Cyprian the Fair

by C. L. Cattano

  He paused for a moment to gather himself. “Brettito was hit in his stomach, chest, neck, and head,” he continued softly. “If the bullets had been lower, or at a different angle, Rafaella would have died too. The bullet that grazed Rafaella came through the side of his stomach and put a small wound on her arm. You can’t even see it now. She was knocked back away from the angle of the shots when Brettito fell back into her. It’s the only reason she was not hit again. When Rafaella woke, she found herself trapped under him. She struggled to free herself as Brettito’s body bled out on her but, because of his size and her broken arm, she couldn’t lift him. It was how she got covered in so much of his blood and,” he hesitated and felt sick at the memory, “other parts of him. We didn’t know Rafaella was alive until after the shooting had stopped and she started calling Brettito’s name and screaming for help.

  “We were able to get through the crazed crowd and pull her out from under him. She was covered in more blood and gore than she even knew. It smelled terrible and was so thick it was almost black looking.” Gabri looked up at Eden. He had gone slightly pale from the memory. “Two of the zingari boys were dead close by, their blood mingling with Brettito’s. She still has no idea four others died, and many were injured that day from being shot or just trying to get away from the shooting. All the wounded and dead were the reason there was so much blood in the street around her.”

  Still living in the memory, Gabri continued. “We pulled Rafaella from under Brettito. She was covered in his blood, and her eyes were... wild,” he said softly. “She held on to Brettito and just kept screaming. It is a sound I never want to hear again and wish I could forget. The ambulance came to help, and even with a broken arm, it took four of us to calm her and keep her from Brettito’s body so we could get her into the ambulance. Just from touching her, we were all covered in blood.”

  Gabri sat silently for a moment then took a sip of his drink for strength. “She says her father came and got her at the tabacchi, but she was in a trance for a long time after she was put in the ambulance and taken to the hospital. Her father really came to her at the hospital. She thinks she was home for two weeks, but it was really almost ten.”

  Taking another sip of his drink, Gabri gave Eden time to digest his words before sharing another hard memory. “We took her to the funeral for Brettito. Her father had to drag her out because Rafe was frantic. She was trying to tell Brettito’s mother she was sorry, and she had to be restrained. Rafe started running away again thinking that she had caused Brettito’s death. She thought the police would come for her. The police never came, and the guards who were to blame were barely punished. It turned out nothing of real value was taken. If they had just stopped a moment to understand what was taken and see it was just petty zingari thieves, none of it would have happened. The zingari were pushed out of the city, and everything was blamed on the two zingari who were shot,” he said bitterly. It was never mentioned if Brettito was involved with the heist. Gabri was sure he was meant to be a lookout.

  “Ettore decided it would be too much for Rafaella to take if she started wandering the streets and people began talking to her about what had happened. So, as soon as he could, he moved her to Milano and got a doctor there to help her so she wouldn’t run the streets. But she found a way to run them anyway.” Gabri shook his head and smiled sadly at the memory of Rafaella calling and telling him to meet her at the train station and having to call her father to get the money for the train for her return or so he could get to Milano then back to Florence.

  “My god,” said Eden softly as she covered her mouth and tried to comprehend everything Rafe had gone through. Now she understood just how Rafe felt about Gabri, and why she had been so hurt about everything surrounding the insemination and pregnancy. Rafe’s connection to Bronte was more than just Gabri being her friend. He was literally a lifeline for her when she was grieving for the tragedies surrounding her mother and her friend Brettito. No wonder she and Gabri seemed so close when they were together.

  “When she was finally better,” Gabri started again suddenly, “they moved to America so her father could keep her away from everything for a while. They took a trip back to Italy the next year and then came back often since everything was good. We were all happy she was able to cope and have a good life again.”

  Gabri opened the file and pulled out a packet. “When her father was sick, he sent me all the old paperwork and the photographs of Rafaella so she wouldn’t find them when he died.” He looked through the file and handed her three photos. “The one in the middle she has seen. The others she will never see,” Gabri said softly. “So, you see, her not remembering is her mind coping. You just have to remember not to challenge her truth, as long as it will not hurt her.”

  Tears were streaming down Eden’s face at the thought of what Rafe had lived through and the look of pain on Gabri’s face as he spoke. She took the photos from him and examined each one. The middle photograph was a young Rafe sitting on a bed with a bandaged head looking blankly at the camera and Gabri holding a guitar blocking her left arm and looking at Rafe with a smile.

  The photo on the left could only be described as—disturbing. Eden couldn’t look at it long. It looked like a crime scene photo of a very young and unconscious child. It was Rafe in the hospital on a gurney and hooked to medical equipment. It was before she was cleaned up from all the blood and gore covering her from head to foot. Eden felt sick with horror at what she saw in the photo. Knowing it was Rafe laying there made it too painful to look at for long. Attached to it was a newspaper clipping Eden couldn’t read because it was in Italian, but she guessed it was about what had happened.

  Gabri watched Eden look at the photograph with horror and revulsion. “They had to take it,” he said, “in case she died.”

