Page 50 of Fight Me Little Pearl

I roll my eyes and fall back on the bed. “But he’s exactly like Papa, Mama. He kills, he lies, he cheats, and he’s a champion at being unfaithful.”

Mama grabs my wrists and pulls me up. Her eyes are intense and earnest. “Remember that day when he came to ask for your hand in marriage you walked into Nonno’s library wearing that stupid bat costume?”

“Yes.”

“I saw the way he looked at you,” she says. “Your father has never looked at me like that. Not once. That man will not hurt you. He will never treat you the way your father treated me. He is more-”

“He cheated on me on our honeymoon,” I blurt out. “On our freaking wedding night!” Stinging tears slip past my defenses and roll down my cheeks. I press my lips together and wipe them away with my sleeve. He is not worth my tears.

Mama clasps her hands and bows her head. For a few seconds, she is silent. When she raises her head, her eyes are full of love for me. That makes me cry even harder.

“Tell me what happened,” she says softly.

I tell her about Valentino returning to the hotel room smelling of a woman’s perfume, and how the woman shamelessly shows up a few days later at his house in Italy and informs me that she is in love with him and was with him on our wedding night. Angrily, I tell my mother how disappointed and hurt I was, especially since he swore he’d never slept with another woman since our wedding.

“And he has the guts to stop speaking to me after I confronted him about it,” I growl, ending my recount. “He’s an arrogant prick! He cheated, and now he’s acting like he’s the victim.”

Mama’s sigh comes from a very deep place inside her. “In all this you haven’t told me where you caught them sleeping together.”

“Mama!”

“I’m sorry to tell you, but in this instance, you are in the wrong.”

“What?” I explode. “I’m not the one whoring around.”

“No. But you’re the one who has put two and two together and come up with five. I know you never wanted to be part of the world you were born into, but this is your life now. You need to start accepting it.”

“Mama-”

“As horrible as this brutal world we have been born in is, a man’s word is his bond. Once he gives his word about something, he never backtracks. It is the same with your Nonno and all the other honorable men in the Cosa Nostra. The greatest respect you can give a man is to take him at his word.”

I stare at my mother. “What are you saying, Mama?”

“If your husband told you he didn’t do it and gave you his word, then maybe you should trust him over some random woman who is clearly jealous and whose sole purpose is to tear your marriage apart. Valentino isn’t speaking to you because youdisrespected him by not holding his words in high regard. He gave you his word and you trampled upon it.”

My body stills at my Mama’s words, especially since they feel so right. Ever since that evening outside my bedroom door in Italy, Valentino has ignored me. I hardly see him at all, and when I do, he greets me, then goes right back to behaving as if I’m not there at all.

I never stopped to think that he didn’t do it, but like Mama said, I didn’t catch them together. It dawns on me that I was and am acting on hearsay. Suddenly, I feel so dumb.

“Mama, what if he did it? I don’t want to be that silly woman who lets her man whore around while she pretends it is not happening.”

She smiles. “You’ll never be that silly woman. No man will ever walk all over you, but marriage is about respect too. Other than this perfume incident, has he done anything to hurt you? Disrespect you?”

I shake my head slowly. He hasn’t. Not even while I was busy hurling insult after insult. Not even when I carelessly spent that big chunk of his money in one afternoon. He didn’t even slightly admonish me.

“When you have a man who cares for you and respects you, you must also respect him. And that starts by holding his words in high esteem. If he says he didn’t do it, then he didn’t do it. Perhaps wait until you catch him in the act. Maybe then you’ll have a better case.”

Did I hurt Valentino by disbelieving him? I don’t think he cares enough to be hurt by me. Still, I feel bad for everything that has happened and the hurt I felt every time he walked past me in the hallway without saying a word. A stray tear falls from my eyes.

My mother lovingly wipes it away.

I lean forward and impulsively kiss her cheek. “I love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, my darling daughter.”

She rises to her feet. “I’ll bring your dinner so you can eat and go to bed early. I’m sure you’ll want to return to your husband bright and early tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

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