Massimo left early this morning. The vacuum is running downstairs, so Samira must be here. She’ll be mopping next. I have her routine down. It’s hard to believe I’ve been here close to a month and although Massimo might not love me, maybe I can use my mind and degree for something worthwhile.
I pull out a pantsuit, it’s chic these days. Rain hits the bedroom windows and I wonder how Massimo and I will make up. I’m sure he’s been through worse breakups if Samira’s stories are true.
He seemed upset enough to go out drinking, no doubt Savio took good care of him after we got home. Those two are inseparable.
Laura calls.
“I haven’t heard from you, I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” she says.
I put the phone on speaker so I can dress.
“Yes, yes. Massimo planned a romantic side trip for us, then kind of ruined it. I do have a nice engagement ring though.”
I pull on my undergarments and slip into the pantsuit, look at my watch to make sure I’m not late and I’m good. I’m sure one of the guys has the car ready for me this morning. Massimo is always on top of my security.
“I have an interview today, at the hospital in Florence. I think I can work with kids and be safe.”
“Oh, that’s so exciting. Good luck.”
I plop down on the seat at my makeup table in the bathroom. Before I lift a brush, I look at the ring on my finger and pull it off. I turn it to see inside the band and there, it is, Valentina & Massimo. What the fuck does that mean?
I slip it back on. I can’t deny I love the bling. God help me for being in love with my future husband who seems to only love me for my body. Why buy me when he could have anyone? Sure, he helped Papa out, but look where that left Papa in the end. Would he still be here if he didn’t make a deal with the devil? The devil with a heart of black lava like Mt. Etna?
Laura called him the devil. How did she know he was so dark? I found him to be different, interesting, and as the days together pass, I realize we bumped into each other and it’s his eyes that drew me in. The fact that I saw the same loneliness in them, the same look I have in mine.
“Thanks, and how is Marco?” I ask as I apply foundation to my face.
“Fantastic, we’re getting married in June, but it will be terribly hot.”
“June is good.” I’m going through the motions as yesterday weighs heavily on my mind. Talking to Laura is good because I’ve been too occupied to be a good friend since I moved here.
“He rented a place a town over, not far from the water.”
This strikes me as odd; he doesn’t make that kind of money. Most Italians live in condos that are on top of each other, the area she’s describing are individual units, not high rises. They’ve been refurbished and sell for lots of euros.
“That’s quite the area.”
“It’s close enough to Mama and Papa, you know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How are your folks?” Her father, Paulo, was one of Papa’s bosses, it’s how Laura and I got to be such good friends. Our fathers used to get together all the time when we were kids for family nights. The ones where ‘the family’ had a different connotation. We were kids, what did we know?
“Great, why do you ask?”
“I haven’t seen them in forever.”
“Yeah, but really, your brother is doing good, things are running like they should.”
“Mm, no problems with my brother running operations?”
“Not that I know of. Papa goes to work like usual.”
“Great, well, I’m heading out, wish me luck.”
“Luck.”
I hang up and finish my handiwork with lipstick.