Page 22 of Bitter Poetry

“I need you to be safe, Mela.”

I shake my head, tears already pooling in my eyes. “Don’t use that name. Don’t say it ever again.”

The nurse is trying to get him to lie back—he’s being stubborn. The damn machine is still beeping.

The nurse turns the alarm off, at least. My father relents and leans back against the pillows; accepting the pills she hands him in a small plastic container, along with a glass of water.

He takes the pills with a grimace.

The nurse returns to the machine, presses several buttons, then rechecks his vitals. Satisfied, she exits the room.

I’m furious.

I’m devastated.

But I’m also scared.

“And you think Ettore can keep me safe?” I remember telling myself yesterday that I didn’t have to trust Ettore. I just had to trust my father’s trust in him.

“I do.” His voice is weak. The funeral was too much yesterday. I wish we’d delayed it rather than suffer a setback like this.

My hands are shaking. I pace restlessly before the bay window, trying to figure out how my life took this turn. “We only buried Mama yesterday,” I whisper. I feel like I’ve just stepped into an alternate universe. The emotions rushing through me are wild and uncontrolled. I cried so much yesterday, but I woke up determined to focus on Papa and Jessica, the family I have left.

And Dante. How I was ready for him to sweep me away on my eighteenth birthday and make all this right. I didn’t even care about a fancy wedding or college. I just wanted to become his wife because, in my mind, he represented a source of stability in this tumultuous time.

I keep waiting to wake up from this nightmare.

“Dante?”

“He already knows,” my father says.

My eyes snap to him. “That’s it? He just meekly walks away?”

“What do you expect, Carmela? He is a good man. One who understands the family always comes first. He knows this is best for you and Jessica. He accepts Ettore is the right man to keep you both safe.”

My legs have the constitution of cooked noodles. I sit down in the chair beside the window and stare blindly out.

What was I expecting?

Dante is no white knight about to rush in and save me. He puts the family first. He has his own agenda.

I can’t cry. There is nothing left. My thoughts cartwheel over yesterday’s events, how attentive Ettore was, how Dante barely said a word. This was already decided; maybe it had been for a while. They were just waiting to get Mama’s funeral out of the way before they told me.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I say.

“I know that you can.”

The words linger between us. Does Ettore’s sister know? I believe she must. Damn, that woman is going to be my sister.

Cosmo will be my brother by law.

I shudder.

I wish I could accept all my father says on faith, but I’m struggling.

Jessica is going to be devastated.

A sharp spike of protectiveness pierces the numb shroud. Dante is already gone, along with the dream of a happy ever after with him. There is no out. I have no life skills—it’s not like I can run away from this. People with far more street smarts than me have tried and failed. And I don’t want to leave Jessica either way, nor my father, although I don’t much understand nor even like him right now.