by Avery Hawkes
Lance
"Six months?" I had tried to stay quiet and reverent as the priest droned own about the "sacrament" of marriage, but I wasn't expecting to have a huge obstacle placed in front of us.
We sat in an office near the back of the church we went to as kids. My mom went to this church every Sunday. Sometimes I even tagged along, with my tattoos and all. Rosabella squirmed in her seat at my outburst. As she moved, I noticed how smoking hot she looked, even when she was modestly dressed for the meeting.
"Well, yes. Unlike lots of other churches out there, The Catholic Church takes marriage pretty darn seriously," the priest chortled. He was stout fellow, with large glasses and greying hair.
"It seems like a pretty simple process to me," I said. "You promise to have babies, raise 'em in the church, get married, umm … make sure the marriage is legitimate and then bam."
"It's not that simple. You see, we have a marriage class that we like every couple to attend, as well as multiple interviews and―" he droned on. I could feel myself losing focus.
Rosa and I came up with our plan on our way to the church. We both agreed that we wanted to leave as soon as possible, leaving less time for Regina to spill the beans on us. That meant, we'd have to be married before she took the pregnancy test, giving us less than a week.
Rosa had brought the will to show me, and it did stipulate that we had to be married in the Catholic church by a priest.
Yes, my family was Catholic, but I never knew that getting married took that much work. By how often my younger cousins got married and reproduced like bunnies, it seemed like it would be easier.
I leaned forward and opened my mouth, interrupting the priest in mid-sentence.
"Would you be able to help us out, Father?"
The man looked uncomfortable and then shook his head.
"The best I can do, if you two do all the necessary work, is four months."
"Four months!" I exclaimed. I could feel my nostrils flaring. God dammit, this was why I never went to church. So many rules.
Then, I felt Rosabella's hand on my thigh. I paused, a bit taken aback that she'd come on to me in front of a Catholic priest. But as I looked down, I realized she was grasping me for support. Her eyes were starting to water, and I could tell she had something up her sleeve.
"Father," she said softly, her voice was smooth and buttery, but a tad higher than I was used to. "Father, I'm sorry. Lance, he just got back from serving in Afghanistan." She looked up at me with loving eyes, like she was looking at her soul mate. I'd only seen that look from her once, and that was in high school, after our first kiss.
"We met in high school, six years ago," Rosa went on. "And we've been apart ever since. But our love was so strong and we overcame it … but …" a tear ran down her cheek.
"It's okay dear," the priest said, turning to grab a Kleenex and hand it to her. She thanked him, then dabbed her eyes. Damn was she good.
"We thought he'd be back for a lot longer than it turns out he will be." She hid her face in the tissue, "Lance is leaving in a week to be stationed in another country. It's not a warzone, b-but I can't join him if we aren't married."
I nodded, trying to look like the supportive fiancé. My arm moved around to rub her back. "It's okay honey, we'll figure something out."
"I'm a cradle Catholic," she said, "I've always dreamt of being married, and I feel that God has called me to this man," she glanced up at me with watery eyes. "But I'm starting to lose faith we will ever … e-eever …" she wailed into her tissue. I raised my eyebrows at the priest, who looked pretty distraught by the whole thing. She cried for a while and then asked for another tissue, which he provided.
After things had died down and we had all caught our breath the Priest nodded.
"I'm not one to do this …" he said, "But alright, I'll do it."
"Really?" she said, a smile radiating from her face. That smile made me want her, even if we were in a holy building.
"Yes, you'll have to see if you can get your family in here on Thursday, but if you can―"
"W-wait!" Regina's voice was a bit too loud for the room. She tried to smile, but her face was filled with worry. I knew what was coming. She leaned forward and whispered to the priest.
"You've lived in this town for a while. You know my family, what they do." Rosabella eyed him intently. "They want me to stay involved in their criminal activities, rather than move away with Lance. I feel as though God has called me away from a life of crime. I've seen … I've seen terrible things."
The priest shook a little bit. I watched him as he did. IF he had sat in confessional for decades with her Father, he most likely knew the worst of it, even if he couldn't admit to it.
Finally, he spoke up.
"I don't know if I'm comfortable wedding a couple on such short notice without the blessing of their families …." He took off his glasses and heaved a heavy sigh, "but, I am willing to make an exception for you, Rosabella."
Rosa's eyes lit up. "Thank you, thank you so much, Father."
"I do have one condition. Each of you will write me a page about your thoughts on marriage and WHY you want to be married. Bring this to me by Saturday and I will be able to wed you two."
"Of course," I said, nodding to him. I wanted to seem like I was more involved in the process than just sitting and letting Rosa do all the talking. That seemed to help. The priest stood up, placing his glasses back on his head, and then turned toward the bookshelf in the back of the room.
I left the church with a million books on marriage and family.
"He sure wanted us to be informed," I muttered as I walked Rosabella to her car door. Fumbling with keys and books was difficult but I was able to open the door for her.
"I think he feels bad. He's bending the rules for us and just wants to make sure it doesn't end with a divorce on his hands."
"Well, he doesn't have anything to worry about then," I replied.
