#my family barely speaks italian/neapolitan at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

worldcakecakecake · 4 years

Text

On Deutschland and Italia, by Lovino Valenti

Lovino writes a series of blog entries on the relationship between Germany and Italy as he deals with a move to Hamburg, his brother’s wedding, and his budding romance (which he denies) to the infuriating Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Chapter 8

Lately they had been in a texting spree. They were wishing each other ‘Buon Giorno’ and ‘Guten Morgen’, asking about their day at work, promising to text back on a break or when done. They would strike topics on the news, what they were planning to eat, even sending each other memes that had them grinning or laughing at their phone. Feliciano had never seen his brother so tight on his phone…he had barely talked to him or even spared a word, despite how he was excited to spend some time to chat.

They were currently purchasing Feliciano’s wedding suit, fixed with the changes they wanted and ready to take home. Feliciano moved his hands over the cover it was kept in lovingly, excited to soon feel its magic and reign him well on his wedding day. Lovino was still on his phone, grinning the entire time and now Gilbert must have written something sweet since he witnessed his brother heavily blushing, trying hard to cover it with his hands, but it was too large and Feliciano had already spotted it anyways.

“What did he say?” He teased, leaning with a smirk, eager and expecting.

Lovino moved the phone away from his vision. “Nothing you should be looking at.”

“Is he already sending you nudes?”

“Oh god, no! Just keep out of it.”

Feliciano chuckled, Signore Ferrara arriving with documents needed to be signed on warranty and any other receipts. They found themselves conversing, the old man wondering about this coming wedding and of course Feliciano adored filling him in on it. Lovino would add his input between glances on his phone. Cards were given to pay, Lovino looking to make sure Feliciano gave him the right one. It was just as Feliciano was sent his own message, a sort of billing number…from the Dominican Republic. Feliciano looked through it quick, but in that instant, Lovino managed a side glance to notice that it was about a fulfilled payment concerning something to do with their new house surely. Lovino wouldn’t have bothered…if it wasn’t for the fact that a bank account and number that belonged to Feliciano was being used. Shouldn’t Ludwig be the one doing that? It was his company that was in charge of that move…the reason why Feliciano was even leaving with him, his own job but volunteering. Why would Feliciano have to give such a big payment? He shut his phone and focused back on Signore Ferrara, now talking on something he did for one of his ex-wife’s wedding, Feliciano looking up with a non-perturbed smile and eager to hear.

“Have you chosen the suit for the best man?” The man wondered.

“Gilbert and I will come one of these days to choose. We’ll surely get it here,” Lovino decided, raising his eyes from a text message he had written the albino about the plans he just told.

The owner smiled and was eager to see them again. “Well, it’s all yours now,” he declared, handing the last of the papers, now the wrapped suit ready to be embraced, as it was now fully Feliciano’s.

He cuddled the damn thing, like it was some sort of puppy.

They wished their goodbyes and they were on course to Feliciano’s apartment, the younger blabbering on already wearing and strutting for their whole family to see in preparation. It was not before Lovino wrote one last message: ‘Something is going on. We definitely have to talk.’

On Deutschland and Italia.

Trading goods.

Looking for answers.

Trade has always been very good for Germany and Italy. We are actually Germany’s most important trade partner, with a rather large percentage at that. We give them machines, cars, iron, steel and even feed them with our food. They are the first we give our imports to, and although it is not the same for us, we still receive a just amount of their own goods in cars and machinery. German milk tends to be used for cheese manufacturing in Italy, while Germany gets half of their entire fruits and vegetables from Italy. It continues to grow and perhaps one day Germany could easily become our own best trade partner in cars, medicine or construction. It’s balanced and reciprocal.

Sadly, we are constantly told that we have to be as productive and hardworking as our German partners. It kind of annoys me that no matter, it is never enough. Yet here we are, still thriving. Now all we need to be prepared is for a soon coming digital economy…which the Germans are already beating us at.

But they don’t really have all the cards in the industrial world as they say they have, for many German companies are riddled with bankruptcies and corruption as much as Italy, while there are actually many singular Italian individuals succeeding and bringing glory to the companies they work in. Sometimes were so successful we might even end up paying large loans for our suspicious fiancés.

