Death Do Us Part

V. Giada

Gia

Catholic mass on a normal Sunday is notoriously long, but Roman Catholic priests like to really kick it up on a notch on Easter Sunday. We're nearing the two hour mark now, and every man, woman, and child, even the most holy and devout, is ready for the end of this so we can go home.
My mama made me sit next to Domenico. I'd tried to inconspicuously slip around her to stand on her other side when I spotted his giant form moving toward us, but my mother glared me back into my spot. Even in the crowded church pews, his stance is arrogant and relaxed, his knees spread comfortably like the isles aren't both packed and squished.
My skin burns where his leg touches mine, the memory of him touching so much more of me yesterday making me feel so ashamed of myself.
I can't even fathom why. One minute, I was weighing how good my odds would be of successfully drowning a man of his size in the garden fountain, and the next, he had his hands all over me.
When he grabbed me so aggressively and suddenly, I was both scared out of my mind, and wild with anger. The ferocity in his eyes told me to keep my damn mouth shut, but my instincts told me to fight back. Who the hell does he think he is to touch me like that?
Somewhere between my first and second attempts to pull away from him, the tightening of his hands around me stopped feeling restrictive and uncomfortable, and altered something in my brain chemistry. It happened so quickly, it would have knocked me on my ass had he not been holding me against him.
Maybe it was the scent of his cologne, or the pillowy looking softness of his bottom lip that made me succumb to a m moment of pure insanity, but now that I've got my head screwed back on properly, I'm wracked with embarrassment and displeasure with myself. I crumbled like I'm made of styrofoam, and now this asshole can't wipe the smirk off of his face to save his life.
He's pleased with himself, that much is evident, and though he'd promised he couldn't stay long yesterday, he must have had plan cancellations or a change of heart, because he stuck around the house for the entire damn day, talking and sipping alcohol from glass tumblers with my papa like they were old pals
I knew he was doing it just to spite me, just so I'd feel the pressure of his presence, the shame of hiding the secret of what we did in the garden my Nonna brought to life, god rest her soul. She's probably rolling and screaming in her grave.
You're giving this more depth than it deserves. It's not a big deal. It was just a kiss, my inner voice tells me.
My inner voice is a liar, a blatant one. No clothes came off, though even in my haze, I do remember certain body parts that had no business touching grinding together, and the thought makes my cheeks tint a shade I can only hope matches the light dusting of blush on my cheeks.
I hated it, but not because it didn't feel good. It felt exquisite actually. I'd die before I'd admit out loud, how amazing it felt just to have him feel me up, kissing me like he wanted to devour me and commit the taste of my lips to memory.
I think that's what I'm having trouble sitting with the most, that a heated make out with a man who doesn't even respect or value me, got me more hot and bothered than any sex I've ever had. How pathetic, that I've had men write songs for me, worship me and tell me I'm the most beautiful thing they've ever seen, yet I folded like a cheap lawn chair for this guy.
And here I am, letting the whole event play on a loop in my head in the middle of church, on the day our savior rose. It's too bad confessionals aren't being held today, because there's something I need to get off my chest, and I've got no one I trust enough to tell.
The worst part is how he'd deserted me after, releasing me as quickly as he'd grabbed me like he'd suddenly gotten bored. He left me standing there, panting and wondering if the world has just flipped upside down
My chest aches, and my stomach burns with regret, but even with these negative simmering emotions, I can't say I wouldn't do it all over again, fall right back into the same trap if the opportunity presented itself. Which is why I'm working on building back up the wall he chipped away at, bigger and stronger than it was.
If he thought he saw my stubborn side before, he's in for a rude awakening.
The priest drones on and on, as I fidget in my seat, wishing my mama would move over just an inch so I could move away from the heat radiating through Domenico's spotless suit. He notices my constant movement, head turning slowly to fix me with an annoyed gaze.
Sit still, he mouths, before turning his attention back to the front of the church like he's actually listening though I know he's not. I've caught him answering work emails no less than five times, and scolded him with reprimanding looks of my own. I guess this is what married life will be like, the two of us always at odds.
