I Love You, Salvatore

by Marita A. Hansen

  When he stopped down the road from my house, my usual drop-off spot, I practically leaped from the car. I didn’t say bye, I just needed to get away from him. Dio! I still couldn’t get over the fact he had a slave, let alone slept with her. But I guess my mother was right about his family being no good criminals.

  ***

  I practically flew inside my house, racing for my room. I shut myself in it before anyone could see me, unable to stop the torrent of tears bursting forth. My mother had told me his family was bad, that they sold guns and bullied shop owners into paying them money. That’s why they had soldiers: to take protection money as well as stopping other families from killing them.

  Mafiosi

  The Mafia

  Bullies

  Cowards

  My mother’s words flowed through my head…

  Bad

  Criminal

  Dangerous

  Evil

  Ruining Italy

  Yet, all I saw was Salvatore’s lovely face, his baby blues, his enthralling smile… I closed my eyes, my tears squeezing out the corners. I wanted to talk to someone about what had happened, but I couldn’t do that with my mother, nonna, or brother.

  I opened my eyes and turned to the cell phone Salvatore had given me for my birthday. We spoke on it for hours every night.

  But I couldn’t speak to him.

  He was the problem.

  I collapsed onto my bed and closed my eyes, wishing he wasn’t mafia. He shouldn’t be; he was too nice to be a criminal. I scrubbed that thought from my mind, because he couldn’t be nice—or even a good person, since he didn’t see anything wrong with screwing a sex slave.

  ***

  We’d had sex a week ago.

  I didn’t call him.

  Although I wanted to.

  But he hadn’t called me either.

  I knew him well enough to know he hadn’t used me—

  No! I obviously didn’t know him at all, since he’d hidden such a huge secret from me. I also knew nothing of what he did for a job, other than he worked for his father … which meant he committed crimes.

  In all truth, I only knew what he wanted me to know: the safe side that he could speak about, because he obviously couldn’t speak about having a slave. I still couldn’t get my head around that.

  Slave owners

  Murderers

  The last word popped into my head out of nowhere. My mother had said the Santini killed people who wronged them. Had Salvatore killed anyone?

  I flopped onto my bed, my work over for the day. I worked in my mother’s shop, repairing customers’ clothes. I flexed my hands, my fingers aching from doing too much needlework. But I still picked up my cell phone, needing to know who Salvatore truly was.

  I phoned his number, but he didn’t answer. I tried again the next day, leaving a short message, telling him to call me, yet he didn’t. I stewed for another week, working myself up more and more. Eventually, I caved in and called him again. As the dial tone went through, I sat down on my bed, terrified of him answering. We hadn’t spoken to each other for two weeks. Dio! Why was it always me that had to chase him? Whenever he got mad or upset with me, he froze me out, which meant I always had to make the first move. Was I misreading him, thinking he loved me just as much as I loved him? I wished I knew the answer, because I felt like I was flying blind, the man a total mystery.

  The dial tone clicked over, his voice coming through the line a second later. “Rosa?”

  “Sì,” I breathed out. “Can we meet to talk?”

  “I’m busy.”

  “Too busy to talk to me?”

  “I’m on my way to a business meeting.” Loud honking noises came through the line, sounding like he was caught in traffic. “I’ll call you back when I return to the hotel tonight. It’ll be around nine.”

  “Okay,” I said, wondering why he had a hotel room. “I—”

  He hung up.

  “—love you.” I squeezed my eyes shut, our future now even more uncertain.

  ***

  I sat on my bed, staring at my phone, waiting for Salvatore to call me. He was supposed to have phoned over an hour ago. Upset, I laid my head against my arm, slowly drifting off to sleep.

  A noise snapped me awake. I lifted my head and blinked, a few seconds later realizing it was my phone ringing. I quickly clicked it on, worried Salvatore would hang up.

  His deep voice came over the line. “Salve, Rosa,” he said, using the formal version of hello, as though we hadn’t been intimate.