Did I make too obvious who I’m talking about? Okay, I am not entirely sure what’s going on and it’s all just confusing, but I will get to the bottom of this, using the help of someone I never thought I would use it from and expose Ludwig’s treachery!

There is still time to save my little brother!

They met happily, with strong handshakes and speaking on plans for the day. They were quick in choosing and buying their suits, leaving the store in exactly two hours, with a free day that they could spend well together. They had lunch in a fine restaurant talking of music. Gilbert already made plans for dinner and so they decided on a stroll across the city, passing the time in chats and pointing the beauty on the things they passed.

“-but Christmas will always be better in Italy for me.”

“Really? Our Christmas markets are not festive enough for you? Do I have to bring some Pandoro or Panettone? Less Glühwein maybe?” Gilbert feigned insult.

“No!” Lovino chuckled with a glare that didn’t hold its usual spite. The grin he had was beautiful enough that it had Gilbert falling back to their easy pace. “I’m not a fan of either of those cakes anyways…I prefer a good Struffoli.”

“Then I’ll get you some!”

“They never make it as good as they can do it in Naples.”

“I’ll get a whole array of Neapolitans to make it here.”

“Where would you even get them from?”

“I don’t know, the black market?”

Lovino never thought he would laugh so much with Gilbert, never thought he’d see him so beautiful, to want to be closer, hint enough in the glance he gave to his arms, as if in them was enough call.

How Gilbert wanted him against him…out of all the moments to get nervous and let his highly boasted confidence crumble.

“Oh um…” he raised a hand with the intention, but in the end, it was shoved in his front pockets in fear. Lovino tried to hide his disappointment. “…you mentioned wanting to talk about something…unless that something was struffoli and you just wanted to convince someone to illegally transport hundreds of boxes.”

“It’s about Feliciano and Ludwig.”

“What about them? …unless you have new ideas of sabotaging their wedding, but come on, I thought we decided were not going to make it worst for them anymore.”

“No! It’s not that! It’s more specifically about a message I saw on Feliciano’s phone and how he refuses to tell me anything when I ask.”

“Message? What message?”

“It was from a bank, something about house money…a large amount of money that he put from his own account.”

Gilbert was not understanding. “So…he’s…paying bills?”

“He’s not supposed to.” Lovino stopped them to stare at the river, leaning over the brick, alone and private. “Ludwig is in charge of it. Ludwig is in charge of absolutely everything that has to do with moving to Santo Domingo. Feliciano shouldn’t be paying a single cent in it.”

“I mean, you can’t completely let Ludwig pay for absolutely everything.”

“Not a house payment! That was supposed to be fixed from his company. If Feliciano had to pay for it…then it means something is wrong.”

“He could have been paying something else.”

“I know what I saw…”

They lay in silence as they thought it, finding reasons and then calm in the current of this river.

“And…what do we do about it?”

“Find out what’s going on clearly. Any ideas?”

“Well…my genius mind has something quite clear.” Lovino raised an eye. “We could just…ask the company itself,” Gilbert shrugged, pointing in the distance to the large red and white DB. “If something is going on, they’ll know,” Gilbert instilled, determined as ever.

Lovino was suddenly fearful, that large sign seeming to look down at him intensely. “Do you think they’ll tell us?”

“I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but they’ll give us something.”

Lovino sighed and set course, Gilbert not minding on following behind.

It was getting late, most workers were surely on their way back home, even the receptionist at the front was packing everything to leave. The timetable at the desk still mentioned these were working hours, if even only a couple of minutes were left. They both hated to be those rude visitors, but they hoped it would be quick.

“Guten abend, how can I help you?” She introduced, doing well to hide whatever annoyance.

“Yes, we’re hoping you can tell us about a Ludwig Beilschmidt working here,” Lovino asked.

“Ah, he’s the one who’s bringing the company to the Dominican Republic.”

“Yes! Is it possible you can tell us the state of that venture?”

“That depends. Who are you to ask?”

