Page 5 of A Touch of Fate

Five minutes later, our maid appeared with a big bowl of popcorn and glasses of Coke.

As Giorgia and I watched the movie, shoulder against shoulder, I felt like the old Emma for the first time since waking from the coma.

One day, a few months after the accident, when it became clear that I’d never dance again, Mom threw away all my ballet clothes.

I only knew because she hadn’t properly closed the drawer where I kept my leotards, and when I checked, I found it empty. I opened the other drawers with my ballet clothes, but they too were bare. Everything had disappeared without a word, without an explanation.

But I knew it was Mom. She’d sometimes mentioned how much I had to miss ballet and that I’d certainly be able to do it again soon. She’d probably been more devastated about the end of my ballet career than me. Still, I felt sorrow as I stared at the empty drawer. It symbolized another part of my old life I’d lost, another door that ultimately closed for me.

I’d enjoyed ballet, the grace and discipline, the costumes, the music, but it hadn’t been my dream—until it had been taken from me. I would have loved to decide when I’d stop on my own terms… but I didn’t have that choice. I’d have to come to terms with it as I had to do with many other changes in my life. In the beginning, life had felt like a chain of things I couldn’t do anymore, but slowly, I discovered new things that gave me moments of happiness. Doing things with Giorgia and doing crafts like drawing, pottery, and origami.

What I missed more than dancing was the freedom the ability to walk gave you. I’d never realized how many stairs my daily routine included and how high up many of the things were that Ineeded on a daily basis. The first time I’d entered the kitchen to grab a glass of water after I’d returned home, I had been unable to reach the cupboard and had been left staring at it until our cook came in and helped me.

After that, she put glasses into a low cupboard so I could get them. It wasn’t the last time I couldn’t reach something. My family and I had to adapt to my new abilities. Step by step, our home turned into a place where I could do many things independently, but I knew that if I ever attended social gatherings again, things would be a new challenge.

About two and a half months after my accident, I got the first taste of what life with a disability meant in our antiquated, traditional world, and this event almost let other people’s inability to cope with my disability become the way I also handled it.

I had been engaged to the eldest son of the Cincinatti Underboss since I was only four years old. Federico and I had only met a couple of times, and I had never given our bond more than a fleeting thought. Marriage was still a distant concept because I didn’t care much about boys yet. When Federico’s father came to visit without his son, I immediately had a bad feeling.

Danilo had told me to stay upstairs, but I had been utterly sheltered since my accident, and I finally wanted to get a glimpse of the outside world, even if it was only through brief small talk with Federico’s father. Danilo’s eyes strayed to me as I emergedfrom the elevator when Federico’s father entered. The concern in Danilo’s eyes triggered my own anxiety. How would the man react to my disability? He barely glanced my way when he came in, his eyes passing me by without a single greeting. “I need to talk to you and your father alone, Danilo. Without your sister.”

My grip on the wheels tightened, probably thickening the newly formed calluses on my palms. I made myself smaller under his continued disregard of me.

Danilo’s lips thinned, and the hard look in his eyes indicated how fragile his controlled mask was. “Go ahead. My father is at his desk. You know the way. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Mom strolled out of the living room. Federico’s father gave her a quick nod before he stalked down the corridor toward Dad’s office.

“What’s going on?” Mom asked, pursing her lips. She’d worn a nice dress and put her brown hair in a sleek bun at the top of her head. “I prepared afternoon tea for all of us.”

“You should wait with Emma in the living room. I have a feeling that things won’t be pleasant, and there won’t be an afternoon tea.”

I frowned at Danilo, but he only smiled tightly at me. Mom, however, had paled considerably at his statement.

Mom and I moved into the living room and sat at the coffee table, which our maid had filled with cakes and cookies for our guest and us.

I bit my lower lip, then glanced down at my calloused palm, tracing it with my fingers. I’d never had calluses on my hands, only on my toes from going on pointe. The latter had faded, and new ones had formed. Since my accident, it often felt like my heart would need calluses too to protect itself from what was to come.

“What do you think he wants?”

Mom’s eyes rested on my palms. “We need to make sure your hands don’t look like this. It’s not pretty. Maybe you need to use your electric wheelchair.”

I turned my hands over and cupped my thighs. “It’s too big, and I don’t like the sound it makes.”

Raised voices silenced me. I tried to understand what was being said, but Dad, Danilo, and Federico’s father seemed to all be screaming at the same time.

One of our bodyguards entered with a curt nod and positioned himself beside the door. He had taken over after my old bodyguard had been removed. He’d caused the accident because he was drunk on the job. I didn’t like thinking about him. Sometimes I hated him for what he’d done to me, and sometimes I felt almost guilty because he was dead now and not from the accident. My brother had killed him as punishment.

The shouting increased. Federico’s father appeared in the foyer, but he never came into the living room. Instead, he hurried toward the front door with a bright red face, looking like he couldn’t wait to get away.

“Don’t ever contact me for help again!” Dad roared, then started coughing horribly. The front door fell shut, and for a few heartbeats, nobody said anything. Only Dad’s desperate coughing and wheezing could be heard. Danilo appeared in the doorway, his face red, his hair tousled, and he had a thunderous look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asked fearfully.

“They canceled the engagement!” Dad sputtered as he appeared next to Danilo in the doorway, his face turning increasingly red as well.

Mom rose from the sofa, her hand covering her heart as if the words had broken it. “They can’t!”

“They can,” Danilo said quietly, his eyes on me, not our mother. “These are extraordinary circumstances, so no one will blame them, even if it’s absolutely dishonorable.”

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