  Shakily, Eden hid the photo under the others. “I had no idea,” she choked out and wiped her tears away. The last picture was of Rafe sleeping at home with her arm in a cast and Gabri lying next to her reading a book.

  “I went to her house every day after school and practiced my music,” Gabri said and tried to smile, “then I helped her with homework until her father moved them away to Milano. Somedays, if she would get out of bed, she only stared at the page or drew in her sketchbook. Other days, she seemed happy and would devour the material and do the work easily,” said Gabri who Eden could see was upset for Rafe.

  “Her father sometimes would bring home gelato, and he would take us to the garden and discuss philosophy and great works. Rafaella’s father wanted to keep her mind busy always, with things she had to concentrate on and ponder. He did this so she would stay with us and not fall into her trance. He knew Rafaella was intelligent from a young age because she always had to know everything and was good in school even when she didn’t go. She was notorious with all her teachers for being truant but somehow getting outstanding marks.”

  He chuckled softly remembering the talks Rafe’s mother had with her about skipping school. “So Ettore, he filled her life with books and information, puzzles and other mental challenges.” He smiled at the memory. “She did all the other challenges on her own. Ettore took her to work with him to keep her safe when she was out of school, so she learned to read blueprints, use his calculator, and even mix cement. Everything he knew, he taught her. But you know all this because of her business.” He paused to see Eden’s reaction and was not surprised she looked stunned. “Did you know she named her business Eroina[8] because of Brettito?”

  Eden couldn’t hide her surprise. “No,” she said softly, “I didn’t know.”

  Gabri knew he couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face at how little this woman knew about Rafaella. He wondered why Rafaella never told her even the story of the name she gave her company. “You will have to ask her about it someday,” he said knowing it was not something he should tell. He knew Rafe would want to be the one to tell it if she decided she wanted Eden to know.

  Someday, if Rafaella told her, then he coul
d tell her how ironic it seemed to him Brettito had called Rafaella Eroina when really it turned out Brettito was the hero in saving her life. “Rafaella’s father showed his appreciation to me many times,” he said changing the subject. “He paid for my education in music, and I would not be here in this home if not for him. He also paid for the education of Brettito’s sister. He felt Brettito sacrificed himself and saved Rafaella, which he did, and he wanted to try and help his family because of what he had done for Rafaella.”

  Eden handed the photos back to Gabri. “She was lucky to have you both,” she said softly.

  “No,” he said softly, “we are lucky to have her. Without her, we are nothing.” Gabri pulled another photo out of the packet and handed it to Eden. “This one is the one I always see when I think of my Rafaella,” he said proudly.

  Eden took the photo and felt the sting of him calling her his Rafaella. Then, after looking at the picture, she looked up at Gabri in surprise. “What’s she doing?”

  Gabri laughed at Eden’s expression. “She is flying,” he said with a wink. “She jumped from her father’s roof to the neighbor’s, and I took the photo. It was the only way we could think of to have her surrounded by the sky and the sunlight.”

  Looking at the photo again, Eden shook her head. It was horrifying to her mothers’ heart, but also beautiful. Rafe’s body was stretched out in the air as if she were running and reaching for something in front of her as her hair flowed behind her. You could make out the smile she had on her face.

  “She looks like she’s happy,” said Eden.

  “Yes,” Gabri agreed, “she loved adventures and challenges. I was very relieved she made it. I did not want to have to explain to her father if anything happened to her. This was a time after Brettito died when it was like she had no fear, and she was very reckless. I worked very hard to keep her safe for her father, and for myself.”

  Eden handed Gabri the photo back. “But why did her father, and now you, want to keep what happened to her a secret?”

  Gabri nodded at her question as he took the photos back, glancing at them for a moment and then putting them back into the file. “She does not even remember wearing a cast on her arm,” he revealed with a shrug. “We show her the pictures where you can’t see the cast,” Gabri paused to gather himself. “In America, it is no good to have these problems, and sometimes the same in Italy. Ettore wanted to protect her life. Also, the fewer people who know, the less likely Rafaella’s memories will be challenged.”

  “Okay,” said Eden, now having a new respect for Rafe’s father. “But why was he so hard on Rafe? Letty said he was horrible to her and blamed her for her mother’s death all the time. Even Julia and her father think he was a tyrant or something.”

  Frowning at what Eden was saying, Gabri sighed and nodded. “It’s hard sometimes for Rafaella and for me to hear bad things said about her father,” he said as he looked around the office at all he had because of him. “Here in Italia, Ettore Salvaggio was a great man. But, in America, it seems everyone hated him. I think they didn’t understand him or were jealous. He was a great businessman and never hesitated to act when he saw an opportunity. He tried to teach what he knew to me, and to Rafaella.”

  He paused for a moment, thinking back to when they were younger, and Rafe was sick. “Rafaella and I always say her father was a great man, but he was not a perfect man. Rafaella was a lot for him, even with help,” he explained. “She was a lot for us all to handle, even before she was sick. She had this energy, and it seemed to keep her in motion all the time. Her mother, before she died, would call her a wild child and she always depended on Brettito and me to tell her if Rafaella was thinking about doing something dangerous. Like jumping off the house.”

