Amelia
There are no words that can convey how pissed off I am that Frankie thinks he can already control me. We haven’t even been married a couple of hours before he’s dictating who will be in my life and who won’t. I have to watch my mother be escorted out of Alessandro’s house, and no one does a thing to try and stop them. Is there no respect for my family? Or what I want? Yes, my mom can be harsh, but once you get to know her, you see a different side of her.
After the wedding, I am allowed to stay at my place for a few more days before the
honeymoon, after which I must move into Frankie’s place, signaling the end of my life as I know it.
The fight we had at the wedding weighs on me as I start to pack another box. I don’t
understand why he gets so fired up. He clearly doesn’t care about what I want or need. He is just following orders like the dutiful son and brother that he is.
I start to fill the box with the little trinkets my father has bought me over the years. Every year
he gets me a beautiful figurine from Sicily, a tradition he started when he used to go over for business trips there.
I sigh and sit back, picking up my glass of wine and sipping from it. I feel like I’m just going
to drink my way through this marriage if I can.
I decide to pack a few more boxes before I head to see my mom. Just because Frankie said it wasn’t allowed won’t stop me. I need to apologize for the way she was treated at the house. She didn’t deserve that.
Once I finish this box, I realize that my wine glass is empty, so I go to fill it. I shouldn’t get too
drunk before I see my mother. She doesn’t like that I enjoy a drink. She thinks I’m on my way to becoming an alcoholic.
My mind drifts back to Frankie. I wish I could figure out his angle and what he really wants from me. I wish he would just admit he hates me so we could both move on with our lives. I wonder if he’ll let me sleep with other men since I’m definitely not sleeping with him-never again, not in his wildest and wettest dreams. For a brief moment, I think about having children with him and get a sour taste in my mouth.
What if the family wants me to provide them with new heirs? Lord, I think I will kill myself
first. I put the thought out of my mind. I’ll have to deny that issue if it arises.
Besides, I don’t think he’s in a rush for children. He’s been weird since the wedding. I have to
meet him for lunch every day. That’s ‘our thing,’ and sometimes he speaks to me nicely, and sometimes he just snaps at me for making a simple suggestion. The man is like a broken faucet, hot and cold, hot and cold… wait, isn’t that a song?
Yes, Katy Perry. I smile to myself. I have such a good memory. Okay, maybe I am a little tipsy. I guess I better get to Mom before I get any further along.
I freshen up and grab my keys and phone. I don’t have to order an uber because Frankie has given me my own driver. I climb into the car. “Take me to Sixty-Four A, Third Avenue.” I don’t say please. These are Frankie’s men. If they want my respect, they will earn it.
The drive feels like it takes forever, and I come to realize I’m a lot soberer than I thought, and suddenly, I’m filled with dread. I’m not sure how my mom is going to take this apology.
One thing is for sure: if I can stand up to Frankie every day, I can stand up to anyone.
I walk up to her apartment, leaving the driver to park the Audi. I knock on my mother’s door, and it swings open. A maid in uniform smiles. “Mrs. Sorvino, such a pleasure to see you. Your mother is in the sunroom.” She gestures for me to walk in, and I do so, heading straight for what my mother refers to as the sunroom. I don’t think apartments even have those, but it has lovely large windows, and it is very sunny.
“Amelia, I thought I’d never see you again. What took you so long to come to see me?” my mother asks, standing up and air kissing my cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Mama, I haven’t had a chance to get away.” I won’t admit the truth that I’ve been a bit afraid to defy Frankie and had to work up the courage. “I’m so sorry for how Francesco spoke to you at the wedding. He shouldn’t have done that.”
“He’s a brute.” My mother sighs, all but dramatically collapsing back into her seat. I sit opposite her as she continues. “My blood pressure was through the roof, and I had to get two massages to release the tension that built up. I can’t believe you had to marry that ogre.”
“I know,” I say softly. “I will speak to him about letting you come back.”
