Page 52 of Blood and Beauty (Owned by The Don)

She’s wearing a backless, red dress and her chestnut hair is curled to one side, falling over her elegant and tan shoulder. I notice her hand resting on Dante’s chest, her long, red nails gleaming under the canopy lights. My stomach drops at the sight and the room begins to spin. Dante is staring at her with an intense stare, a stare that looks a lot like the one he gives me before he fucks me. It makes me nauseous. He smiles at something she says, a genuine smile and it makes me want to cry because he’s never smiled at me like that before. The sight of these two beautiful people has me entranced, and they look almost perfect next to each other.

My face becomes hot and I set my half empty glass of champagne down on a table by the stage, looking over to Marianne and trying to hide the devastation on my face.

“I’m so sorry, I need to use the restroom. The champagne must have gotten to me.”

She looks at me with concern in her eyes, her hands touching my arms that now feel cold and clammy.

“Are you going to be okay? I can come with you if you’d like.”

I shake my head at her reassuringly, promising to not wrinkle my dress as I go pee. She smiles at me and I walk back into the house, holding back tears as I make my way towards my bedroom here. The room I’ve stayed in would be a better term, as it seems nothing in this house was mine or was ever meant to be mine.

22

Esmeralda

I shutthe door behind me quietly and make my way towards the bed, sitting on it in defeat. I dab my tears back with a tissue and try to pull myself together. No matter what my feelings were for this man, they don’t negate the fact that we are from different worlds, even though I was created by a man who was a part of his. Even though the blood of this world runs through my veins, I have to accept the reality that Dante is a powerful and beautiful man, and I am nothing but a small woman that desires him. I am nothing but a vessel for him to lose himself inside for a few minutes and then forget.

There’s a knock at my door and for the first time in a while, I pray that it’s not Dante. Instead, my mother walks in wearing a green, t-shirt style dress with a tan apron over it. They really made this woman look the part of a maid here and it makes me sick. No matter how much wrong she’s done, she’s my mother and the sight makes me want to cry for her. No way she’s happier here.

“Hi, Emmie. How’s your night?” She approaches me timidly, like I’m a large dog baring its teeth at her. I pat the spot next to me for her to sit down and she smiles before sitting eagerly next to me. She seems different this week, calmer in a way, which is surprising. Has this place already brainwashed her so quickly or is she really trying for sobriety?

“You look beautiful tonight, baby girl.” She touches my hair and I let a tear fall at her sudden kindness. This is what I’ve needed my whole life, moments like this one.

“Thank you, Mom, but I feel like an imposter.”

She scoffs at me, smoothing a wrinkle out of my silk dress. Marianne’s going to kill me if I ruin this thing.

“What’s bothering you? Is school going okay? Dante said you were able to go back and finish this semester. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for jeopardizing that for you.”

I want to cry out more tears at her apology, but I regain control, the mention of his name burning a stupid flame in the pit of my stomach.

“Everything’s fine, Mom. I’m just...I’m exhausted. These last couple of weeks have taken a lot out of me. How can I get ever used to a life with moments like these in it?”

She stares at me, a response forming in her eyes. I notice that they look brighter today, not subdued by dilated pupils. I can see so much of myself in them, and it makes me wish we had moments like these when I was younger.

“You’ll do whatever it takes, Emmie, because it’s what you’ve always done. If I can keep going, you definitely can. I have more faith in you than I do in myself.”

Her admission makes me sad for her, sad that she’s never fully had the opportunity to feel confident in herself.

“I know, I know. I always figure out how to survive. I’ve just...I’ve spent so much of my time trying to navigate this life, that I’ve never truly gotten to live it. Now it feels as though I’ll never be able to live it. I’m just constantly wandering around, trying to make my way through.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers, closing my eyes and trying to rid away my sudden headache. I could really use a good night's sleep, though it feels like sleep is a long way from coming.

“Isn’t the point of life about the journey and not the destination? Or some shit like that? I read it online once. But it’s true, you know? You’ll reach a million destinations in life before you’re making your way to the next one. It just keeps going you know, so maybe that’s all life is. One big, fat journey.”

She’s staring at her black clogs, and I wish we were back in our yellow kitchen and not in this place. I wish I was nine again and her new attempt at sobriety follows through and we make breakfast together before we head to Ricky’s. But we’re not in my yellow kitchen, or back in time. Instead, we’re frozen inside the grip of Dante’s grasp and like it or not, it’s the only reason that there’s a light coming back into my mother’s eyes. No matter how sick and stressful this situation may be, that is the truth. Her well-being is finally being prioritized by her. Her demons are being faced and hopefully put to rest.

I hold her hand in mine and we stay like that for several minutes, just enjoying the quiet and peaceful presence of one another. She gets up and hugs me before leaving to finish cleaning the kitchen. I lay back on the bed and stare at the veiling before a knock sounds on the door again.

“What’d you forget, Mom?”

The door clicks shut and I sit up and am met with a pair of angry, amber eyes.

“I haven’t forgotten anything, but it seems as though you have, Esmeralda. For the thousandth. Fucking. Time.” He enunciates each word, making them sound angrier each time.

I ignore him and get up to walk towards the closet, taking off my earrings and necklace before setting them on the table by the door. I don’t have the energy for this. I don’t have the energy for him anymore. I’ve been wrung dry.

“Marianne said you had to use the restroom, thirty fucking minutes ago. Either you are really sick or you’re just sick of listening to me yet again.”

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