Page 29 of Brutal Husband

“How old is your husband-to-be? I bet he’s ancient.” Isabel snickers. “Sixty-something. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Lazzaro Rosetti is twenty-nine, and good-looking in a…” Mom considers this. “In a rough and ready kind of way.” Her nose wrinkles slightly.

Rough and ready isn’t to her taste. She prefers her men to have a polished, neat appearance. Perhaps she thinks she can change Lazzaro.

It’s only later as I’m driving home that I realize Mom stole my thunder about trying for a baby with her news about getting married. I wonder if she was pressing me so hard for news just so she could upstage it.

The first good look I get at Lazzaro Rosetti is on his and Mom’s wedding day. I don’t see much that’s rough and ready about him. His black hair is slicked back neatly, and he’s wearing a tailored suit and bow tie. Then I notice his tattooed hands and the uncomfortable way he tugs occasionally on his tight collar.

The only person who looks more bored and irritated at the wedding than Lazzaro is Mia. No one seems to notice her sighs and eye rolls except for me, until I notice Lazzaro glaring at her. Or staring at her. I can’t tell which. I hope he doesn’t give her hell for making it so obvious she disapproves of the marriage. Mia is the one who has to live with our new stepfather.

A few weeks later,I realize that I’ve been so wrapped up in my own misery that I’ve been neglecting my family.

I try spending time with Isabel, but she wants to drink wine, and I can’t while I’m trying to get pregnant or hoping that I am pregnant. Her conversation is all sharp edges, empty gossip, and digging around in my relationship with Nero. Probably for more gossip that she can take to a different wine-drinking session with someone else. Every time I leave Isabel’s apartment, I feel empty and uncomfortable, so I stop going so much.

I ask Mom for advice on how to fall pregnant, but all she does is criticize me and tell me I’m overthinking things. I should be pregnant by now, and I mustn’t be trying hard enough.

I start to spend more time with Mia, and I discover that my sister has a lot more backbone than I thought she did. There’s almost nothing about her that’s like Mom or Isabel. She’s not vain, and she doesn’t gossip about other people. I have the sense that she’s biding her time with her eyes on the future, and as soon as she has the chance, she’ll leave us all behind. I’m quietly envious of my little sister and her fierce, secret spark.

One day I pick her up from school, and we go for ice cream. Mia was grounded recently for fighting at school, but apart from a bruise on her knuckles, there’s not a scratch on her. I’m secretly proud.

“You and Isabel are so lucky you have me to take the heat off you,” Mia grumbles.

I look at my sister over my sunglasses. “You think? How many times has Mom told you you’d be pregnant by now if only you tried harder?”

I marvel at how normal I sound as I banter with my sister. I’ve gotten so good at pretending. At Mom’s house, we sit on the edge of the pool and dangle our legs in the water. Mom can’t resist the chance to criticize the ice cream I’m eating, like that has any effect on me having a baby.

“If I get pregnant before you do, I’ll be having words with your husband,” Mom says. “Nero can’t work all the time and expect to magically father a child.”

If only Nero being a workaholic was our problem. There are tears crowding in the back of my throat, but there’s not one hint of them in my voice as I say, “You probably will be pregnant before me. You’re still in the honeymoon period where it’s sex night and morning.”

Appealing to Mom’s vanity works. It’s so easy to distract her.

“Yes, he’s a handful, my husband. So demanding,” she says with a smile.

Mia looks like she’s going to throw up. The man we’re discussing enters the back garden, grease stains on his hands from working on his car, and he glares at Mom like he knows she was just discussing his sexual appetite. My family is so dysfunctional. No wonder I have no idea how to cope with Nero.

As I watch Mom’s relationship with Lazzaro deteriorate, I wonder how much longer it can last. Everyone in the family knows the marriage is a disaster. I wonder if people notice the same things when Nero and I are together.

Nero won’t attend big family events, but I casually mention to him one morning that I’ve invited Mom, Lazzaro, and Mia around for dinner. I just got my period. My lower belly is aching, and my heart is heavy with disappointment.

Nero puts his espresso cup in the sink and heads for the front door. “Sure. Fine.”

“I’m not pregnant again,” I call after him.

Nero pauses with his hand on the door, but he doesn’t turn around. “Oh. Maybe next time.”

The door slams behind him.

Next time. I want toscream.

When the doorbell rings that night, There’s only Lazzaro and Mia on my front doorstep. Mom has a migraine, and Nero didn’t bother to come home. I suppose he could have forgotten that I invited people to dinner, and we were expecting him, but I doubt it.

The three of us end up spending a surprisingly pleasant evening together. Lazzaro—or Laz, as he prefers to be called—is funny and talkative once he relaxes. I notice something strange. He won’t stop staring at Mia. As he talks, as she talks, as I talk. His eyes have a way of finding their way back to her whenever they leave her face.

As Mia and I stack the dishwasher together, I casually mention the attention Laz is giving her, and my little sister freezes up like a rabbit caught in the headlights. She turns red and whirls around so that she has her back to me.

I stare at her, mystified. I’ve never seen her act this way before. Then I realize what’s going on.

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