She shot me a glance, her eyes blazing. I knew that look. Rosa was still unsure about our little sham of a marriage working out, but she was sure as hell hot for me. I grinned back, then asked if she could hold the dusty tomes. She took the books and started flipping through them. The face she made as she tried to concentrate made me hard for her. It was something about the wrinkle that appeared between her eyebrows and the way she tilted her head as she read.
If I had my way, I would have screwed her right there in the parking lot, but I had to have some amount of self restraint. With care, I closed the passenger-side door.
We were on our way back to the shop, I turned my head to glance at her.
"You did a good job back there. I even believed you."
She smirked. "I feel bad, you know? He's a good priest, I've known him all of my life." She didn't look at me, but kept her eyes on the books, skimming through pages of content.
"It's alright, as long as we get married and get the money, it doesn't matter."
"But it does matter," her voice was terse. She closed the book she was holding with a loud thunk.
Well, shit, I was in for it now.
"Why?"
"I feel like I'm trying to get away from my family because they ALL lie and go against the rules just to get money. It sucks, because I have to stoop to their level to leave them."
"You have good reasons for what you're doing," I replied. "No one would blame you for lying to get away from your family."
"My father can also justify his actions. He does it for the family, for honor, to protect us from the worst of the world. I can't keep doing this Lance, I just need to get away."
The sound of the engine hummed as I turned the corner down toward our town. I hated to see her pretty face so distraught. But I understood where she was coming from, a little bit too much.
"Sometimes," I finally said, "We have to things we find … morally grey for the greater good."
"Is running away from home really the 'greater good'?" she shot back.
"I think of it this
way," I said, speaking slowly, "The choices we make are no longer just for us. They're for our kid. We need to protect him … or her from danger. If you think your family is dangerous for our baby to be around, then yes, it is the 'greater good'."
She nodded, hugging the stack of books that were sitting on her lap. Once more, I saw that wrinkle appear between her eyebrows. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, I reached over to brush my hand over her face, like I wanted to smooth her worry away. It didn't work as planned, the stress was still there, but she smiled and closed her eyes.
"Thanks," she said.
"For what?"
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you surprised me. Not many men I know would act so calm about all of this."
"Ha!" I chuckled and gave her a wink, "Babies and secret marriages are a piece of cake after having to share a room with twelve other stinking men in the desert."
She stuck out her tongue.
The drive back to the shop was smooth after that. Rosabella stared at the houses and trees as they passed. She was deep in thought and I didn't want to disturb that. She deserved a moment of peace to herself to think and process what our life was becoming. The trip down the gravel road to the shop went by quickly.
When we pulled up, Regina's car gleamed in the sunlight. My Dad was working on it, making sure to detail the inside. It was almost ready for pick up. I pulled up next to Rosa's car, parking it out of the way so other people could get closer to the building. Before I was able to put my car into park, Rosa’s hand clutched my shirt.
"Ah, I didn't know you wanted me so badly," I shot at her.
It caught her off guard and made her blush. "No! Well …yes … but no!" She pointed toward Regina's car
"Why did Regina bring her car to your shop?"
I raised my eyebrows. "Pretty bad fender bender. She came in the morning after the bar incident, acting strange. Couldn't even drive straight down the road. We ended up having to pull the car out of the ditch …."
"I knew it!"
"You knew what?" I asked.
"Regina told us her battery stopped working, but I knew she was lying!" Rosabella took off her seat belt and opened the door without me, then ran forward to check out Regina's car. When I followed her I tried not to stare at her ass too much, especially in front of my father.
"Hello," my dad seemed surprised by Rosa, who was inspecting the car from as many angles as she could. I waved from across the lot and he nodded toward me.
"Dad, this is Rosabella Rossi. I know her from high school," I tugged at Rosa's sleeve to pull her attention from the car. She hadn't realized that my father had been in the back seat and blushed when she saw him.
"Oh, sorry for interrupting," she said with an easy smile. My father snorted and adjusted his blue overalls.
"Don't you worry. It's not often I get pretty young ladies at my shop." The old man winked at her.
"And this pervert is my father," I told her. He waved me off, always grumbling about how I took the fun out of things. But to be honest, I was probably more crass than he was. Rosa, however, took the entire interaction with grace, not allowing either of us to bother her. Her smile was gentle, the stress of the day gone now that she was out of the car.
She still had the books in her arms and looked like she was starting to tire from having such a heavy load.
"Do you want me to carry those for you?" I asked.
"No, no that's fine. I have to go anyway, my family is expecting me home. It was nice to meet you Mr. Strong."
"You drive carefully, now," my father told her, leaning against Regina's car. She balanced the stack of books in one hand long enough to give us a wave goodbye.
"Oh! Tell your sister her car is ready for pickup!" I told her before she was able to drive off. I felt like I wanted to say more, do more, kiss her, something. But it seemed inappropriate, especially after she had been so stressed. I watched her car drive away, sad to see her go.
"Dad," I said after the car had vanished from sight. "I'm going to marry that girl."
He raised his fluffy white eyebrows before kneeling back down to clean the inside of the car.