  I wondered whether he was going to break up with me since I’d insulted his father—as well as him. I still thought his father was disgusting for having slaves, plus he’d hit Salvatore. Regardless, I knew he’d get upset over what I’d said about his father. He didn’t get on with his mother, but he was close to his father, regardless of the fights they had. Although I’d never met the man, he constantly talked about him, the love inherent in his voice. I just didn’t agree that his father sounded as great as Salvatore made out. I’d seen the bruises on his face and the upset the man caused when he made Salvatore do things he didn’t want to do. But it didn’t matter; I still had to apologize, since I’d take offense if he’d slighted my family.

  “I’m sorry for insulting your father,” I said.

  “You’re only sorry for upsetting me, not for what you believe about him.”

  I didn’t answer, because it was true.

  “Do you feel disgust over me too?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “You did when I let slip about the sex lessons.”

  “Can you blame me? You had a slave teach you what you did to me.”

  “Which means you lied to me,” he snapped.

  “Of course I didn’t, why would you say such a thing?” I asked, thinking it was rich coming from him. He was at fault here, not me.

  “Because you do think I’m disgusting.”

  “No, I don’t, only what you did.”

  He swore softly, sounding like he was smothering the phone with his hand.

  “Salvatore!”

  He answered, “What?”

  “Why are you mad at me? I’m not the one who had sex with a slave—numerous times.”

  “I’m mad because you know nothing about me, Rosa. And do you know why you know nothing?”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “Because I couldn’t. Just your reaction over the sex slave was too much for you to handle.”

  “Because slaves are illegal, and worse, having a sex slave isn’t normal—”

  “I’m not normal!” he yelled. “You knew my famiglia is mafia, yet you still accepted being my woman, while ignoring the fact of who I am.”

  “How can I ignore what I don’t know? You tell me nothing about that side of your life.”

  “Because you wouldn’t accept it. I thought I was protecting you by hiding it, even though it ate away at me. It makes me feel like I’m too disgusting to show you the real me. And I’m sick of hiding it from you, Rosa.” He stopped talking.

  “Salvatore, are you still there?”

  “Sì. I just opened up a container of guns.”

  “What?” I gasped.

  “Even though you know what my famiglia does for a living, you still sound surprised. Ask yourself why? Because to me it sounds like you’re willfully ignoring the obvious.”

  “It’s not like that—”

  He cut me off, “It is. I may not have talked about this side of my life before, but everyone on the island knows what my famiglia does. And don’t fool yourself into thinking I have no part in it. I’m immersed in it, Rosa. This is my life. I sell guns to criminals. I’m a criminal. I know everything about guns. I can strip one down in seconds and reassemble it blindfolded. I also know how far different guns can propel a bullet and how much I can sell them for. That’s not all; I know how to hit a target from a mile away. I didn’t just get sex lessons when I turned sixteen, I was taught how to fire many different weapons, rocket
propelled grenades too. I was also taught how to fight hand to hand combat. If I wanted, I could snap a man’s neck just as easily as shoot them. And I would do it without hesitation, because they would kill me if I didn’t.” His voice lowered. “I have blood staining my hands, the deaths of men on them. My first kill was at the age of eighteen. Do you remember when I cancelled that date to see Mission Impossible?”

  “Sì.”

  “It was because I was shaking so hard I could barely walk. I had gone with the soldati to collect money owed to my famiglia. We were ambushed. I had to fight for my life. I ended up stabbing a man to death with his own knife. And only last week I had to kill again.”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it, too shocked to respond.

  He continued talking, “One of my clients didn’t want to pay for a shipment of guns, so he tried to shoot me, but I was faster. I put three bullets in his chest. And I know I will have to kill again. It comes with the job, and if you want to be a part of my life, you have to accept what I do or walk away no matter how much it’ll hurt me. I can’t keep hiding things from you. So, do you want to leave me now you know the truth?”