Lovino was left blank, but Gilbert acted quick, in his idea fulfilling his wish of holding Lovino, pulling him, an arm around his waist, proclaiming an idea. Lovino was left stunned and blushing in silence. “Sorry, my boyfriend was just asking for me, I was a bit unsure. Uh, Ludwig Beilschmidt is my brother. I’m Gilbert Beilschmidt…I just want to check something for my family, he told me himself it’s all right.”

“All right then, let me do a quick check here then.” She focused on typing the necessary information on the computer, focused on not noticing the grimace Lovino sent, surely blaring questions, but Gilbert only smirked and winked, instilling to keep themselves this way to make things easier and get their answers. Lovino looked away, pretending he wasn’t swimming in that comfort, hiding a smile, wanting the lady to take her sweet time checking, just so he could stay in that closeness, in the held of that arm for as long as possible. Gilbert took the opportunity to lean himself into the delectable scent of his hair, liking how well he fitted in his chest. He definitely didn’t need to rub his fingers as sweetly as he did on his waist, but it got a little hum from Lovino that Gilbert grinned more to in wanting.

“Everything is set for him to leave to the Dominican Republic. As I assume you know, he’ll be starting his own branch without the company.”

“Danke- wait, what? Without the company?” In his surprise, Gilbert let go of Lovino, leaning more for answers.

The receptionist was rather astounded, but she followed on, “yes. His section is filling for bankruptcy and they cannot afford to start a new base in the Caribbean. He offered to start it up himself. We’ll be giving him some help with contact and location, but the rest he’ll have to do himself.”

“What are you offering him.”

“Just contacts and information.”

“No house payment? No reimbursements? Travel or aid?”

“I’m afraid not. That will come from his own pocket and investments.”

“Couldn’t you have offered for him to stay?” Gilbert questioned on.

“I’m afraid he would have no position here. Everything was settled for him to leave. We really did not have anything open for him to come back to.”

In their surprise they lay in heavy silence, fretful and agitated, remaining as they truly tried to understand what was going on. The receptionist did look like she wanted to leave, so they wished their goodbyes, now late enough to head to their dinner place, a steakhouse that Lovino didn’t bother to comment on its tackiness as his thoughts were still swimming with the recent news.

The restaurant had low lighting, they were secluded, their table small so they could lean closer to one another, yet nothing was settled to move on to romance. They sat feeling betrayed, with questions and worries for their little brothers.

“If I recall, Feliciano’s position is just volunteering?”

“Yep.”

“So, he’s not getting paid.”

“Yep.”

Gilbert groaned, “then how the hell are they going to work with nothing?”

“Well,” Lovino shrugged, “Feli does have his savings from what he’s working on the hospital now, plus he paints and sells.”

“Ludwig has his own savings, you know. I’m sure it’s enough to get started without depending heavily on what Feliciano has.”

“There’s also the large wedding they have to pay for.” With a 10,000 budget that…they helped to place.

Now the regret was inking heavy on them.

“It’s still really unfair that Feliciano has to pay from his own pocket for something that was meant to be Ludwig’s.”

“They’re getting married, isn’t this the kind of thing married couples do. Did they at least decide this together?”

“I don’t know… Feliciano hasn’t said anything.”

“We have to get them to talk then…I really doubt Ludwig would decide on something so brash and use somebody else’s money like that.”

“And I don’t want to think Feliciano is dumb enough to accept a dependence so large as that.”

“We’ll see. You go to Feli, I go to Lud, we’ll report back.” How like a mission it sounded, but Lovino agreed as obedient as a soldier. “Now, can we actually focus on our evening?” It was like an awakening that made Lovino realize where he was siting, the dim lighting that he dared say was romantic…with Gilbert. All of a sudden, he found himself reddened, nervous and without new words to say. “Oh, have I left you speechless? That’s all right, it is to be expected in my presence.”

Lovino scoffed, “I was realizing the stupid decision I got myself in.”

“It was one of your best decisions really.”

How Lovino wanted to shout well to the restaurant: ‘Yes!’ But he only smirked, that charming grin that had Gilbert without a remark to Lovino’s silence, the gracious way he picked his drink and sipped. Once done, the conversation was switched on next holiday plans and locations, other chats to drown the night, turning their presence more beautiful and more of an aching each time they had to wish goodbye.

