Page 25 of Vita Mia

“Ah, it’s fine, I guess.”

“How will you begin?”

“Huh?” he whispered back.

“The questions. You have some right? You know where to begin?”

“I have some questions. I’m just not sure if I should ask. Your brother doesn’t want your mother to be uncomfortable.”

“Oh Gino? Don’t worry, Mummy is tougher than all of us. She can handle your questions. Ask them.” MiaBella glanced to her mother who had already went up the steps of the terrace and through the open French doors. “I want to hear her answers. I have some questions too.”

“You do?”

“We all do,” MiaBella whispered.

Ryder found that odd. Why would her children have questions about a past they were part of?

The matriarch of the family had a room the size of a single-family home upstairs. There was an living space, a television area, and then a bedroom. He set up his lighting and video equipment nearest the picture window. Mirabella excused herself. She went inside and changed into a business suit. She pulled her hair back from her face. It made her appear more professional and composed.

“Where do you want me?” she asked.

“Sit there, mummy. Ryder and I said you’ll be prettiest there.”

“I’m not trying to be pretty, Mia.” Mirabella smiled. She sat in the chair and Ryder looked at her through the lens to make sure he captured her correctly. When everything was set, he relaxed. It had been so long since he used his equipment he feared he wouldn’t remember how. He was wrong. He was born for this, and all of the past energy of being the first to excel in investigative reporting came flooding back.

“So, I will lead with questions but the goal is for you to tell your story. We can take a break at any time. I can edit the stops and pauses. And if I say something you don’t want to discuss I can edit it out or we can stop and rephrase the question.”

Mirabella nodded. “It’s fine. I used to do press all the time when I was a business woman. I know how it works.”

“Ready Mama?” MiaBella asked.

She winked. “I’m ready baby.”

Ryder turned on the camera and had it pointed at him. He sat in a chair and did his intro. “I am meeting for the first time Mirabella Ellison Battaglia. The world-renowned fashion designer who absconded ten years ago. Today she has agreed to meet with me to tell us about her past, the present and her future. This interview is an exclusive being conducted in the rarely seen home of the Battaglias in Bagheria, Sicily. I think you the viewer are going to see and hear the heart and soul of the family. Are you ready?” Ryder smiled. He then turned the camera to Mirabella. He sat in the chair next to MiaBella. “Thank you for agreeing to this interview.”

Mirabella nodded.

“I’d like to start with some of the most interesting things about you that have never really been explained. The first thing I found curious is your birth date and birth certificate. There are two? I’m not sure where you were born and who your parents were. There are books that say your father died in prison. There are others that say you actually are the long-lost daughter of Marsuvio Mancini. Can you tell us a little about that?”

“Va bene,” Mirabella smiled. “I’m Mirabella Ellison. I was born a twin on May 16, 1964 in Philadelphia. My mother was Lisa Ellison, and my father was a Sicilian businessman. His name was Marsuvio Mancini.”

“Why the inconsistencies in your birth record?”

Mirabella looked over to MiaBella who was watching and listening. She then looked to Ryder. He feared she’d refuse the answer or he’d push from the wrong conversation too soon. “It was a different time, and my mother was not married to my father. He lived in Sicily, and he returned to Sicily after our birth. She died a year after. My sister and I were separated. Years later we found each other and our father. He told us the truth before he died.”

“There’s was a documentary done on the story of you and your sister. Have you seen it?”

“I don’t watch television or movies,” Mirabella said.

“In one part of it, it said your mother was a heroin addict and she was murdered. Is that true?”

“It is and it isn’t. My mother was a blues singer, and a victim of that time period. She was a complicated beautiful soul.”

“How do you know? She died when you were young right?”

“She left journals. My sister and I learned of her heart and pain through her music and her writings.”

“The documentary also said your husband killed the man responsible for her death.”

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