I stiffen my shoulders, trying not to feel like a berated child, sucking the sides of my cheeks in to keep my face from scrunching bitterly. He notices that too, eyes narrowing in on the side of my face as he waits for me to crack and roll my eyes at him or shoot him a dirty look. When I don't, he relaxes in his seat again, further manspreading, much to my annoyance.
Sensing how much I hate him touching me, he takes it a step further. I refuse to look at him, but I can still see his smug smile as he slowly lifts his arm and rests it on the back of the pew, behind my shoulders, the warmth of his forearm searing my skin.
     I know this is a holy day, and I should be present and attentive, but please god, please please end this sermon. I need to get out of here before I pass out, or cause a scene, or both.
Snoring sounds over the hum of the priests voice, and many heads snap in the direction of the intrusion, to the pew directly across from ours where one of Domenico's cousin is snoozing. His head is fully tilted back, arms crossed over his chest and mouth open as a symphony of distracting sounds fills the space around him.
A woman I presume to be his wife flushes with embarrassment, shaking him a few times, and smacking his chest to wake him when the shaking doesn't work. The snores taper off quickly, and he sits up in his seat, rubbing sleep from his eyes as quiet chuckles erupt around the room.
My mother took the liberty of inviting Domenico's whole family to worship with us. Some of them came, but others were apparently too tied to their own traditions and the familiarity of their own congregation to make it. I don't blame them. I didn't expect the blending of our families to be seamless and easy, nor do I really care that much.
Sure, it would be less of a headache if everyone could get along, and put aside whatever differences keep them separated, but it's not anything I'm holding my breath for. Twenty years of hate, war, retaliation, backstabbing, and bloodshed isn't going to just disappear because of a wedding.
Members of both of our families came together under one church roof, but I'm not naive enough to think it was out of genuine desire to spend time together. It's more out of respect, out of acceptance for what must happen now that white flags are being waved on both ends.
It's not just the men either. Castellucci and Zanotti women give each other fake tight lipped smiles one second, and stare daggers at each other the next, as soon as the others back has turned. I'm grateful that everyone at least has the good sense to sit on opposite sides of the church, though a thin aisle separating the pews really wouldn't do anything to stop chaos from erupting if the mood were to shift suddenly.
The sun climbs higher in the sky, breaking through the gloomy April morning weather to cast beautiful streams of light through the colored stained glass windows. After what feels like centuries, we are read the final blessing and dismissed.
In spite of the tangible boredom in the air, everyone chatters about how lovely the sermon was as we move to exit building. My father and uncle Emilio beeline for the door, not bothering to wait for their wives to catch up to them. My mother walks paces ahead of me, her arm linked with Luca's.
I feel Domenico walking behind me, watching me, and it's with great difficulty that I don't stumble over my own too feet.
You're not nervous. He doesn't make you nervous.
Why would I be nervous? It's not like I feel anything for him beyond hatred and disgust... and maybe the smallest tiniest hint of attraction, but that's just because I'm a human being with eyes.
"We need to talk," I say loud enough for him to hear behind me.
He doesn't acknowledge me with an answer, but instead presses his had to the small of my back to push me through the crowd of people leaving. He takes the lead, briskly stepping ahead of me and linking his hand around my wrist to pull me through a hallway to the right of the exit.
I'm aggravated at his habit of touching me without asking, whisking me around like I'm one of his possessions, but I don't make scene for fear of drawing attention to us.
The crowd inside has drastically thinned out, but I'm still horrified a the prospect of someone seeing us slip away to an area of the church we probably shouldn't be in.
"We could just step outside, away from others like normal people. We don't need to creep off to a dark corner." He pulls me along quickly, the hallway a flurry of intricate stained glass, and hallowed archways with statues of saints who's eyes follow us.
"I assumed you'd want some privacy." He doesn't let go of my hand until the hum of people outside is a faraway sound.
"You know what they say about people who assume." I wrap my own hand around the tingling of my wrist where he touched me, gritting my teeth as I realized that I've trapped myself alone with him again.
"I don't believe I do know. Why don't you enlighten me."
My intention is only to tell him that I made a mistake yesterday, and that I'm still not over his dismissal of tradition and basic tact. It's like he's intent on letting everyone within a thousand mile radius know that our engagement is a fixed one.
