Page 24 of Bitter Poetry
To tell Ettore to go to hell.
But he doesn’t, does he? Instead, I’m feeling even more alone than I did before, listening to my sister rant, verbalizing everything I feel, but cannot say.
“Dante won’t let this happen.”
“Dante has graciously stepped aside,” I say bitterly. “He understands it’s best for the family.”
She sinks her fingers into her hair and tugs.
“Jessica, please stop.”
She does. Her head swings my way, fresh tears pooling in her eyes before she runs over to me and throws her arms around me.
“Make this all go away,” she says, shaking. “Bring Mama back. Make Papa well again. I don’t want to live in this world.”
I crush her to me. She may be taller, but she is so slight it feels like I am holding a cloud. “Don’t say things like that.”
She sobs in earnest, and it breaks me apart.
“You’re going to live with Papa,” I say. “That will be something positive. Think of it as an adventure.”
“I don’t want that adventure,” she says.
“Mama would want us to make the best of this. I’ve already explained to you why Ettore was treating the house like his home. Father told him this would be his wedding gift to us.”
“Is that what you believe?”
“It’s what I have to believe.” Today, I’m still seventeen. Very soon, I’m going to be eighteen. Those distant plans for college are precisely that, distant. Ones that will never come to fruition now. “I will be marrying him whether I want it or not. I have to find the best in this. Please help me to find the best.” My voice breaks. “I can’t do this alone.”
She may be taller, but the face that stares back at me still carries the softer lines of adolescence.
Before her, I feel inexplicably old.
“Dante’s a pig, too,” she says vehemently.
I shake my head in warning, although I should probably be grateful to see the passionate side of her return. Far better than the declaration about her not wanting to go on. “He’s not a pig.”
Her lips twitch. “Fine. He’s a sexy pig.”
I don’t want to think about Dante anymore, nor how attractive I find him despite how he always held himself in reserve. A sense of betrayal lingers, firstly by my father and then from the man I thought I would marry.
Worse is the realization that they have been orchestrating my future behind my back. Treating me like the child that I suppose I still am today.
But not for much longer.
“You’re still going to college, at least,” she says with a note of challenge.
“No.”
“Maybe if you ask him?—”
“Jessica.”
“Fine, I know I’m making this worse. Tell me what I can do to help.”
CHAPTER 10
DANTE