  Gabri smiled for a moment remembering a conversation he had with Brettito about Rafe where they were trying to determine if when they called her Eroina, they meant heroine or heroin because of some of the crazy things Rafe found to do making it seem like she was on drugs at times. But they knew she just loved her adventures and always needed to be doing something.

  “It got worse and much more dangerous after her mother and Brettito died. I sometimes wondered if she did those things to prove to herself she was still alive or if she needed to do them to feel something missing in her.” Gabri rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose. “Ettore, he barely had time to grieve, and then he had to watch Rafe go through all those things, then deal with her skipping school and all her adventures and challenges she would do, so he became angry and took it out on her sometimes, and on others. But Rafe found a way to cope with his anger too. She loves her father very much.”

  “I know,” said Eden softly remembering the promise she made to defend Rafe’s father when people talked badly about him.

  Gabri took a deep breath to clear his mind of the past. “Now you understand why you need to go back home and let Rafe get better,” he said and took a sip of his drink. “Everything that happened when she was young, and the things she has gone through since her father got sick then died, has made it very hard for her.”

  Eden shook her head at his words. “I still have things I need to talk with Rafe about. I want her to come home with me.”

  “No,” said Gabri firmly. “She’s come too far. I don’t know if you understand how hard it was to get her to where she is now. I told you, we had to challenge her memory about New York, and I want to be sure all her progress is not taken away.”

  “I want to help her too,” said Eden. “I went to New York,” she confessed. “I know she didn’t have an affair. I’m not going to let her or anyone else think she did anymore.”

  “Good,” said Gabri, glad she had found out the truth for herself. “Rafe will be glad you know the truth.”

  “I told her,” she said instantly. “I told her I don’t believe she had an affair.”

  “I’m glad you did,” said Gabri. He pulled another photo from the file and handed it to Eden. “Do you recognize this?”

  Eden looked at the photo and saw a very young Rafe standing in front of a fireplace. “It’s Rafe,” she said. “It looks like she’s in her father’s apartment in New York.”

  “That’s right,” he confirmed. “The doctor and I have a theory about how Rafe came to manifest the woman she believed she had an affair with when she visited New York.”

  “A theory?” repeated Eden.

  “Yes, you see the real Lauren Street told me about Rafe burning a painting in that fireplace,” he said, motioning to the photo. “We think the copper lipstick she describes came from the copper panels below the mantle. The white clothes are possibly from the white marble or the bust on the mantle.”

  Eden pulled the photo closer and saw the bust in question. It was of a man with ruffles running down from his collar. She wasn’t sure what to say so she stayed silent.

  “As far as the skin color of this mystery woman,” Gabri continued, “we think it can be explained by the black smoke from the burning painting. It’s all theory, but we think it makes sense.”

  Eden nodded her agreement. “It does make sense now,” she conceded and handed Gabri the photo. “Does she know about your theory?”

  “She does,” said Gabri. “She is convinced of her innocence more and more, but there is more she needs to work through.” He put the photo away then leaned his arms on the desk. He now needed to make sure Eden would not undermine all the progress Rafe had made. “I don’t think Rafaella is ready to go back to America or to be pressured by you about your relationship.”

  “I need to hear it from Rafe,” Eden said defiantly, working to hide her anxiety. She felt so overwhelmed by everything she had heard. Eden could never have imagined such horrifying things happening to Rafe, but she had seen the proof. She wished she knew all of this sooner. Maybe then she would have been better equipped to help her.

  28

  SCRUTINIZING THE STUBBORN woman in front of him, Gabri De Angelis shook his head and knew he would have to give her a clearer
picture. This woman was still selfish and cruel not to leave Rafaella alone so she could get better.

  “Do you remember when I asked you why Rafaella was calling herself the betrayer?”

  “Yes,” Eden answered hesitantly. Rafe had talked about betraying her in their conversation in the garden.

  “She still thinks she betrayed you, and others,” he revealed. “Do you remember what Chiara told you we were saying when I was talking with Rafe in her room?”

  “Chiara said the two of you were talking about Dante, and she was calling herself the betrayer,” Eden answered not sure where he was leading her. “I really didn’t understand what you were talking about. Chiara said it was from your childhood.” She clasped her hands together. “Rafe told me several times she knew she was the betrayer. She told me today she still thinks she betrayed me somehow, but I still don’t know why she’s saying it.”

  “Chiara was correct,” said Gabri, “it is from Dante.” Gabri tightened his jaw to control the emotions threatening to explode from him because Rafe was thinking those thoughts again. He lived for months with fear of losing her to those dark thoughts, watching her spiral in and out of days of manic activity. He remembered the hopelessness when she fell into days of almost no movement at all because she was in one of her trances. He sometimes thought he was going mad with her because of all the time they spent together. “You see, she aligned herself with the Traitor, the Betrayer in Dante’s Ninth Circle of hell. You call him Cain.