"You better get on that quick son."
"I sure will."
I sure will.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rosabella
It was two days before we were supposed to be married, and I had yet to write a word of the letter the priest had asked us to write. I laid in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about what marriage meant to me.
When I was a young girl, all I wanted was to be married. I would gawk at the beautiful gowns in the magazines and dress up my dolls for their weddings. They'd be wed in a grand ceremony to my brother's action figures. It's kind of crazy how close that was to my reality. Soon I’d be marrying the closest thing to an action hero.
My mother had told me to wait until I was married before I had sex, but that was out the window. How could I write an essay abut the meaning of a religious ceremony that I didn't even adhere to? Once more, I found myself fibbing in order to get my way, and it drove me insane. The books that the priest had given me didn't help. I only felt extreme guilt for what we were doing.
All I could do was hug my pillow, trying to think of a way to connect my heart and my brain. There must be some angle I could take that would legitimize my marriage in my mind, but every corner I turned seemed to be a dead end.
Was I making a terrible mistake?
"Gah!" I threw my down pillow across the room. Lance's words were repeated in my mind. Yes. Sometimes we'd have to do morally grey things for the greater good. But why did writing about marriage bother me more than straight-out lying to the priest about Lance?
The questions kept coming, and I decided I'd just write whatever came to my mind. That was a job for my journal. Taking out the leather-bond book, I got ready to jot down my stream-of-consciousness. All the toxic thoughts would leave my mind and be burned into the page, freeing me to write a letter to the priest.
As I was placing my pen down to the paper, the door to my room flew open with a loud bang.
I screamed and jumped up from my bed, throwing my journal to the ground as though it had been the source of the sound. There, in the doorway, was Matteo. His face was as pale as a ghost and his hands were shaking. One of them held our family's land-line phone. Instantly my stomach dropped.
This moment was one we all knew would come.
“The Call.”
My mother would talk about it every now and then. Having multiple sons and her husband in the Mafia, she always expected The Call to come anytime. They were the calls you get at 2 in the morning. Calls that left your world spinning and lungs without air. Matteo had just received our mother’s greatest fear, but at 2 in the afternoon.
"There's been an accident."
I could feel my heart skip a beat. My feet flew forward and I grasped my brother’s arms. Whoever was on the other side of the phone had hung up, and the dial tone was playing.
"What happened? Who had an accident?"
"It was the hospital. Regina has been in a car accident."
"Oh God." My eyes darted around the room, looking for something to look to for comfort, but there was nothing there. "Is she … did they say how she was?"
"No. Just that we should come as soon as we can." He was still shaking.
Even though Regina was a terrible sister, no one deserved to be in the hospital. Emotions swept over me, guilt for punching her last week, for yelling at her. Fear gripped me that she'd be seriously injured or worse.
Suddenly, my secret marriage and pregnancy was the last thing on my mind.
"Do Mom and Dad know?"
Matteo was looking off into space, his mind in another world. I snapped my fingers in front of his face to get his attention. He blinked and stared at me as though I had just teleported in front of his eyes.
"Do our parents know?" I repeated.
He shook his head. "Father's in an important meeting with some busines
s partners from Naples."
"Make sure they know," I told him pointedly. "I'll call the twins and Davide."
Like a tornado, I swept through my room, picking up my purse and a jacket. Matteo finally had pulled himself together and started making calls.
"I'll meet you at the hospital," I told him. He waved, but didn't look back. My father was on the other line and I knew he hated to be interrupted, especially with the men from Naples.
Dammit, Regina. What did you get yourself into this time?
Cold. White. Sterile.
The hospital gave me the chills as I walked through the hallways. At the front desk, the secretary had told me that Regina was in surgery. She wouldn't be out for another hour. The waiting room was just down the hall. It was a quaint little waiting room, with a small TV hanging in the corner, some brightly colored toys for kids to play with, and magazines to flip through.
I didn't pay them any heed, nor did I sit down. Instead, I paced back-and-forth through the room. A young couple in the corner eyed me, but then quickly got back to playing on their phones. I glanced at my own for any messages.
When I had called my brothers, all of them had been busy. I had left voicemails and called multiple times leaving messages each time. Most likely, they were in the same place as my father, meeting with other criminals.
Even now, when a member of my family was hurt, crime trumped family. It made me want to scream.
After fifteen minutes, I received a group text from my Father: "We're on our way."
A sigh of relief escaped my chest ad I finally allowed myself to sit down. On the table in front of me, I noticed a bridal magazine on the bottom of a pile. After trying to ignore it for a few minutes, I grabbed it and starting leafing through the pages. After all the advertisements, I saw beautifully shot images of brides in sparkling gowns. Flower crowns adorned their heads, making them look like faeries. All of the women were magical, ethereal beings. I tried to imagine myself in their place and came up short.
I wasn't even going to have a dress. I had to place the magazine back down. Thinking about the wedding made me feel disgusting while I was waiting for Regina to come out of surgery. How could I think of the plan I concocted to claim a bunch of dirty Rossi money when one of my blood relatives was injured.
