Page 56 of Bitter Poetry
Jessica sends me a final look before she walks forward with Helena and her child.
Leon reaches to lower my veil, leaning in as he settles it into place... “Stay strong. This is fucking him up as much as you, but for now, there is nothing that can be done.”
Him? For now?
There is no time to ask. We’re walking forward, his words rattling around my mind, shaking up a cocktail of emotions and setting hope and hopelessness to war.
DANTE
The first notes of the bridal song are like a punch to the gut and a rush of adrenaline all in one handy shot. I tell myself the best thing I can do is give Ettore nothing more to gloat about. I keep my eyes straight ahead, aware of her approach on my periphery, of Leon formerly offering her hand and stepping back.
And so begins the service. It’s long and every minute feels like an hour. My pain medication wears off after a while and that offers a distraction. I don’t look at her once. Leon’sdon’t do anything stupidadvice plays like a mantra in my mind.
Is this some sort of divine test of character?
Am I passing?
Am I missing something I could have or should have done?
I have no answers, only a rage boiling in my gut and Leon’s words of guidance in which to trust.
CARMELA
Why is Dante standing with Ettore?
His presence is like a magnet to my eyes. Not looking at him represents a challenge of the highest order, but I can’t, not today, not now. If I do, I will give myself away.
I told myself I could get through this if I didn’t have to see him. If I didn’t have to be reminded of what should have been mine. Instead, my mind is full of static, and my thoughts bounce between the memory of Dante pressed against me, making me come for him, and the later memory of Ettore pushing me to my knees.
Why didn’t I tell my father no? Why was I complicit in a marriage that felt so wrong?
“This is fucking him up as much as you, but for now, there is nothing that can be done.”
Oh, Leon, why didn’t you come home sooner? Papa trusts you like the son he never had. Maybe we would never have found ourselves in this mess if you had.
Time rushes by, taking me ever onward and forward, and I want to stop it, to get off the ride, one that delivers me to Ettore’s bed. Only there is no stopping this nor avoiding the consequences of the words I stumble over. I’m enshrouded in my own world while the veil is down, connected yet disconnected from the ceremony taking place. But then it’s lifted, and there is no hiding anymore as Ettore leans in to kiss me.
I’m married.
I’m still praying to wake up.
I don’t.
As Ettore steps back and the congregation cheers, my eyes slam straight into Dante’s.
My breath catches in my throat. God, what has happened to him?
DANTE
It’s over.
Done.
Her veil is lifted.
My fingers curl into fists as he leans in to kiss her. And despite all the prior coaching, when he steps back, I look.
Beautiful. Sad. Anxious, too. Looking at her is like taking a blunt knife to a barely healed wound. A glint of light catches my eyes. There, against her skin, nestled in the hollow of her throat, is a pink heart-shaped diamond pendant.