On Deutschland and Italia.

Germany is war, Italy is love.

With the catholic seat in Italy, the protestant movements began in Germany, creating the first division of Christianity, a long trail of divide in our continent that has cost the life of millions. Italy has had a long history of invasions from the Germans, from barbaric and creating the fall of Rome, to attacks of religion and territory, in fires, murdering, rapes and destruction. Yet with the rise of Romanticism, Italy became Germany’s inspiration with literary beauties, a show of love that perhaps give us a chance to think of peace. The faith that the world wars brought made it unlikely once again.

There is repulsion and attraction between us, never meant to settle on a single line. Sometimes it’s like were doomed to never really have that tranquility that would be ideal for this union of Europe.

Italy’s nature is to love, Germany’s nature is to resist, it’s not meant to mix and become something greater.

I really wish my brother would have understood that long ago before he found himself in the situation he is in now. I hope to bring him sense, to fix any errors before it ends in something disastrous.

“Oh, this is so pretty! It would fit Ludwig so well,” Feliciano ogled at this ring, with silver, diamonds and a black stripe.

“It won’t fit with the wedding decorations though,” Lovino told.

“What if it doesn’t? It would fit Ludwig, and that’s what matters,” Feliciano smiled, putting the ring back and settling on looking for others.

Lovino only huffed, not really caring at the task at hand. “They’re really expensive here though.”

“They do have the nicest. I though you said that price shouldn’t matter,” Feliciano reminded, now settling on a red band, smoothed with diamonds and black jewels.

“Only if you have the budget for it.”

“We talked about this the first day. We’re all right, you yourself suggested the budget and were still well under it.”

And that moment hurt, Lovino realizing that his idea to try and make this wedding hard for him as selfish revenge was only bringing more pain he did not really want for his brother. He did not want to push more into it, did not want to remind more of what Feliciano was going through, but Lovino needed answers, he needed to help his brother if there was a way he could do it.

“Are you really all right?” He asked, leaning closer, a small little area of privacy in the shop, despite being one of the only five there.

“I…I’m fine, I really…why you would you question it like that?” There was hesitation and worry that Lovino had learned to see well on his brother, no matter how he later tried to conceal it.

“Feliciano…” he knew now he had to be direct, or else it seemed Feliciano would move away further. “I noticed the message you got for the house in Santo Domingo.” Feliciano stiffened and looked like he had turned to stone. “Feliciano…what’s going on?”

Feliciano’s expression was now determined on the rings, trying to make them the focus. Change the topic, a distraction, chose a damn ring. He realized that moment he didn’t like any of them for Ludwig. Lovino could see his disappointment, came ever closer, for Feliciano caging, imposing, and he was never one to resist for long.

“I didn’t…I didn’t want to say anything,” he finally omitted and Lovino was relieved. “Ludwig and I didn’t want to talk about it with our families until everything was really settled.” He thought maybe excuse enough so Lovino could wait until then, but there was heavy wait in his expression that demanded more, and Feliciano, intimidated, sighed, and gave to be able to rid it. “I really want to keep to what Ludwig said, but…I can admit that our job positions…have changed.” Lovino tried to give surprise, but he needed more he hadn’t heard. “It’s…it’s really nothing to worry about. Ludwig and I are fine. Were just worried about…how you guys will take it.”

“How come? Do you think we’ll react negatively?”

“I mean, I just… I just don’t know…and I rather we can talk about it some other time.”

“You’re going to leave me worried as hell here,” he couldn’t resist raising his voice slightly.

“Please, please, please, don’t!” Feliciano tried to hush him, taking his arms in his ever-gentile hold. “Just wait a bit more! The most I can tell you is that…I’m not doing a volunteer anymore.”

“What?” Lovino outraged loud this time, Feliciano grimacing, pushing him more into their privacy, close, the other comers had now quickly gazed. Once their eyes were back on other jewelry, Feliciano went back to speaking.

