Page 59 of Prideful Union
“Did you ever hate us? Luca and I are the product of what Franco did to you.”
Her eyes soften. “Honey, no. I never hated you. Did I struggle sometimes because you and Luca look so much like Franco? Yes. It wasn’t easy. And I’ll admit … I did consider an abortion.”
My eyes widen. My mom is a devout Catholic. I know that couldn’t have been easy for her. “What made you change your mind?”
“I love all my children. I may not have always been fair or equal in how I raised everyone, I’ll admit. But I never stopped loving any of my kids. And I knew you and Luca would be no exception. You two weren’t to blame for what Franco did. I made the choice to keep you two, and I’ve never regretted it. Not once. Not even when it was hard. Not even when Franco died and you two had to mourn him. Most of your siblings knew at the point about what Franco had done to me. But you and Luca loved him like a father. Even though you didn’t know he was your real father, he did raise you. He was that father figure to you.
“And,” she continues, “it was so hard to see you two cry for him when he died. Crying for the man who raped me. Repeatedly. I was angry. I wanted to tell you two to get over him.Move on. But I didn’t. I kept that to myself because it wasn’t right to either of you.”
“Yeah, but … if I’d known the truth, I never would have cried when he died. I would have wished him good luck in hell.”
She smiles at that. “I didn’t want you or Luca to know when you were too young. It’s a large burden to bear, knowing you weren’t made out of love. I wanted to wait until you were older, so you could handle it better. I didn’t want to lie. But I need you to understand why I did.”
“I do, Mom. I completely understand. I just wish I’d known, so I could’ve been there for you, too.”
“That’s not what a daughter should do for her mom,” she says, taking my hand. “Emilia had to be a second mom to your other siblings before you and Luca were born. It was never right I did that. It was never right I put that pressure on her. I learned from that, and I made sure to do better by you and Luca. I was never going to let you handle my burdens. I wanted to freeyoufrom any burdens because that’s my job. And I’ll keep doing it forever.”
My eyes begin to water, and before I can stop them, the tears are falling down my face. “I understand why you kept it to yourself. You never have to keep it a secret again. You don’t need to feel ashamed about it.”
“I know. But the men who work for your brother or your husband—they’re the types who are not empathetic to women. I didn’t want what happened to me to hurt your reputation. I didn’t want it to affect your marriage chances.”
“And it didn’t. Mom, I love you. I’ll need time to process the truth about Franco, but … I’m no longer mad at you for lying. I want you to talk to me. Tell me the truth. Hold nothing back. I’m tired of being lied to.”
She wraps her arm around me, pulling me in close. “Ok. More lies. What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
For the rest of the night, my mom tells me stories of her husband, Riccardo, the man I thought was my father. She tells me stories of when rest of my siblings and Luca and I were born. And she tells me more about Franco. She doesn’t hold anything in.
By the end, I can tell she’s exhausted, but she looks happier, like a huge weight has been lifted.
I feel happier, too. I understand my mom better now. Even though my marriage is a mess, at least I have my mom. I have some people in my life who really do love me.
Luca remainsin his room the entire next day. I try to talk to him, but he just tells me to leave him alone.
Since I’m avoiding Santino, I mostly stay to my room as well, with the occasional visit with my mom.
I’m glad my mom and I patched things up, but I need to talk to Luca. I need to see how he’s handling all of this.
So, I decide to burst into his room. No asking, just doing.
He’s lying on the bed, looking like complete shit. He reeks of alcohol. There are multiple bottles and cans of different things—from wine to beer to whiskey—strewn about the room. He must have raided Santino’s stash of alcohol when no one was looking.
“I take it you’re struggling with what Mom told us,” I say, making my way gingerly over to him.
“Get out. I’m not in the mood to talk.” He’s slurring so bad it’s hard to understand him.
“Luca, we should talk about it. Getting drunk isn’t a healthy way to deal with this.”
“It is to me.” He throws his arm across his face. “Just get out, Lucia. I want to wallow. Ok? I’m allowed to wallow.”
“No. You need to go take a shower and get some food in you. I don’t want you dying of alcohol poisoning.”
He mutters something under his breath, and then he gets up, walking past me. “If you’re not going to get out, then I will.”
“Where are you going?”
“Away from here?”