  “I … ah…”

  He breathed out. “I understand you’re shocked, but I refuse to apologize for who I am. Even though you can’t see me, I’m more naked before you now than in that car when we were making love. I live a dangerous life, and if you stay with me you must understand there’s a high chance I will end up in prison or die young. Some of my relatives were prosecuted last year for some high-profile killings, while my uncle died in a car bombing. Another one was shot down along with my auntie in a hit. Also, if we have children, they will probably be targeted like Brando was. He was savagely beaten, almost dying from what was done to him.”

  I gasped. “I didn’t know. Is he all right?”

  “That happened last year.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I tried, but every time I went to open my mouth I saw your sweet face, Rosa. I didn’t want to bring ugliness into your life, so I bottled it up. But it’s too much to keep doing that, because it’s turning me ugly. It’s making me resent who I am, and I can’t keep doing that, not if I don’t want to end up like my mother. I may try to emulate my father, but I’m more like her. She used to be kind, someone I adored, but something snapped inside of her, turning her nasty. This life changes people, makes them unrecognizable. It corrupts not only their morals, but their souls too.”

  “Then get out of the mafia. We can go live somewhere else.”

  “The mafia isn’t something I can run from. It’s just as much a part of me as my heart and lungs are. Like air, I will die without it. And another thing: I’m being selfish allowing our relationship to continue. You may think it’s a fun game when I bribe my bodyguards not to follow us, but in all reality I shouldn’t be doing that. I’m risking both of our lives to assuage my selfish desires. Do you truly want to be a part of that life?”

  “I-I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I don’t want to lose you either, but unlike you, I come with a lot of baggage. So, truly think about it; then when I get back from my trip in a week’s time, tell me your answer.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Egypt. I’m here to sell illegal guns. I shouldn’t even be saying that over the phone in case my room’s bugged. But I’m sick of hiding the truth from you. It’s killing me, and I can’t do it anymore. That is why my famiglia arranges marriages with other Mafiosi. We all know what to expect, we are all used to this life. We don’t have to hide from each other what we’re doing, but you … you’re a civilian. You don’t have this in your blood. So, think long and hard before you walk into my real life, not just the one I sugarcoat for you, because it’s only the tip of the iceberg. Look inside yourself and ask whether your love for me is enough, because I can’t answer that for you.” His voice softened. “Ti amo, Rosa, and no matter what your decision is I will respect it, because it’ll be what you want.” He hung up, leaving me clutching the phone and shaking.

  ***

  He didn’t return when he said he would. He called, telling me he had to go to Russia on an unplanned trip due to a dispute over guns sold to a human trafficker. He put emphasis on telling me why he was going there, even mentioning that his father was considering buying another slave, which made me wonder whether he was purposely trying to sway my decision against being with him.

  Then he called a few days after that, telling me he had to go on another unplanned trip, this one to America. Before he hung up, he said that these trips were going to be happening more often, since he was taking a greater role in the family business. His father wanted him to take care of the dealings since his oldest brother was now a hitman, another thing he emphasized. After the third call, this one from Mexico, I started to tune out everything he said about the business. I wanted my sweet Salvatore back, not this mobster I didn’t know.

  And the longer he was away from me, the more it hurt. I wasn’t living life for myself anymore; I was living for the moment he called or returned. It was at that point I realized that I would accept all his flaws, no matter how great they were. He wasn’t the prince charming I had made him out to be; he was a hard man who only softened around me. I’d seen a fraction of it the first day I’d met him. He had ordered those boys around, commanding them like a grown-up, not a child of ten. I could imagine him doing the same now, but with much more authority behind it. I also started to imagine him shooting people. But when it came down to it, I would probably pick up a gun and shoot someone for him. I was that much in love.

  Slaves

  Guns

  Murder

  Salvatore

  The rest disappeared when he was around. And I knew even if I was risking my life, I would still marry him. Because I would rather live for only one day with him, than suffer a lifetime without him. Dramatic or not, that was how I felt. And he wasn’t going to change my mind with all his mafia talk. And if he even tried to push me away, I would go mafia on him.