“It’s a job now, a good official job. They’ll pay me lots and I can take care of me and Ludwig.” He got excited hoping Lovino could understand the joy in it, but the elder brother continued his grimace. “However bad you think it is, it’s not. It’s honestly wonderful. Just, please…wait until Ludwig and I talk about it, it will all be clear then.” That’s when the clerk came, suggesting his help and Feliciano took it eagerly to get out of this conversation. He was attentive, no matter the demanding stare Lovino kept on him as he talked on, deciding on rings, buying, saying their farewells. Even as they made their ways back home, Feliciano refused to cave, talking on different topics, nowhere near the future Lovino was exceptionally worried about for him.

“Ludwig…I’m going to do something I never thought I would ever do in my life,” Gilbert told, planted and spread on their parent’s sofa, Ludwig on a near table tapping away on his laptop.

“Mhm?” He could only murmur, busy and not really wanting to engage in any kind of conversation.

“I think I’m going to ask Lovino out.”

Ludwig instantly stopped his tapping and gazed over to his brother, looking like a defeated soldier all splayed like that…he wondered if perhaps he had truly been fighting some intensive battle…one that lead to some kind of trauma where he thought it was okay to date what he had long considered his biggest enemy.

“Are you okay? Do you need some water?”

“I’m fine, really……am I?” He gazed over, Ludwig wondering so, close to calling some sort of clinical aid.

“In my honest opinion, you are now truly and fully insane.”

“Is it…that unexpected?”

“Lovino Valenti, Gilbert…you want to date Lovino Valenti…think about that, analyze, consider, plan…Lovino Valenti!” He needed to make clear as much as he could.

Gilbert turned and went silent, Ludwig sighing for now, sure that Gilbert would come into his senses.

“I want to bang him,” he had no problem with alerting the room, Ludwig grimacing and hoping he could erase those words from ever being uttered by his brother’s mouth.

“Oh no…you’re serious.” There was no way of getting his concentration again, his mind was now too tainted. “What…what happened?”

“I guess we just…did what you guys always said we should have done. We talked and…kind of decided to settle our differences to help make this wedding possible, and ever since we did that…I’ve realized we actually connect a lot. He’s actually…really cool and he can say so many awesome things that makes me want to…keep letting him talk and listen…I never thought I would want that from him ever.”

Ludwig…needed to pinch…or slap himself to truly realize this was happening, but wanting to be the attentive younger brother, he simply breathed in and let him continue.

“…I…think about him a lot, and now…all I’m looking forward to is our next meeting…” nothing more. He breathed in a silence that was odd for him.

“You know…that sounds exactly like how I felt when I realized…well…that I was in love with Feliciano.”

The word love was just the shot to get Gilbert to widen and come back to reality. “Woah, woah, woah there, let’s not get carried away,” he even sat up.

“You just said all that and you refuse to admit that it could be love?”

“But…that’s too strong, that’s something…way beyond what we’re in right now.”

“So?” Ludwig shrugged, “doesn’t matter. When the feeling comes, it comes, and it’s not about how long it took.”

“Feliciano has really gotten to you.”

“Perhaps…or more like Lovino has gotten to you.”

Gilbert didn’t know what else to respond with, laying back down, pretending once again his brother was not there.

Ludwig sighed, “listen…this weekend were having a dinner at Antico again…all of us together.”

“Are you going to say you’re marrying Feliciano again?”

“No, it’s just to meet and spend some time together before the wedding. We’re also going to send the invitations that day and Feliciano and I are going to talk about something,” Ludwig sounded his always collectable self, but that’s when Gilbert was reminded of the mission him and Lovino had set forward. Yes, he had to get information…not…sit and ogle over said Italian he had planned this with.

“What are you going to talk about?” Was his very subtle question.

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, “…I’m going to talk about it at the dinner.”

“But what is it?”

“At…the dinner…”

“Yeah, but I want to know now.”

“Gilbert, please, I made it clear, I’m going to talk about it at the dinner.”

“I don’t think I can wait.”

“Sure, you can. It’s this weekend.”

“You know more than anyone I have no patience.”

“Yes, I know, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Come on, what if I don’t even go?”

“Now I really know you’re definitely going.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Lovino will be there.”

Gilbert clicked his tongue, stuck, the effort gone and Ludwig smirked knowing well it had worked. “I still want to know now.”

