I think my family has a thing for black cars. The bright red Lexus, my baby, is the only bit of color in our driveway.
I’m counting the number of hours I’ve been gone as I gather the courage to enter the house. A quick glance in the rearview mirror tells me I look like I’ve been fucked. My hair is an unruly mess flowing haphazardly down my back. My lips are stained red from the lipstick I never actually washed off and I still have a bit of mascara under my eyes.
I know behind those doors, the men in my life are waiting. They want to tell me I’m irresponsible, that I’m wrong, that I’m thoughtless. They’ll be disgusted when they see that I’m a mess, and that I’ve been thoroughly fucked.
They’re hypocrites. I love my brothers, but they do the same thing. They fuck any girl that will spread her legs for them, but the thought of their little sister getting the same treatment is bad, and dirty.
I wonder what it’s like to be so ignorant.
I wonder what it feels like to be in charge and demand everyone else listen to you, or else. With them, it’s always the ominous or else. When we were kids the or else normally ended with tickling or something gross like farts. As adults, I’m sure they would never hurt me, but I know for a fact that they would hurt others.
Like Joey.
Like any man who bothers to talk to me, really.
They may not physically hurt me, but they’re not above causing pain.
I feel trapped in this house. This big, beautiful mansion of a house and it feels like a jail cell. I am completely suffocated here.
They don’t get that though.
Men want women to be beautiful and dumb. Maybe that’s the key to happiness, really. If I was sillier, naive even, would anything really even bother me? Is it true that silly and pretty are the best things for a girl to be? But then again, do I really want to give up knowledge for happiness?
I know they’re waiting for me, and there’s no reason to draw this encounter out even longer so I step out of my car and head for the entrance.
“Jesus Christ.” Gian is the first one to speak. His eyes rake up and down me, he’s checking me out but not in a good way. He’s checking for bruises, any sign of distress, any reason to determine this is not my fault. He’s coming up short, though. I can see it in his eyes, he’s disappointed. He would rather it be something else, anything other than me just getting away on purpose.
He scrubs a hand down his face and I take the moment to look over him. Red eyes, chin covered in scruff, my brother who is normally put together looks rough. It sends a sharp pain through my heart. I don’t actually enjoy worrying them, but if they knew what I was doing, Liam would be dead and I would be locked in an ivory tower.
They don’t trust me with Italian men we’ve known forever. Why would they ever trust me if they knew I was with Liam O’Connor.
“Where were you?” The question is filled with anger, but that’s not how it comes out. He sounds sad and distressed. Behind him Gio sits slumped into one of the sitting room chairs with a glass of dark liquor in his hand. My father sits next to him with his head hung. He’s filled with disappointment, I can sense it from here.
“I went out.” I mumble, it’s not technically a lie but it’s also not an answer that satisfies Gian. He’s seething looking at me. It’s obvious he can tell I was up to something and because I ditched Andrew he knows I’m hiding it.
“Enough.” Giuseppe waves a hand, standing and silencing Gian.
“Gemma,” my father's voice is pained. “You can’t do this. I was worried all night, do you understand that?”
“Yeah, I’m s—”
“No.” He dismisses. “There are things, Gemma. Things you don’t understand. If I say you can’t go out without an enforcer, you don’t go out.” He waves a hand dramatically. “You never fucking listen. You’re too stubborn.” He points a finger in my direction. “You need to grow up.”
“I am grown up.” I shoot back. “I think that’s the actual problem here. You all want to pretend I’m a child but you forget I’m an adult now. I can leave the house without a babysitter. You need to understand that.”
He marches to me quicker than I anticipate, jabbing a finger against my sternum. His eyes are bulging as he looks down at me. “That’s not how it works, Gemma. Get yourself together, your mother would be disappointed.”
The whole world stands still at the moment. As soon as the words left his lips I feel an icy freeze take over my body. I’m cold and immobile. Nobody says a word as my dad marches away, slamming his office door behind him. Gio and Gian both stay still, eyes cast down, avoiding me.
I flex my toes, praying for the feeling to come back. My body is betraying me, fear and sadness have paralyzed me. As soon as the feeling returns, I run.
I run right for my room, like a child, and slam the door behind me.
That was the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me.
It’s Gio who comes to check on me first.
Of my brothers, Gio tends to be the more compassionate one. He’s the middle child, I think he grew up trying to appease both Gian and I, and kept us from killing each other. Not that Gian’s awful, he’s just very controlling. He doesn’t like people to step out of bounds, bless the woman that ever decides to marry him.