17
Mia
For the rest of the night, our bodies are incapable of staying apart. We fuck and love our way through the early hours of the morning where we only get up to pee or to eat our breakfast, brought by Sophia and left outside the door. The rest of our existence is played out on the double bed in the room where I was once held hostage. Who would have thought it?
After we showered, I put on my panties and a soft, comfortable t-shirt. Antonio, with nothing but the towel around his waist, throws himself back on the bed. I’m standing by the window, looking out at the men made to guard the house, then at Antonio, his eyes closed, to the gun that still rests on the table. It’s like having my head half in the water, allowing me to see both the rippling surface and the serene depths beneath all at once. Each scar on his torso reminds me that this man is perhaps incapable of separating himself from that surface world outside this room.
“What is it?” He asks, squinting open his right eye at me.
“Nothing.” I walk past the table. Something is almost tempting me to pick up the handgun.
This could all end now, a small voice tells me from the back of my mind. You could leave this room, try and go back to the life you had before, or to start again.
I could, but that’s not what I want—not anymore.
“Nothing? You’ve been staring at me for a full five minutes.” He pushes himself up so that his back rests against the headboard, his abdomen tight. “Don’t hesitate now, not after all we’ve done.”
I drop onto the bed beside him and then lean my head against his chest. “I’m just wondering when you’re going to get pulled away again.”
“Pulled away? What do you mean?”
I take his hand and rub my index finger across his bruised knuckles from God knows what.
“Back to this,” I say.
He looks at his hand and thinks it over. “Listen, it’s not always like this. We just happen to be facing an extraordinary set of circumstances.”
He pushes my head back down to his chest. “You know, when I was a kid, I had no idea about the family business. Didn’t even think about it. I guess my mother did a good job of keeping life normal for us kids. I mean, we went to school, we had our friends, played outside, and we were pretty lucky.”
“How could you not notice all the guys hanging outside the house?” I point to the window as if I have to clarify myself.
“We just thought we had a lot of uncles, or maybe I didn’t even take the time to think about it. We didn’t question it because it seemed so normal. I think I spent most of my time either in the backyard or in the kitchen with my mom and aunt. My God, did I tell you about my mother’s carbonara?” Antonio kisses his pursed fingers.
“Did your old man ever do any cooking?”
I think back to the life Antonio took me from. “He did some. The go-to dish was always chicken cacciatore. He told me he learned the sauce from his grandmother.”
“Not bad. You know we have a restaurant, and the food is really good. I’ll take you there, and next door there’s a little club too. You ever heard of it—Boulevard XXX?”
I shake my head with a will to follow a seemingly normal conversation, and although we may temporarily avoid the facts that brought me to this room, there’s no hiding the emotion from my face when reality refuses to be pushed away. The confusion of our whole thing, whatever the hell it is, is enough for a feeling of nausea to rise uncontrollably in my stomach, begging me to address our circumstance head-on.
I sit up, and shift my body to face him. “What are we doing here?”
“Well,” he shifts his hand to squeeze my ass, “I was thinking…”
“No, seriously.” I deny his touch, and shift away so that there’s a gap between us. “Antonio, I know how absurd this thing we have with each other is, but I need to know that I’m not just a piece of meat for you to use then throw out in the trash, because if that’s what you think this is, you better get rid of me now.”
“Come on, it ain’t like that.” He raises an eyebrow. “I swear.”
“Then what is it like?”
“Look, Mia. The longer you live in this life, the more comfortable you become with the unpredictability of it all.” Antonio rubs his eyes and moves his head to one side. “I’m not a man of many words, or with some deep insight into the things I do. That’s not who I am. The plan was to come to your house and take something back that belonged to us. Then I saw you, and I felt something when you stepped out of the shower—and I don’t mean just a hard-on, something else. So I took what I wanted and acted in the moment.”
Now I’m the one raising my eyebrows. “Took what you wanted?”
Antonio releases a deep sigh, his eyes moving from left to right as he tries to articulate himself. “The best way I can describe it is like this—in my world, you’re better off being straightforward with yourself. I see too many guys, capodecina, captains in my line of business who retreat back into their own minds. All of them are overthinking and never explain their true intentions, which granted, sometimes is needed, but isn’t always the best way to live your life. Me? Well, if you wrong me, you’re going to hear about it. If there’s something I want, I’ll take it. The less bullshit, the easier it is to survive, mentally. And when it comes to us, I want you and I think you want me too. That’s all we have to care about. The rest is just noise.”
Hearing Antonio trying to explain himself leaves me fighting to find an opposing opinion to his reasoning. And maybe it’s the lack of sleep or just the fact that I can feel a real affection growing toward him, but there’s almost something admirable to his straightforward way of thinking, something primal.