“You think I want to? After how he treated me? A formal apology and perhaps covering my
medical costs would be a step in the right direction.” She reaches over and takes my hand in hers. “Oh, my sweetheart, you mustn’t frown so much. You’ll get worry lines. In fact, I think it’s too late.”
She sniffs the air as I open my mouth to protest. “Have you been drinking? Amelia, it’s not even midday!”
I sigh. “Mama, I’m a grown woman. I can drink a glass of wine during the day if I want to.”
“Is that something your husband says you can do?” She clicks her tongue. “They know no
culture and have no honor. Although after your choices, I suppose he might be one of the better ones.” “Not all my choices are bad,” I say loudly, and she looks at me with wide eyes.
“I didn’t say they were, but honestly, Amelia, a lot of them are,” she clutches her pearl
necklace, playing with it. “I blame myself. I didn’t teach you how to judge character properly.”
“You’re the worst judge of character there is,” I stand up. “And let’s not talk about drinking, Mama. You were blind drunk for many years after Papa left. I would go days without food, without a bath. And when you were awake, you’d pick on me all the time.”
“Honestly, Amelia, your memory is terrible. That didn’t happen at all,” my mother flusters. “I had some problems, but I never neglected you.”
“That’s all anyone in this family has done. Papa would travel constantly, and then he left for years only to come take me away from you and give me a cold, loveless life. You constantly criticize me. I’m too fat, too skinny. I look tired, I look old, I have saggy boobs.” She opens her mouth, but I hold a hand up. “Enough, Mama. I didn’t need Francesco to defend me at the wedding. I can defend myself. If you want to stay in my life, then you need to make a choice to change how you treat me because I won’t stand for it anymore.”
Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I turn to leave. I paused at the door. “Another thing, Mama, you shouldn’t frown so much. Your worry lines are far worse than mine.” Feeling triumphant, I leave the apartment and hurry down the stairs before I lose the little bravery I have.
Frankie
“I don’t understand why you are so insistent that I go?” I ask Alessandro, pacing in front of his desk. “I have several projects that I need to take care of.”
“I’m more than capable of handling my own business, Frankie.” my brother looks at me with
steely eyes. “You haven’t taken a break in as long as I’ve known you, and that’s your whole life. Go, have a honeymoon, get to know Amelia because you’re tied together now.”
I wave dismissively. “There’s plenty of time for that.” “This isn’t a request.” Alessandro sits back. “Understand?” “Understood,” I say, leaving the office.
Amelia is waiting in the car outside. This was my last-ditch effort to try and get out of going on a seaside honeymoon.
It’s a long drive to the resort and an even more tedious process to check in, but once our
luggage is brought up, Amelia and I are left standing in the living area of our room. Her bedroom is behind her, and mine is behind me.
Amelia looks around awkwardly. “I think I’ll go tan. What are you going to do?” “Watch the news,” I say, glancing at the wall-mounted flat screen.
“Seriously? You come all the way to the ocean to watch the news. Why don’t you grab a book off the shelf, come to the beach, and read? Lord knows you probably need to work on your tan.” she grabs the handle of her luggage. “It’s a once-off invite.”
I feel suitably scolded and sigh, the tension mounting between my shoulders. I go to change into my swimming trunks and grab my sunglasses before I browse through the books that are available on the shelf in the living area. I find a decent horror-looking novel and grab it-Buried, it’s called. Its cover is worn from being read many times, telling me it’s a good choice.
Amelia comes out, and I gawk at her, glad I have my sunglasses on so she can’t see the lust in my eyes. She’s wearing a bright yellow bikini top and bottom, with a sheer blue and purple sarong tied around her waist.
“This place does have towels down there, don’t they?” she asks, looking at me. “What?”
“Nothing,” I clear my throat. “And yes, they generally do.” “See, you’re taking my advice?” She says.
I hold the book up. “Who doesn’t like a good horror on the beach?”
“I can’t believe I’m going to ask you this, but when we get down to the beach, will you rub oil on me so I can get an even tan.” She blushes. “I’m only asking you because I don’t want some shady guy touching me.”
“So, at least you don’t consider me shady.” I smile, and she swats my arm.
