by Blue Saffire
Maria wasn’t unpleasant to look at, at all. She’s a tall woman, not thin, but not fat either. Her skin sun tanned and hair dyed blonde with brown highlights. Her eyes light blue, almost grey, with mascara assisted eyelashes.
Maria always wore a lot of makeup, but I’d bet she was pretty even without it. At that moment, though, the wrinkles at her eyes looked more pronounced than usual.
It was then that I saw Maria so differently. I felt bad for her, no matter what she had done in the past. I realized she was human. She deserved better than what was happening to her. She started to speak again, once she had control of the sobbing.
“You have been dancing your other life in front of my face for almost as long as we have been married. I’ve held this one as a baby. I cried as I held her, because I couldn’t give you children of our own, not knowing she was your very own.
“I wasn’t sure at first, but as the years passed by and she became older, I could see you all in her face. Yet…you still denied the truth and…I believed you…I needed to believe you,” she just trailed off into thought.
I watched and listened to the side of the other woman, the wife. Maria stood up and tossed the glass vase from the center of the table at my father’s head. She just missed.
The glass mashed against the wall next to the door. The water from the vase slapped against my father’s back. The flowers that were in it fell to the floor. He stepped forward to grab her, but she pushed him away.
“You will fix this, you will fix this! Just like I watched Lakeisha be a mother when I couldn’t, she will know that pain. I see the way you two look at each other and the way you two are with your children.
“Yes, I know the boy is yours too. She will watch, as her daughter becomes mine. I will no longer be robbed of my motherhood, not by you, not by anyone anymore,” she said that and turned to me in silence. Her words made this all sound deeper than what was happening at the moment.
The tears were flowing like a river. We just looked in each other’s eyes. For the first time, I felt like I understood the way Maria saw me. She wasn’t mad at all, at least, not the way I thought.
When she looked at me she not only saw the truth, but what she wanted for her own. What she did not have. It hurt to think of someone having so much pain.
Maria meant every word she spoke that day. She motioned for me to follow her, as she pushed her way past my father. My father looked as if he’d just been read a death sentence. I watched him raise his hand to reach for me, but then it dropped back to his side.
We walked pass the diners and right out the front door of the restaurant, never looked back for a second. I could feel my mother watch me walk out the door. My wish was that her heart was hurting, the way my face did.
She could have stopped my father somehow. Said something to make what he thought happened not be so. She could have gotten him to talk to me first, anything.
Maria and I walked to the back parking lot for the staff and customers. We got into her brand new red Range Rover. Another one of my father’s typical guilt gifts.
At this point, it looks like she was on her way to a brand new Bentley. Maria was silent for a bit as we pulled off. She grabbed the cigarettes from the dash and lit one. She held the cigarette in my direction.
“You smoke yet?” she asked.
I made a disgusted face and replied, “No!”
I couldn’t believe she even offered. Maria pulled the cigarette back her way and looked at it. Without another thought she put down her window and plucked it out.
“I guess I have all the answers I was trying to get from these now,” she said, as she tossed the rest of the pack out of the window as well.
After that we just rode in silence. I tried to wrap my mind around all that had happened. Then I began to think about how I was on my way to someplace I have only dreamed about. I had never been to my father’s house before that day. I have always dreamed of what it would be like.
Wondering things like, was it as big as the one he bought us? Was there a room there just for me that my father hoped to see me in? Where exactly did he live in the first place?
These were all answers I was sure to receive soon. I was excited and uneasy. I didn’t know what to do with myself.
After an hour, we pulled up to an enormous iron gate. It was adorned with gold dipped iron Ls surrounded by black iron spokes. In that instant, I knew his house was much nicer than the one I lived in and that is saying a whole lot.
Our house was far from some tiny shack or just some mini mansion for that matter. The house my father bought my mother was in a gated community. However, the home he lived in was on gated property all to itself.
I watched as Maria pushed a button by the visor and the gates swung open. We started up through a row of trees on a stone paved road. After about a half a mile the trees opened up to the most beautiful home, an estate like I had never seen before. Four large white marble columns held up the thick slab triangle covering.
Under the covering, sat a double doorway the size of four single doorways. The doors were frosted glass panels that looked seamless. The double doors were flanked with more glass panels that held large Ls, inlaid in an intricate frosted design.
There was a huge fountain in the center of the driveway, in front of the house. The fountain had a woman that looked like some type of goddess, holding up a pot on her right shoulder. Water spilled out of the pot, down her right side. It was so beautiful. I tried counting the windows, but gave up quickly. There were way too many just on the first floor of the house.
Maria cut the engine taking a deep breath, before looking over at me. “Victoria, I want you to make this your home as much as it is mine. We won’t be spending much of our time at the restaurant anymore.”
I looked at her, not sure what I felt about what had happened or what she was saying. “Okay,” I just replied.
Maria continued. “I wanted to adopt for years and your father refused. I’ve watched you grow up wanting to be your mother, knowing deep in my heart who you were. Now, I don’t need to adopt and I don’t need to want to be your mother, because I am.”