Simply getting older and growing into my own skin has helped me care less what people think, but I'm not completely immune the stares and the biting, biased opinions of others. I'm only desperate to cover the truth because of how weak it makes me look, laying down and accepting marriage to a man I don't love.
It's stupid, because it's not like girls who grew up all around me aren't living the same lives, but I guess I'd really convinced myself that I could follow a different path. Women of my own bloodline think I'm snobby and privileged for fleeing to college, instead of jumping straight from high school to married life like they did.
"What do you want baby doll? Come to confess your sins?" He smirks down at me, tongue trailing a seductive line over his bottom lip. My body is a traitorous bitch, buzzing with electricity like the first time I had a crush.
"I was going through a lot yesterday, and I wasn't in my right state of mind, especially after you brutalized me." My sharpened gaze bores into his.
"Brutalized?" He raises a quizzical eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling it?" He chuckles darkly, his arms bulging at the upper sleeve when he crosses his them over his broad chest. His clothes must be hand tailored and well made not to burst at the seams.
"You seemed to enjoy it. Maybe we can find some time later on to slip away from your family, back to our special spot so I can brutalize you some more." His eyes glint with lustful intent. "Would you like that Tesoro?"
"First off, the way you sprinkle little Italian words into conversation isn't charming the way you think it is. It's actually pretty off putting and douchey." He weighs my opinion with haughty amusement. "And to answer your question, no, I wouldn't like that. I wouldn't like that at all. If you're asking me what I'd like, I'd like for you to stop touching me without permission. I'd like you to stop trying to get a rise out of me every chance you get, and I'd especially like if we could just stay out of each others way."
     "No can do baby, to any of it." He states his answer firmly and without debate. "Now that I've watched your face go pink and felt your pulse when I touch you, I can't imagine how I'll ever stop." He takes a calculated step toward me.
     "It's in my nature to get a rise out of people, sue me." Another step.
     "And as far as staying out of each others way, I choose the distance between us. You want space from me, you better get on your hands and knees and fucking beg me for it." The low tone of his voice resembles a growl, effectively backing me away until my back hits solid surface. We seem to be in this position a lot, in some form or another.
     "We're in a church," I remind him, ears burning from the profane things tumbling from his lips. I'm not the most devout, but at least I have enough class and respect to watch my language.
     "I don't give a fuck!"
     He traps me, metaphorically, and literally with his  hands pressed on either side of the window behind me. I'm scared the weight of his body will break the glass, sending us both falling into a mess of shattered rainbow shards. I'm more scared that he will try to kiss me again, because I don't know that I'd stop him.
     "So begging is the way to get what I want?" What a stupid question. I have no intention of begging this man for anything, and I'd just as soon wade across a lava lagoon as I would get on my knees for him.
     I would have had a better comeback, but my head is spinning for some reason.
     Maybe I should have eaten the croissants and fruit my mom tried to force feed me this morning.
     "I don't know," he raises his shoulders. "You're welcome to test it out. Just know that there are limits to what I'll allow, and keep in mind that it can't hurt if you're on your knees. I'm a hard man to crack, but you'd be surprised how much easier I could be persuaded with your pretty little eyes looking up at me."
     He could and probably would crush me like a grape in his palm if I tried it, but I consider kneeing him in the balls. It would both create some distance between us, and stop the filth spewing from his mouth that's making my stomach squirm.
       I don't mean for my eyes to flicker down near his belt, hovering only for the second it takes me to realize I'm giving away my potential plan. Of course he doesn't miss it, but by the carnal grin that stretches his face, I can see he mistook the slip up for sexual desire.
     "You see something you want baby doll?" He leans in uncomfortably close so that I can't see his face anymore, but I feel him everywhere, even though he's not touching me. His lips are all but pressed to my ear. "I just gave you step by step instructions on what you can do when you want something. Let's see how well you listen."
     Domenico rears his face back just enough that we are almost nose to nose, and I almost collapse. Not just from the claustrophobia of his closeness, but from the sheer intensity radiating off of him. This feels dangerous, like what I'd imagine it feels like to play with a book of matches while the walls drip gasoline.