“You’re being a child. Can you stop so I can go back to focusing on this?” He leaned back to the couch, taking his laptop and continuing his work, forcing himself into the screen.

“What are you even doing?”

“Talking to some investors from my company.”

“Investors? Why would you need investors?”

“It’s for something for when Feliciano and I get to Santo Domingo.”

“I thought your company was in charge of that.”

“Well, uh…things have changed now.” He hoped with how focused he looked, it would be enough for Gilbert to think that he needed some peace and quiet…but this was his brother after all.

“How have things changed to the point that you have to get investors?” He leaned close, clear suspicion.

“It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Investors usually mean a lot of money, Luddy.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Hey, I might not know the full mechanics on how company businesses work, but if I’ve learned something from Opa and TV, investors are never a good word to hear.”

“This time it’s different.”

“How so?”

“None of your business.”

“Luddy! Luddy! Luddy!”

“Oh mein gott, stop! It’s to start my own business,” he shouted, in a fiery vengeance, a loud call that brought Gilbert back to his seating.

For once, Ludwig got the silence he needed to keep on writing, but Gilbert’s eyes were now on him with great intensity. He sat there perturbed, startled…it was just as distracting.

“What now?” He demanded.

“A new business? What do you mean a new business?”

Ludwig sighed, defeated as he lay his head back on the couch. Maybe working on these e-mails in the living room with Gilbert wasn’t a bright idea. “Look, I’m going to talk about it on the dinner.”

“About starting a new business?”

“Yes!” Ludwig was getting exasperated.

“Why would you start a new business? I thought your job had it covered!”

“Look!” He slammed his laptop, standing, “things have changed! It’s…nothing to worry about! Feliciano and I are still getting married, we’re still going to the Dominican Republic. He’ll be happy and I’ll make sure to do everything I can so he’s comfortable.”

“Why do you feel the need to clarify that? Something is wrong! Come on, just tell me-”

“Nothing is wrong! What were worried about is what you will think about it.”

“Then just-”

“The dinner, okay! The dinner!” And he was off the room before Gilbert could question any longer.

< previous chapter

next chapter >

#prumano #on deutschland and italia by lovino valenti #prumano fanfiction #prumano fanfic #prumano fic

21 notes · View notes

raindrop-on-a-spiderweb · 5 years

Text

God's in his Heaven

Still waiting for my laptop to get here... starting to get afraid it might be lost in the mail 😬 I tried to upload this a couple times before and the connection has been bad today so it destroyed my drafts. Crossed fingers!

Anyway, here is the next Young!Patience chapter. Warnings for major creepiness.

***

A neatly manicured finger ran down her homework, which was smudged and stained and scribbled over. The only sound in the room was the tick-tock of the clock.

Patience stood still, hands joined behind her back. She shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for the time to be over. He studied the paper, his porcelain face blank and passive, before he smiled and his dark blue eyes lit up.

He said, "Very good. Your fractions are improving."

She heard him stand up and move over, and flinched as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "You can go play outside for a while."

***

When she had arrived in Mr. Borghese's mansion, she had not been cooperative. She still wasn't. But she was better.

At first he had taken away her belongings and locked her in a bedroom downstairs. He only entered in order to rape her, and after a while the timeless sun setting and rising blurred in her mind, and her loneliness got to her, and she promised to be good if he let her out. He smiled and did so, and she tread lightly around him.

She learned to be afraid of him, and fast.

When he took her out, he expected her to be his perfect little girl. She could growl and grouch as much as she wanted, but she had to smile for the cameras and lie down with him when he wanted to. The lying down was the worst part. It didn't hurt as much as it did the first time, but it still made her sick and uncomfortable. She could barely sleep when he was breathing beside her. To make it better on herself, sometimes she pretended he was her father and cuddled close to him.

St. Joseph's was better than high school, but that wasn't saying much. The students ignored her, and the teachers treated her nicely because of her adopted father, but at least people left her alone. If she wanted to cry by herself in the gym room because Mr. Borghese had wanted to sleep with her early in the morning and she could feel his wet spend sleeping through her skirt during her classes, then people would leave her alone.

