Page 47 of Mafia King
She spins to face me, eyes wide. “Was it that he’s Cosimo Orolio’s son?” Before I can deny that’s what I heard, but confirm the truth of it, she spins back to the mirror and continues. “They’re not speaking, and Dami’s so, so sad about it. He wants to get back in his father’s graces and I’m like… can you imagine it, Violetta?” She fluffs her hair and puckers to herself. “If it works out and he gets to be boss of his father’s business, I’ll be just like you!”
“Don’t you remember what it was like for me?”
“I do! But it happened so fast for you. We’ll take our time. Have a real… aahh…” Her face goes blank as she looks for the word. “What’s the word forcorteggiamento?”
“Courtship.”
“Right. We’ll go to the other side and get all the things we need for the wedding, like people do and…” Her face goes sympathetic. “Oh, I know what this is about.” She faces me and takes my hands. “I know you didn’t get a realcorteggiamento, Violetta. Or the wedding, or the shopping. Please don’t feel jealous. I’d die if you resented me.”
I can’t help but be a little resentful that she thinks I’m jealous. “It’s just a date.”
She looks as if I slapped her. I’m not supposed to be pushing her into a corner. I’m supposed to be getting her out of the room she’s trapped in, and I’m about to backtrack and say it could be something. Anything. If she wants the wedding, she should have it…but if she doesn’t?
“Violetta!” Paola stands in the doorway wearing a dress that could have come out of my closet the day after my wedding.
“Mammà!” Gia cries. “Do you like it?” She indicates her outfit, but Paola’s already pecking each of my cheeks.
“Where did you go on Sunday?” she asks. “You didn’t stay for cards.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t feel great.”
She takes a quick glance down—at my belly—and I freeze. Does she see something? Am I carrying Santino’s baby?
Stop it.
Anette, the woman of the house, greets me as family even though we’ve only met once, then she rushes downstairs to put on a pot of water. We all follow.
“So, feeling better?” Paola asks in the stairwell, managing to look at my face, not at my midsection even though she’s a few steps below me. I decide her last meaningful glance wasn’t meaningful at all.
“I think it’s the vacation-itis. Now that I’m back in that big house, it gets a little lonely sometimes. You know Santino… always so busy.”
“He’s a workaholic,” Gia commiserates kindly. “You should come over more.”
“I might come over here and kidnap you to keep me company,” I say when we’re all in the kitchen.
Paola stiffens at the word kidnap. Our eyes meet. She must know how it went for me, and I can only attribute her reaction to concern for her own daughter.
“He’s good to you though?” Paola asks.
The wrong answer will have repercussions. If it’s great with him, then Gia will take that as a sign that forced marriage turns out okay. If it’s terrible, I’ll insult my husband and become the object of pity and possibly scorn for my inability to manage being his wife.
I don’t want to screw this up with a badly-told lie either. I don’t want to ruin anyone’s day and I don’t want anyone to steal Gia’s life. It’s a delicate line I’m not sure I can properly straddle, but dammit, if Santino can make all these people eat out of his hands and I can make him do what I want, then surely I have some competence.
The teapot whistles like an alarm. Time’s up. Answer now or change the subject. Anette shuts the heat and gets out a box of Lipton and cups.
“It was hard at first, no lie.” I check to see who’s paying attention and who isn’t. Anette’s a casual observer. Gia—who was there to see how hard it was for me—retrieves the sugar with half an eye on me. Paola, though, is hanging on my every word. It’s her daughter who’s being traded. “I’m still not sure what I’m doing, kind of. Am I going back to school? Do I want to? And getting used to living with someone… a man. Well, that has its own… demands.”
Paola nods with grave understanding.
“But it’s Santi!” Gia chimes in, talking about him as if he’s a puppy.
“Is he nice with you?” Paola adds. She can be an ally in this, if I can give her enough of a reason.
“I got lucky with him.” I match her gravity, but I’m not sure I’m as lucky as I claim. “I don’t think everyone gets to marry a Santino DiLustro.”
“He’s lucky he ended up with someone so beautiful and smart like you,” Gia pipes in, glancing at the clock, then dropping teabags in cups of steaming water before she looks at the clock again. “So many women see the cars and the suits and his handsome face and just want his money. It’s so nice to see him with someone who understands him, not someone who uses him.”
I never had a choice,I want to say, but don’t.