  2014

  Blackness swept all thought away for a moment, then panicked voices started up. A mouth touched mine, blowing air into my lungs. A hand was placed on my chest, pumping it. I knew they couldn’t help me, that it was too late. I was dying, darkness pushing at the corners of my mind. I prayed my son never found out why I’d died. I couldn’t handle Piero knowing his running back into the house had led to my death. It wasn’t his fault; it was whoever had planted the bombs. They were stealing me from my family, not a little boy who just wanted his teddy bear. For a moment, my mind started panicking; realizing Piero had been in the house when the bomb had detonated. A second later, the fear was quashed, Piero’s cries telling me he was alive. If I could’ve smiled I would’ve, the relief so great. He had a long life ahead of him—something I wouldn’t see. I would miss the major milestones in his life as well as my four-year-old daughter’s. I wouldn’t see them grow, or bake them anymore birthday cakes, or meet their future partners. I also wouldn’t be able to cradle their babies in my arms, the name nonna never being said to me. I would miss all of that because I’d chosen to marry into the mafia life—one I knew could kill me.

  Salvatore had warned me, but I hadn’t cared. All I’d cared about was being with him. Pain lanced through my mind. I knew my death would ruin him, and it hurt more than all the pain wracking my body. I could picture what he would look like when he found out I was dead: he would wail and clutch my body to his; he would also scream my name...

  Because if it was him lying here, breathing his last breaths, I would do the same.

  I started crying inside, wishing I could have more time with him. The years we spent together weren’t enough. Even if I lived to a thousand it would never be enough. People walked through life not knowing love, not even getting a glimpse of what I had with Salvatore, and here I was, dying at the age of thirty-six. I wanted to scream at God to let me have more time, and if he didn’t listen, I would beg the Devil, because ri
ght now I was willing to barter my soul for Salvatore. And when the Devil came for payment, he wouldn’t find my soul, because Salvatore had it along with my heart.

  The thought of him crying over my death filled my head. I’d seen him cry before and it had torn me to pieces. Salvatore had held nothing back, just let all his pained emotions out.

  I screamed in my head, again begging for God to let me live ... for Salvatore, always for Salvatore.

  1998

  Salvatore had been away for over a month, and during that time I’d thrown myself into my work, using it to distract myself from being apart from him. And there was plenty of work to do at my mother’s clothes shop. While she attended to the store and measured people for fittings, wedding dresses amongst them; I sewed and repaired clothes out the back. One day she came rushing in, telling me she had an important client arriving for a fitting soon. She was in a panic because the sales clerk hadn’t shown for work, and she needed someone to take care of the cash register while she dealt with the client.

  “I can serve, Mamma,” I said, pushing up from my seat. I’d been fixing a damaged shawl. There was a large pile of clothes next to the sewing machine, which needed to be mended by the end of the day, but it could wait, my mother’s happiness more important.

  She grabbed my face. “Grazie mille, Rosa.” She kissed both my cheeks, looking intensely relieved. By her reaction, I knew the person must be extremely important, because I’d never seen her look so excited. Right now she resembled a giddy teenager, rather than the stern mother I was used to.

  “Who’s the client?” I asked.

  Her gray eyes sparkled. “Signorina Orsini, she’s getting a wedding dress fitted.”

  My heart sank. “Which Orsini?”

  “Selena. Such a beautiful girl.”

  My heart sank further. Was that why Salvatore had been away for so long? And why he’d kept telling me about what he was doing? So, I would break up with him, leaving him open to marry Selena.

  My mother continued talking, totally oblivious to my heart breaking: “And if Signorina Orsini is happy with us, maybe she’ll recommend my shop to her friends.” She squeezed my hand. “Now, let’s get ready for her.” She let go and pushed through the curtained doorway.