Church was worse. He kept her close to his side the entire time, monitoring her interactions with others. She hated being in the Church of the Holy Virgin--her old churches had been small, cozy, made of balsam wood and slowly burning candles, and she had known everyone there. Here, everyone seemed to speak a different language, and the congregation changed each week, although what didn't change was that everyone seemed to know Mr. Borghese.

The first time she had been in confession, she was perplexed that Mr. Borghese didn't give her any instructions, nor accompany her into the booth. But she spilled herself anyway. She told the priest that he forced her whenever he pleased, that he told her she would have his baby and that she was destined to be his housewife whether she wanted it or not. She even told the priest that she had seen him kill her parents--and her voice had broken and she had peered out of the shade at him, leaning against the church dome in his black suit, his hands behind his back.

She held an impossible hope that the Father had called the police, even through the long limousine ride back, and it was only when Leonardo turned the key to the lock of the front door did she realize what she had done wrong.

"There is not a single person you have met who does not answer to me," he said softly. "And every word you told that priest enters my ears."

The priest had seemed so nice. So sympathetic. His voice had even broken a few times.

"He..."

"He will tell me everything." He sat down on his armchair and spread his arms. "Give your daddy a kiss."

She looked at him, rooted to the spot and fists clenched, and eventually, out of fear, climbed onto his lap.

He was warm and smelled flowery, a scent she had become to despise. He shifted her on his lap, settling in until her crotch snugged deeply into his own. He always liked her in this position. Right above his cock.

"How long has it been since you had your monthly?"

There was that typical question. She lied and said, "I'm having it right now."

"Bugiarda. You had it almost a week ago. Still trying to lie to me."

He began to pull her skirt up. He liked it when she wore her uniform. It was neat--he ironed it every night--with a white blouse and a shirt skirt that reached just past her knees.

Patience wanted to cry. Big, wet, sobbing tears. But instead she pressed her face into his shoulder and let him do what he wanted.

When he finally let her go, she ached and throbbed. "Go to your room. I'll come up later and bring you some cocoa."

She did so without complaining.

***

The next day was a Monday. She was watching cartoons on the TV after school, her favorite, Rocky and Bullwinkle.

A man came in. Tall, stubble on his chin. He stated at her with a mixture of suspicion and sympathy. She recognized him. "Goose Eppy?"

"Giuseppe." He sat down beside her, tan trench coat and all. He watched Rocky and Bullwinkle for a while, laughing at jokes he couldn't understand. "So you live with him now?" He said. "Where are you from?"

"Massachusetts," she muttered.

After an uncomfortable silence, he said, "Ah, Massachusetts. My family is Neapolitan."

"That's bullshit."

"Pardon?"

"Neopolitan is made-up. It's an ice cream, not a place."

Giuseppe stared blankly at her, but was saved from answering by Leonardo entering the room. They spoke briefly in Italian, then he stood up and left her, leaving her to watch Rocky and Bullwinkle by herself, but with her ears pricked.

Patience ran to the locked door, then pressed her ears against it. Their voices were fading as they left down the stairs.

She went around the vast wooden mansion. It was far too big for her to explore, even if she had wanted to. But she he found a grate to the cellar hidden beneath a tall tuft of grass, and it was so rusted she pried it open and wriggled in.

The edges of the grates dug into her breasts, but she wriggled on, until she came to a wire air conditioning unit, which she peered through.

She saw a clean metal room. Like a veterinarian's room. Giuseppe and Leonardo were talking to each other in Italian beside a metal wheeling cart. Something covered with a black bag was on it.

Patience narrowed her eyes. It smelled like disenfectant in there.

Kneeling was beginning to hurt. She had to sit with her knees together, or else she would hurt between her legs. He never gave her any time to heal.

Giuseppe pulled the black bag off with a flourish, and what Patience saw made her heartrate skyrocket. It was a human--naked, his face battered beyond recognition. It didn't even look like a face. It was a mass of black and blue.

Patience pressed her hands over her mouth. She wiggled backwards until her knees reached the grass.

The face of the man kept flashing in her mind. She hugged her knees and looked back at the air conditioning grate. What had she gotten herself into?

