Page 1 of Frayed Bonds

Chapter one

Valerie

Bright flashing lights blind my vision as I exit security. A group of large men walk through the centre of the airport in a huddle, as paparazzi follow along all in the hopes of snapping a picture of some or other celebrity.

“Fucking celebrities...” I whisper to myself.

Having a large strawberry shake before a two-hour flight was not my smartest decision considering I’m lactose intolerant. My stomach gurgles almost on cue, mocking my decisions.

As soon as the large mass of people pass, I race through the rest of the airport to the nearest bathroom, completely disregarding my bags. Nearly twenty minutes later, with my stomach settled, I rush towards baggage claim where my baby pink suitcases patiently await me on the conveyor belt.

Sighing, I slump down onto a nearby bench and turn my phone on again. Text messages from my papá and my cousin Karyn pour in, letting me know they won’t be able to fetch me from the airport.

If the last two hours were not an indication of how returning to Tevici would go, this is officially the cherry on top of a horrible morning. Returning to Italy this year was never part of my plans, never mind returning home to Tevici.

Taking the bus wouldn’t usually be my first choice since it takes much longer, however, it drops me off closer to my house than a train would. It’s also significantly cheaper than a taxi, making it a win for my ever-shrinking bank account.

The sweetest old man helps me load my bags onto the bus, and almost instantly, I slip into dramatic music video mode as I put my earphones in.

A smile graces my lips as I realise how refreshing it is to be home after so long. How lovely it is to see the familiar streets, the houses. The views of the glistening blue water along the promenade and the quaint little stores that line the street. It’s all so nostalgic that the memories begin to stream in.

The last time I was back in Tevici was for my mother’s funeral three years ago. She’d been sick for about a year before that. I split my time between my studies in Paris and home almost equally, travelling back any chance I had. I would have liked to have done the same now for my papá’s surgeries, but in light of recent events, my bank account could no longer pay for multiple flights to Tevici.

The bus groans to a stop and I smile as Karyn and my papá come into view. Both are deep in conversation about what must be the latest neighbourhood gossip. Their expressions light up as I step off the bus, and immediately, my papá envelops me in a hug.

“Hello, Fiore Mio, how are you?” He asks as he pulls back to give me a once-over.

“I’m good, and yourself papá?” He simply nods, practically brushing off my question. I smile and turn to hug Karyn.

“Did he have to bribe you to leave the wheelchair at home?” I ask as I pull out of the hug.

“He promised to take his medication on time after both surgeries.”

My brows raise in surprise as I purse my lips.“Hmm, a decent bargain for an old man like yourself,” I pat his back as we begin the stroll back to the house.

“Exercise is good for the joints, Fiore Mio,” he simply says.

My father is long past trying to exercise to keep his joints in working order. Over the last seven years, his hip bones have deteriorated so badly that he now needs a double hip replacement, especially after looking after my mamá by himself.

Monday is the first of two surgeries. In an ideal world, both hips would be done at once; however, considering his age and the severity of the situation, his surgeon decided to split the heavy toll it would take on his body into two visits. It gives him some time to recover before the other hip is replaced. He likes to pretend that it isn't that bad, but after my mamá’s passing, it regressed even faster. I had to ask my cousin who is a live-in nurse to come help out.

“I made lunch, so come eat before you unpack,” Karyn calls as I head upstairs to my childhood bedroom.

The stairs and wooden floors creak as I walk across them, revealing the true age of the house. My bedroom door groans open and the smell of mothballs makes me cringe. My walls are still painted a baby pink shade, my obsession with Barbie and all things pink visibly stemmed from a young age.

Leaving my two large suitcases in the centre of the room, I drag the smaller one containing all my art supplies toward the spare room that my papá cleared out.

It’s a large open room with dark wooden floors and equally dark midnight blue walls. I chose this particular room as its large window lets in the most gorgeous natural light, both during the day and at night. On a clear night, the moonlight spills in so beautifully that I can work without the lights on.

Placing the suitcase down, I rush towards the kitchen again where Karyn and my papá sit eating our family's traditional lasagna. When my mamá was alive we’d have it every Sunday, and it makes my heart swell to see that he maintained the tradition even after her passing.

“Is it still as good as it was?” he asks me as I put a bit of the pasta into my mouth.

The flavours melt onto my tongue, and suddenly, I'm transported back to my childhood – running around in the streets, playing with my friends. My brain goes off on a tangent wondering how they are, and I make a mental note to call my best friend, Natalia to check in and let her know that I'm back.

Almost forgetting to answer my father, I hum out in agreement.

“Thank you again, Fiore Mio,” he says and I sense a grave seriousness in his tone.

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