Page 83 of Bitter Poetry

More silence.

Don’t fucking cry.

“I swear, I’m going to stab the man in the dick. I’ve started self-defense classes in the evenings, by the way. They’re very popular… which might be down to the instructor being so hot. Mateo.”Her voice takes on a dreamy note as she stretches out the word.“He used to be a navy SEAL, or so Grace says. She’s also in the class… half of my friends are, and their moms. Just as soon as I’m proficient, I’m going to kick Ettore’s ass.”

I can just imagine this class full of horny teenagers… and their moms. I laugh. It feels good. I hear her snicker on the other side of the line.

“Jessica, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re never going to be mission ready to take out a don.”

“Fine then. My acting is on point. I’ll make Mateo fall for me, and he can kill Ettore for us… scratch that, it won’t be acting. He’s got golden retriever vibes. His face turned crimson when Grace’s mom felt him up when he was showing her a move. Her acting is terrible. None of us fell for her I-can’t-do this-move bullshit… Hey, maybe you could come along?”

As if Ettore would ever approve that… My next breath is heavy.

“Don’t cry, big sis. I’ll stay home, be here when you arrive. I’m ahead on all my studies. We’re mostly into wrap-up stuff now, anyway.”

“No, please don’t. You break up in a couple of weeks. We can do something together, then.”

“Fine then,”she says.“It’s a date.”

There was a time when I wanted to protect her from the ugly side of life. When did our rolls change? When did she start being my rock? I only know that she is. “I love you, Jess.”

“I love you too, Carmela. Next time you see Christian, tell him he’s a shit bodyguard and a pig, and I’m going to practice my dick crushing moves on him.”

She hangs up.

A laugh bubbles up.

Please don’t ever change, baby sis.

Just speaking to her makes me feel better.

But it fades and then I feel twice as sad.

When I enter the kitchen, Brigida is busy with early prep work for tonight’s dinner. She slides a coffee across the table in front of me without a word and goes back to her work.

When the kitchen door opens, I don’t even bother looking up. Brigida’s sudden stillness is what tips me off that something is wrong.

The door shuts with a soft thud.

My exhale is sharp. A lump in my throat prevents words. I wouldn’t know what to say if I could speak.

He smirks. “You seem surprised, babe?”

Babe, right here in front of Brigida… As for being surprised, I definitely am.

That I would ever see him again.

That the fading marks on his face tell a story.

I don’t know a damn thing about myself other than I wanted to punish him for following my husband’s orders.

And yes, I wanted to punish him for touching me and those crass words about me being aroused.

I wanted to punish him because I hate my life, and I needed someone to pay.

I don’t recognize myself and this creature I have turned into.

Is this me reaching breaking point?