***

Patience twisted her hands in her skirt. The waiting was making her nerves heighten. "Why does it have to kill the bunny?"

"Do you want a pet bunny?"

"No! I just don't want the bunny to die!"

"Don't you want to find out if you're having a baby?"

"I do, but..." she hated the thought of living with the fear of having to drop out of school, but she liked bunnies.

The doctor, a man with a thick Santa Claus beard, came out. "The tests were negative."

She wilted in relief. One cautious glance at Leonardo, and his mouth had tightened somewhat. "Very well. Thank you for running the tests, Heinrich."

He had to meet a friend at a restaurant downtown. She wasn't hungry, so he let her wander around the shops ("stay where I can see you").

Patience wandered around, peering through a toy shop. Stuffed animals and train sets, little kid stuff. Leonardo kept her room well-stocked with those, like she was an eight-year-old or something. She was more interested in fashion magazines and singers like Frank Sinatra, to his trepadation.

The minutes ticked by, to her annoyance. How long was he taking? Stupid jerk was probably having one of his long-winded boring conversations that he had with his friends.

Patience turned a corner and something caught her eye.

Like a golden altar, it sat there. Blue painted eyes and pink quirked lips. An hourglass waist and a blue shoulderless dress. Fresh and vibrant and fashionable and so cool.

She couldn't stop staring. When Leonardo came to look for her she was still staring.

"Can I get this?" She said. She never asked for anything, but she REALLY wanted this.

When Leonardo saw, his lips curled. "Don't you want a baby doll instead? I'll get you any baby doll you want."

"No. I want this."

"It's too expensive," said Leonardo, who was a millionaire. "Come on. We need to get home in time for dinner. I'll take you here some other time."

Leonardo towed her out, her still protesting, and she was sullen as she got in the car and headed home. He put on her favorite station and tried to sweet-talk her, but she ignored him.

Halfway home he slammed on the breaks and pulled into an alley.

Leonardo closed his hand around her jaw and yanked her face to look at him.

"You will never," he said to her quietly, "Be like that Barbie doll. You will never be blonde. You will never have a boyfriend. You will never "hit the sunset strip" or whatever nonsense that is. Your destiny is to be a housewife and mother. My housewife and mother."

Her eyes were watering at his iron-hard grip on her jaw. He put his mouth next to her head until his warm breath washed over her ear.

"You will never go to college. You will never be a police officer or lawyer like you keep whining about wanting to be. You will have a baby after you finish at St. Joseph's, and you will be my wife like you were meant to be, as is the best you could have hoped for in your useless life. And you will be satisfied with it."

He let her go, and she rubbed her jaw, tears starting in her eyes.

His voice turned soft. "You can have some ice cream when we get back, how does that sound?" He said. She started ahead, tears blurring her eyes like rain on a windshield.

She thought about Barbie, but the painted face seemed so far away now. Blond and smiling and happy, not the pale, freckled, trembling little girl in the passenger's seat.

I guess he is right, some part of her whispered. I'll never be Barbie. I'll never ride in a convertible or flirt or go to college.

All I can do is dream.

***

The phone sat there, black and shiny.

She had the napkin hidden under her mattress. She had memorized the numbers. She agonized and agonized, aware of the time ticking away, before she picked it up.

Leonardo was becoming discontented. She was not conceiving, and was due to graduate St. Joseph's with honors. She had already had several scholarship offers. He had made her stay home from school several times during exams, to sleep with him and force his seed deep down. She could see her life closing in on her, and so she strove in school, aching to attend a university, any university, as long as she could get away from him.

The cords to all the other telephones were disconnected. She knew this was the only chance she had.

Patience dialed the numbers, heart thumping. She was praying desperately for that rough, growly voice to answer, but a different voice spoke from the other end.

"Pronto?"

"Uh," she said, startled at the unfamiliar voice.

"Chi parla?"

"I..."

"Who is this?" Growled the voice.

"I want to talk to Salvatore Mallozzi."

"Who do you think you are, to talk to the boss?"

"I--"

The dial tone rang dully in her ear.

"Salvatore Mallozzi?" said a gentle voice beside her. "Just who do you think you're talking to?"

#bonus chapter

47 notes · View notes