She paused and turned to look out of the windshield. She sucked in a long breath. “I’m sorry about all the things I’ve said and done in the past. It was very wrong of me to take my anger out on yous children. I do want you to forgive me, and from now on, I want you to call me your mother. I know you’re old enough to know what is going on here.”
She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed for a little while. I could feel the tears burn down my own cheeks as well. I had wanted my mother to hurt, but I knew this was way more than I wanted.
Maria meant to destroy. She knew how much my mother loved me. We were very close to one and other, everyone could see that.
Maria also knew Venny would do anything to make her happy at that point, he was sure to grant her this. I had the feeling he had no choice. As if Maria could end life as he knew it, if she really wanted to.
Beyond his secret family, beyond the money, Maria held cards that I didn’t understand yet, but I knew she held them. He would have to watch his precious part time family be torn apart. As I sat and truly grasped Maria’s intentions, I swallowed hard.
My own tears made swallowing very hard to do. Just then, I realized my life had changed forever. I was no longer a secret.
I had turned into something else. A pawn in a game that I didn’t say I wanted to play. One thing was for sure, I had no idea at that time I was a pawn in a larger game, for far longer than Maria or I had known.
chapter Three
Lorenzo
Lorenzo Botticelli
How could this happen? I don’t believe it. That was all I could think as I sat in my car, in the mall parking lot. What did I just do?
I mean, it was very stupid for me to call my father and say what I did. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was just so…so shocked and angry. Just the thought of the whole thing made me punch the steering wheel.
“Damn!” I screamed, glad I was alone. My stupid friends were still in the mall, thinking I was upset because the beautiful caramel skinned girl and her friend rejected me. If only I were so lucky.
I knew exactly who she was, the birthmark, the dark skin and the too perfect Italian that shouldn’t have come from those lips. Sixteen, turning seventeen in a month. It took the birthmark to really make all the clues fit, but once I saw it I know exactly who she was.
The girl I was supposed to marry, not by choice, but because my family says so. It didn’t make sense. I should’ve been happy to meet her and to be so drawn to her. She was gorgeous, breathtaking. It wasn’t fair, I wanted her, but not if they wanted me to. I couldn’t be so attracted to her.
I was running from this, I thought to myself. All the trouble I was causing my family was keeping me from this. The girlfriends I would bring home and pretend to be so in love with.
Wrecking car after car, in hopes my father would take me to be too irresponsible for all his plans. Shutting down the last six months, not speaking to anyone, praying this would all go away. But there she was, more beautiful than I had ever expected and drawing me in with that beauty.
What choice did I have but to call my father and tell him I’d seen her? Only thing was, I lied, not about seeing her, but about her. I told my father that she was not Botticelli material.
I painted a picture of a loose girl with no manners. I said everything I could to get my father to cut the charade he was playing. This game, I had no intentions of playing.
I will not let my future be predetermined for the sake of blood and money. I didn’t want what the families wanted. I won’t do what they want.
I was no stranger to what I grew up in. I had it all, the homes, money, cars, clothes, but it came with a price. My father was supposed to be in the wine business; that was funny.
My father was into squeezing, but grapes weren’t the only things he pressed. I was so used to all the drama that it was a null point in my life now. I was the heir to one of the most powerful families, second only to the La Marcellos.
I have seen things no decent parents would expose their children to. It was all repulsing to me. My father would try to explain that it was my place to know the family business. I wanted no parts of it, I would tune him out any chance I got.
I wonder, did she know who I was or about this stupid arrangement at all? Probably not, from what I know, her father keeps her pretty sheltered. I have only heard stories about her and what she looks like.
I met her father officially for the first time last year, when our fathers met to discuss the agreement. Mr. La Marcello was insistent on meeting and talking to me. He wanted to know I was as good a kid as I seemed from a distance.
Kid, that’s how they see me. That’s why they think they can control my life. At the time, I didn’t think they were serious about their plans.
Especially, the way my dad went on and on about her not being his legitimate daughter. I was sure that was my out. However, once Mr. La Marcello talked with me and shook my hand, I was dismissed from the meeting by my dad.
Later in the car, my dad informed me that he had seen pictures. He gave me a detailed description and told me she wouldn’t disappoint me. Somehow, her illegitimacy was canceled out and the plans were stronger than ever.
I was desperate when I called him. I didn’t know what to do. By the time, I was off the phone and made up my mind to look for her, to talk to her again, she was gone.
Now, I am sitting here feeling pretty stupid. My father sounded a little more furious than I was looking for. I just wanted to get out of this mess, not start a war. I had been banking on finding a way out of this before next year. I was scheduled to meet her on her eighteenth birthday. That just sounds disgusting.
I needed to get out of the parking lot and fast. I stabbed the button for the ignition and started the car. Then, I raced out of the parking lot and headed straight for home. I need to talk to my father. I want to know what the things I said had done.
Was there a way to change what was said? Maybe he just wrote them off like everything else I have done in the past year. I didn’t know why it mattered to me, but it did. I needed to know that I didn’t ruin the chance to meet her again. I needed to know I still had that option.
