to deal with some shit. Siamo spiacenti, nonna," I mumbled apologetically.
I lowered my head and let her smack her lips on my cheeks. She muttered something about how pale and cold my skin was while pulling at my cheeks. I groaned.
"Stop it," I grumbled, moving away from her as she groped me.
She huffed. "Did you bring tomatoes?"
She always asked for tomatoes.
I took the paper bag Rick was carrying and handed it to her. She beamed, peering into the bag before looking up at me. She was barely five feet tall but what she lacked in height, she made up for charm.
"Dio vi benedica, bambino." (God bless you, child)
I winked. "Ha già fatto." (He already did)
She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Let me see this man."
She glanced at Rick, and then she shamelessly raked her eyes over him. Her grin turned sly.
"Good looking man. Good looking babies they will be. Good. Good," she said, nodding appreciatively.
I groaned while MJ snickered beside me. She gestured for Rick to lower his head and he obliged uncertainly. And then she smacked her lips on his cheeks, branding him with her bright red lipstick. Rick tried not to cringe.
"Welcome to the family," she said, giggling. A seventy something woman giggling cuz of this pretty blue eyed schmuck.
I groaned again. "Nonna…"
"Shoo. Put your things in the bucket and set the table," she said, walking away from us.
I sighed, glaring at MJ who kept snickering at my expense. I took out the knife from my back pocket and threw it in the bucket placed beside the door. It already had two guns and five knives in it.
"All of it, Red!" I heard Nonna yell from the kitchen.
I rolled my eyes and bent over to get the knife tucked into my boot along with the brass knuckles and a roll of steel wire in the inside pocket of my jacket. I shrugged at Rick's wide eyed stare.
"Let's go. I'll introduce you," MJ said, slinging his arm over Rick's shoulder. "Tutti! Red ha un amico ragazzo! Lui è un medico!" (Everyone! Red has a boyfriend! He's a doctor!)
Rick looked back at me as if asking for help. I chuckled and just marched towards the kitchen. I was greeted with pecks on the cheeks and Nonna handing me an armful of plates.
"They're fucking heavy!" I complained.
"Did Jesus complain when he was carrying the cross for our sins, bambino?"
I rolled my eyes. She always used her fucking Jesus.
"No one fucking asked him to."
She glared. "Apparecchiare la tavola." (Set the table.)
I smiled sheepishly. "Si, Signora." (Yes, Ma'am.)
She whipped my ass with a dishtowel and I hurriedly went out of the kitchen. Everyone was already seated around the various tables set up all over the backyard, bombarding Rick with questions while speaking mostly in Italian. His head jerked up when he caught sight of me and I just offered him a wink as I went around setting the tables.
"Are you Catholic?" I heard one of the aunties ask him.
"Uh... Jewish."
They stared at him before drawing their gazes to me.
I shrugged. "The fuck you want me to do? Baptize him?"
"My Mom is a Catholic?" Rick offered uncertainly.
I heard sighs of relief at that. I laughed inwardly, listening to them badger him with questions about his family and where he was from as I carried on handing out the plates. When he was getting swallowed whole by the de Rossi invasion bit by bit, I decided to step in.
"Alright, that's enough," I cut in, walking towards him and settling myself on his lap. "Nonna, siamo affamati!" (Grandma, we're hungry!)
Nonna came out carrying a large bowl of pasta along with Paulie who brought out a variety of dishes. Mikey blessed the food and we started passing platters. I set his plate for him, knowing that he'd end up with high cholesterol by the end of the night if I didn't.
Everyone settled in light chatter as they ate, throwing banters back and forth and sharing a good laugh. Mikey was being the stubborn shithead that he was and kept sneaking a bite from his donuts every time he thought I wasn't looking. I took the donuts away and he threatened to kick me out, like he always did. I just rolled my eyes.
"Eat your vegetables," I ordered.
He scoffed. "Who do you think you are orderin' me around like I'm some kid! I fought for this country! I des-"
"Shut up," I cut in, throwing a piece of bread at him. "Eat your fucking vegetables or I'm shoving them down your throat."
He grumbled something under his breath but obliged, stabbing a forkful of vegetables and shoving them in his mouth. I felt Rick's arm wrap around my stomach, pulling me closer to him. I looked over at him and he offered a smile before placing a kiss on my cheek.
"What?"
"Nothing."
I eyed him for a moment, but he merely smiled before turning to MJ who sat beside us and talking about some basketball game.