“Don’t get too clever. This doesn’t change anything.”
“I know, but we’re stuck together now, so let’s try to be nice, at least,” I say calmly. She eyes
me, but I turn for the door.
Once on the beach, we find two hotel loungers with towels and make ourselves comfortable. I watch as Amelia rubs oil everywhere she can reach before she holds the bottle out to me and turns around to rest on her stomach.
I kneel in the sand beside her lounger and rub a generous amount of oil on her skin. The sheen
of the oil makes her skin feel and look luxurious.
I wipe my hand down my leg to get the excess oil off and put the bottle down, going back to my lounger. I rest back and open my book to the first page, and that’s how we remain-soaking in the sunlight as I read, and Amelia, I presume, is sleeping.
A waiter from the hotel comes around to offer us drinks, and I nudge Amelia. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Hmm, a cocktail, you pick,” she turns her head to glance at me.
“We’ll take a cosmopolitan and a beer,” I say, returning to my book.
“Is it any good?” she asks suddenly.
“What?” I look at her, confused.
“The book,” she says.
I smile. “It’s quite creepy, actually. Not an author I’ve read before, but if the plot keeps
developing like this, I might read her other books.”
Amelia smiles. “How does it feel to actually relax?” she props herself up on her forearms.
I run a free hand over my stubble. “I don’t know. Is this relaxing?”
“Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about work!”
“I’m always thinking about work. If you want something done right, you do it yourself,” I say, looking back at my book.
She lies back down. Her face turned toward me. “Yes, but a break doesn’t hurt.”
I nod. “Except there’s going to be a pile of shit for me to fix when I get back.” I give her a
grin. “But nothing I can’t handle.”
“Well,” she declares, grinning back at me, “there’s nothing you can do about it now, so there’s no point worrying about it. You should just unwind and relax.”
The waiter arrives with our drinks, and I take my beer. Amelia sits up and takes her cocktail,
sipping on it.
I turn my attention back to the book, and Amelia reclines against the backrest and looks out
over the ocean as she drinks.
“I should have brought a book, too,” she muses, and I wonder if she’s talking to me again.
“Tell me about yours.”
I snort. “It’s about a haunted underground mansion and a film crew that goes to prove it isn’t
haunted. So far, they’re getting slaughtered like lambs.” I look over at her. “I can lend it to you while I have a nap.”
Amelia shakes her head. “I’m more of a romantic comedy fan. I didn’t realize you were into
horror.”
It dawns on me that the tension between my shoulders is dissipating. I feel like I’m finally relaxing. “I was when I was a kid. I loved horror books and horror movies. It was an escape from the family for me.”
“You seem to love your family, though,” she comments.
“I do,” I say seriously. “My family is my everything, and I take it very seriously. They have given me everything in life, and I would be nowhere without them.”
She falls silent for a moment, sipping on her cocktail some more.
I sip on my beer, feeling slightly awkward. “This is nice,” I say, “that we can talk without
trying to kill each other.”
“It doesn’t change how I feel,” she says quietly. “I’ve been sold like a possession. That’s all
this is. I just want to have a pleasant holiday.”
I nod. “That’s fine. I can work with that.”
“Nothing is going to change,” she says again, and for a moment, I believe she is trying to
convince herself of that.
My heart tears a little. There’s a piece of me buried deep inside that wants to say that I still
care deeply about her, but I can’t bring myself to do that. I can’t place her in harm’s way.
I sigh and watch as she gets up. “And now?” I ask.
“I’m going into the water to cool off a bit,” she says, tossing her sarong onto the lounger. “Be back soon.”
“Don’t drown,” I say, with just a hint of sarcasm.
She gives me a strange look before flouncing down the beach toward the water, her ass
swaying just the right amount to catch my attention.
It’s weird not to be busy with work, and I know it’s going to be frustrating if we start fighting again and there’s no work to distract me, so I hope we can keep this peace up for the few days we’re here.
I watch as she dips into the water, her luscious curls blowing with the wind that bounces off
the water. There’s a radiant beauty about her that I will always admire, at least from afar.