I pulled my C350 into the driveway of our estate. I almost jumped out of the car before turning it off. My little sister stood in the doorway with my mother, as I jogged up the stairs.
“Hey, munchkin, dov'è il fuoco?” I asked, as I hugged my sister, Lucie. Then, I kissed my mother, who seemed to be in an extra hurry.
Lucie rolled her eyes and grinned. “Mamma dimenticare che avevo balletto pratica.”
Just like my mother. It didn’t matter that Lucie had been taking ballet for three years, at the same school, on the same days, and at the same time. Mom forgot all the time.
This was great news. I would get to talk to my father one on one. At least, as one on one as you got with Mr. Botticelli.
I know my mother knows some things, but I’m not sure how much. The women in the family weren’t really involved in things so much. Mom pretty much goes along with whatever my father tells her.
As they rushed out the door pass me, I ran into my father’s study. Uncle Fredo and Uncle Michael were standing in the room with him as usual. He stood up the moment he saw me enter. I stayed away from this study so much lately, I had almost forgotten what it looked like.
The mahogany built in shelves on the wall behind my dad’s desk, were filled with tons of books. I don’t believe there’d be room for one more. The shelves that flanked the door were just as full.
On the right side of my father’s desk was a wall that held a huge family portrait. In the center of the office, sat my father’s large mahogany desk, with his leather studded winged desk chair. Two identical smaller versions sat in front of the desk. The room would have been a dark one, if not for the recess lighting my mother had put in when we bought the place.
“Come in, son,” my father greeted me, “I was just talking about you.”
He seemed in a good mood that was a good sign. Sometimes I’d swear the whole arranged marriage thing seemed to bother him just as much as it bothers me. Yet, he continued to push it, much to my annoyance.
“Hey, dad,” I said as I sat in one of the black leather chairs that faced the desk.
“I spoke to Venny after our talk this afternoon. I wanted to assure you that things were taken care of.”
His tone was a little smug. I wasn’t sure I liked where this was going. I eyed him suspiciously as he spoke those words with such arrogance. I wasn’t in the mood to play around with the subject, so I was direct.
“What does that mean?”
My father sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “Venny had a little talk with his daughter.” I hear Uncle Fredo chuckle in the corner. “I guess it was more than a talk,” my father continued. “I don’t think she’ll be in anyone’s mall acting like street trash again.”
As he said those words I could feel the anger rising. Though they were my very own words from this afternoon, I was enraged to hear them come out of his mouth directed at her. What had I done? She did nothing out of the way this afternoon.
I thought it was cute to see she was so innocent and sort of awkward as she spoke to me. It was as if she was trying to be confident, but still shy at the same time. I could tell she wasn’t much for talking to boys.
I was probably the first she tried to talk to in that manner, from the looks of it. Not to mention, what I’ve heard of Venncesso La Marcello. I don’t think she has ever had a chance before.
Besides, what did my father mean, more than a talk? Had I gotten her in trouble? That was not my intention.
I felt sick to my stomach. I had overreacted and it looked like she had to pay for that. Great, me and my big mouth. From the looks of things, all my lies hadn’t gotten me closer to ending the ridiculous idea of me marrying a girl I barely knew. I ha
d just gone and gotten her in trouble.
“Son, are you alright?” If only my dad knew, I was nowhere near alright.
I just shook my head, hoping to rid myself of the sick feeling. “Yeah, I just think maybe I exaggerated about Victoria earlier. She was very sweet, I think I was being innovative with my description to you.”
I could tell my father caught onto what I meant. I had seen it in the way his face changed. He turned bright red and the black hair on his head looked like it stood up on its own.
His smoke grey eyes turned to grey steel. I could trace the fumes coming from his scalp with a pen. I stood up, ready to sprint, but my father wasn’t having that.
“You sit down, right now you, little punk,” he hissed through his teeth. My father never talked to me like that. I know I got poor Victoria in trouble.
“Do you have any idea the trouble you’ve caused that family!” he shouted at me. “Venny was half drunk when he called me back. His wife now knows the truth about those children and she is going to make his life hell, Lorenzo. He hit that poor girl! If you’re telling me that I called Venny with a lie, another of your stupid games… I’m a bit sick of this. This is not just about you! Where in the world do you get this from…,” he continued. I stopped listening after he said Venny hit Victoria.
My heart was hurting. All I wanted was to find her and make sure she was okay. Then I wanted to find Venny and hit him.
How could I fix this? I knew I wasn’t supposed to meet her for another year, but I had to see her. I wanted to tell her it was my fault and that I would do anything she wanted to make it right.
I wanted to run my fingers through her long chocolate hair, look in those hazel eyes, and say how sorry I was for being an idiot. I needed to wrap my hands around her waist and hold her to make sure she felt safe. Fuck, how did this happen?
One stupid trip to the mall and I not only ruined any chance of me not ever seeing this girl, but all I wanted was to be with her. I have hurt her and I still don’t know her. This shit is unreal.
