Page 6 of Forbidden Pregnancy
“Of course.”
“When our people came to America, we did everything to make our lives easier. Even with you kids, I gave you alltraditionalnames so you wouldn’t have to get called greaseball or guido at school.”
He should have tried giving me a differentnoseto avoid that fate…
“Yes, dad. You’ve told me many times about the sacrifices you’ve made for us. Have I done something that I need to atone for?”
“Not yet,” he says ominously.
Even CC pays attention, glancing up from her phone with the guilty expression of someone live posting her family drama to the internet.
“Get it out, because you’re starting to make me think you’re terminally ill.”
“No black women. Knock some chick up, get the baby out of her, but I do not want you bringing a mixed race child into this world under any circumstances.”
CC drops her fork and goes full liberal on his ass.
“Are you fucking kidding me, dad?”
“I’m not going to apologize,” Pino Corsini says, perfectly absent from remorse. “I need to be straightforward with you. A black child will have a difficult life in this world.”
“Isn’t that because of white people?” CC says as my father continues to ignore her contributions to the conversation. I look over at her, wondering why she insists on constantly starting battles with my father.
“Leandro Taviani has two black grandchildren and the world hasn’t ended.”
“Yet,” he says ominously. “We aredifferent.We have more connections to the old world and I will not have our blood… I will not accept it. I willneveraccept it.”
“This is why I hate you,” CC says. “Racist pig.”
She grabs her food and stomps off to eat it in her bedroom. Dad glares at me menacingly, as if I said a word to either of them about the argument unfolding before me. Obviously, I would much prefer not to get involved.
Chapter Three
Myra
Belladonna’s bartender’s chipper demeanor instantly makes me feel like a huge downer. She’s at the back of the bar mixing something with champagne and lime before she turns to me with an inquisitive look for me to place my order.
“The strongest hard liquor available, ma’am. Thank you.”
“Uh oh. Is everything okay?”
“Do I look that bad?”
“No, but you don’t look like my regular hard liquor drinker. You seem like a rosé type of woman.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Itisa compliment. Also… please leak your skin care routine. What’s your name?”
“Myra.”
Rachel nods. “It meansbelovedin Sanskrit. Pretty name.”
I don’t know how she knows that, but I’m in no place to question her mystical bartender’s knowledge. Rachel looks like she can make a mean drink. With less than a minute of picking liquor and shaking shots, she slides a drink across the bar. “It’s a gin and tonic with a twist. I call it the problem solver.”
“Really?”
“Nope. But trust me, all your problems will go away after one or two of these, depending on how strong your stomach is.”