I glanced around the tables and caught Nonna looking at us. She grinned, blowing me a kiss. I made a face and just tended to my plate.
Mindy was taking pictures of everyone. When the camera settled on me, I froze. Literally. Only managing to close my eyes and hide from the glare of the flash.
"Aw come on, Red! You closed your eyes!" she whined.
"Fuck off," I bit out, dropping my head and feigning to eat.
"Just one picture!"
"No."
"Come on!"
"I said no, Miranda," I said sharply, jolting my head up to glare at her.
I didn't realize I had risen my voice till I noticed everyone had grown quiet and were staring at me. I sighed, rubbing my palms over my face.
"I'm sorry."
I got up and went back inside the house before anyone tried to tell me it was okay. It was not. Being terrified and panicking because of a camera was not fucking okay. Being traumatized because of something so small was not okay. I was not fucking okay. I was damaged from the feet up and I had the scars to show it.
I went to the kitchen, splashing my face with water to calm myself. It was just one fucking picture and yet I acted as if I had been violated so aggressively. It was shameful and I was getting pissed off.
"You okay?" I heard Rick ask from behind me as I stood by the sink.
The irony of his question made me laugh.
"When am I ever?"
He sighed and I sensed him come closer to me. He placed his hands on my arms, rubbing up and down as he pressed kisses on my shoulder. The gesture was strangely calming. Or perhaps it was just him.
"You hate being photographed," he suddenly said.
I stiffened and he placed a gentle kiss on my shoulder as if to remedy it. I relaxed again.
"Why?"
"Photographers used to chase me around everywhere I went when I was in high school. It's only gotten worse ever since that picture of me in a coma got splastered all over the country." I sighed, massaging my forehead. "Every time someone puts a camera in my face, I feel like pissing myself."
"I remember that, the picture."
He took my hand, brushing his thumb over the faint scars on my wrist. I flinched.
"Ever since I found out what really happened, I keep wondering why you looked the way you did in the picture even though you weren't in an accident. I thought maybe you were in a fight and just let the other person beat you to a pulp, but that doesn't really make sense. I've seen your scars. I've felt them. Someone who could do that to themselves wouldn't put their lives at the mercy of someone else and hearing you talk about death, it's a privilege for you to take your own life. So I keep trying to figure it out and I keep remembering that picture and I keep thinking, only someone so vicious and cruel would do that to another person. But knowing you, you'd never take a beating laying down, so you were either passed out while that fight was happening or you didn't want to fight. See, you're the most violent, arrogant, and short-tempered person I know but at the same time, you're also the most selfless and loyal. You would do anything for the people in your life, even the ones who treat you like shit. They can tear you apart and you'll just put yourself back together and let them do it again."
He grasped my jaw, tilting my head to make me look at him, his eyes filled with grave fury.
"Did Anthony do that to you?"
I swallowed, panic embroiling in my chest and I immediately thought of the lie I had told Andrea when she refused to believe I'd ever crash my car while drunk, claiming that I was too smart to do something so stupid. And then she started getting suspicious and somehow realized that every time I was around my father, I would always show up the next day with bruises.
"My great-grandfather laid out specific rules that everyone in the family is obliged to follow, even the Head of the Family. Breaking any one of them is grounds for disownment. Spilling the blood or threatening the life of a relative is one of them." I swallowed, curling my hands into fists. "As for who did that to me, I went fighting a few days before my attempt. I was too wasted and got myself beaten too badly."
I took a deep breath, turning my head away, unable to look him in the eye any longer.
"And I was going through, to this day, the worst withdrawal episode I've ever experienced. It wasn't enough that I had almost gotten the life beaten out of me, I was also suffering from pneumonia and experiencing terrifying hallucinations of rats eating my flesh. So yeah, that's why I tried to kill myself. Not cuz Daddy gave me a hiding." I snorted, looking at him. "I'm not nearly as tragic as you think, just fucked up beyond all repair."
He was looking at me intently, absorbing the information filled with half truths and bitter lies. I wished so badly he'd believe it. If he knew the truth.... if my reality was thrown at his feet, I don't think I could ever have the courage to face him again knowing that he knew what a worthless bastard I was. That the girl he looked at as if she was the most beautiful fucking thing he's ever seen was truly nothing but scum. That underneath the illusion of a fearless and exciting girl who made him feel alive was someone so fucking pathetic.
He already knew I was a whore who'd fuck anyone on command.