Alessio
The man gestured towards a young girl standing alone in front of a board, displaying her art. She looked lonely, and a sad smile was stuck on her face. There was no friend by her side, and everyone walked past her art.
“Sure, we’ll take a look,” the words left my mouth before I could truly think about it. The situation just looked fucked up, and despite me being an asshole, I did have somewhat of a sympathy for unfairly treated children.
I pulled Mena with me, and we made our way towards the girl’s display. Instantly, she grew a big toothy grin on her face.
Mena knelt down to the girl’s level and shook her hand.
“What is your name?”
“Lily,” the girl replied.
Mena was quiet for a second, pushing a few strands of Lily’s hair behind her ear. “I like your dress, Lily,” she had her way of making people feel special. “What do you have to show us?”
The girl quickly reacted to Mena’s question, giving her an explanation of her art while I stepped back and watched.
I ‘just relaxed and let her do her thing’-those were the same words she used in the car, and she was fucking good at doing her thing, whatever that thing was, so I let her.
It all came so naturally to Mena. Her glow, her kindness-and all of it was real. She didn’t have to fake her interest like half the people in this room, including me-because it was genuine. It made me respect her even more.
That’s my Mena.
“And what is this?” Mena asked, pointing to a painting.
“It’s a bear,” Lily explained, her eyes shining.
Mena turned to me with a grin. “Can you believe that? She painted your portrait.”
I laughed because from her, I could take it. I was usually the one teasing her-I deserved it.
“Your work looks great, Lily,” I joined the conversation. “I can’t wait to see more of it in the future.”
“Thank you, Sir!”
“No, don’t thank me-”
“No, really,” the dad, Derek, interrupted. “Thank you. Both of you,” his expression softened.
People had different opinions about the Fanuccis, but once in a while, it was nice to get a smile.
“Our daughter got here on a scholarship provided by the Fanuccis. It’s quite sad, but not one person has come to look at her work because we’re from a simple working class family.”
As I turned around, I noticed a small crowd beginning to gather around Lily’s table. It was a really poor mindset, but that was what these people were like.
‘If the Fanuccis liked it, it must be something special.’
“Now they do,” I told Derek, patting his back. “You have a talented little girl. Good luck.”
With Mena by my side, we walked further into the gallery. “That’s so sad,” she said immediately when we were far enough away For them not to hear us anymore.
“It happens quite a lot,” I admitted, seeing the sad pout on her lips. She had yet to open up about her family, but it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to think that she might have seen herself in that little girl.
Nervously, she bit her bottom lip, “Do you think it’s like that for Naty?”
“Of course it isn’t. Naty is a Fanucci,” I stated, and this time I did think about my words. Better yet, I meant every word of it.
Mena’s mouth was slightly open at me claiming her daughter. I had accidentally let it slip before, in Miami, but back then it was a mishap. We weren’t emotionally connected to each other like we are now.
She giggled, big and bright. Then her expression changed to a look of worry before she covered it with a smile. “And what am I?” she playfully asked, but I knew she was serious.
Without hesitation, I gently grabbed her chin. “A Fanucci,” I told her. The name suited her, just like she suited being by my side, in my life, in my family. I leaned in closer to give her a kiss which she returned.
Our moment was shattered by a bunch of screaming children, yelling ‘Ew’ as they witnessed our affection.
“No, Mommy-my eyes!” one particularly loud voice exclaimed, causing the adults around to chuckle or shake their heads in amusement. Mena turned away with flushed cheeks.
Naty stood beside her work, horrified, with Melody right beside her. They seemed to be a big hit because a bunch of their classmates and parents surrounded them. Although, I bet it probably had something to do with the Fanucci name. Again.
“Guys, this is the ugly brother and Naty’s pretty Mommy I was telling you about,” Melody couldn’t last a second without bullying her older brother.
“Her mouth?” Mena whispered as we approached them. “It’s something.”
I silently agreed. She was like a smaller girl version of Gian-but Melody gained extra points for being the cutest sister one could wish for.
Naty ran into Mena’s arms to give her a hug, and then, to my surprise, she wrapped her arms around me as well.
“Thank you for coming,” she sighed, looking up at me with those grateful brown eyes. “I thought you wouldn’t come, but you did.”
I had a hard time listening to her words because the way she had said it, the way she sounded too relieved, was not how it should be for a six-year old.
It made me think of that useless father of hers, and how many times he had broken her heart for her to assume that I wouldn’t show up when I told her I would.
When Mena expressed that she needed a good father figure for Naty, I said I was aware, but at night, I was terrified. That thought haunted me because I realized I had to step up in ways I hadn’t considered before. I wasn’t there yet, not even close-but this could be a start.
As I brushed my hand through her hair, I made a promise to myself to always be there for her, no matter what. “I told you I’d come, I’m here. Always,” I smiled back.
Mena leaned her head against my shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.