     There isn't a hint of humor left, his features hardened and his eyes darkened several shades. He's not just teasing me anymore, he's tempting me, challenging me to see just how weak I am for him.
     "You're disgusting." I tilt my head  up to the ceiling, freeing myself from the burning molten swimming around his pupils. He takes the opportunity as an invitation to invade every last shred of my personal space, pressing his face so close to my neck that I can feel the ghost of his mouth against my jugular vein.
     "Do you always blush all over like this?" I don't dare look down to confirm if what he says is true, but I don't have to. My blood scorches, and I'm sure I'm ten different shades of red and pink. He brushes my hair over my shoulder. "How flushed would you get if I kissed you right here?" A gentle thumb brushes my clavicle, index finger brushes down my chest, dangerously close to the neckline of my dress.
     "How flushed would you get if I stabbed you?" I grit my teeth, feeling the marble eyes of every Saint statue in the hallway judging and condemning us for our sinful behavior. If I had half an ounce of sense left, I'd push him away from me and run. He drops his hand with another laugh, amusement returning.
     "Tough talk for someone who's shivering when I've barely touched you."
     "Touch me again and I'll scream."
     "I'm sure you will." The devious grin he gives me is my punishment for setting up that sexually charged innuendo.
     "Try me if you don't believe me."
     "Either you're really testing me right now, or you just want me to touch you some more. No need for the hidden plays. Just ask me."
     "Screw yourself."
     "I know you like me touching you. Your skin gives you away baby girl. I've never seen a women turn the color of rose petals before. You better be fucking careful with a blush like that. I'll get addicted and draw it out of you every chance I get."
     This man is unbelievable. I don't even have the words to speak, so I don't. I just wait for him to get bored of taunting me, and leave like he did last time.
       "Anything else you want to say, or are we done here?" He asks.
We're done here. Just say we're done here.
     "Where's my ring?" Mentally, I smack myself for volleying the ball back in his court, giving him a reason to keep me trapped here, but something about letting him having the last word doesn't sit right with me.
     "Excuse me?" He tilts his head, lost.
     "The other night, while you were out doing god knows what, and I was entertaining all of our friends and family, I was introduced to all of your relatives as your fiancé, but that doesn't feel quite right does it?" I hold my empty hand in front of his face, lowering all of my fingers except for the one next to my left pinky. "Does anything look missing to you?"
     His smile is earth shattering, though I wish it was ugly so I could add it to the list of things I hate about him.
     "I didn't realize you were so eager to have my ring on your finger."
     "I'm eager for people to shut the fuck up and stop asking me about it, if that's what you mean." His eyes widen in surprise, at the first bad word he's heard from me.
     "We're in church," he repeats my earlier words with a click of his tongue.
     "I don't give a fuck."
     "Don't worry. You're ring is coming honey. Soon everyone will know that you belong to me."
     "I'll never belong to you," I hiss, taking his relaxed stance as an opportunity to push past him. This was stupid. My family is probably ready to go and looking for me.
     This theory is proven when I hear Enzo calling for me.
     "Gigi where the hell are you?" He's close, just at the entrance to the turn in the hallway we made. My heels click faster against the marble floor, speeding toward him before he finds Domenico and I suspiciously alone.
     We meet at the corner of the hallway, Enzo halting on his heel to keep from crashing into me. I nearly topple over myself, but he reaches a hand out to steady me. I straighten my spine quickly, trying to act as natural as possible.
     "Really Enzo, hell in church?"
     He ignores my attempted distraction, glancing over my head at the man standing behind us. An accusatory look flitters between the two of us as my cousin tries to piece together what he thinks is going on.
     "What are you guys doing back here?" His tone is demanding, but if I didn't know any better, I could have sworn I heard a tremor. When I fail to produce an answer, his head snaps to Domenico for one.
     "Jesus," Domenico rolls his eyes. "I've heard you Castellucci men are overprotective, but if I'd known I wouldn't be allowed to have a private conversation with my fiancé, maybe I wouldn't have agreed to marry her."
     "Yeah well you're not married yet, and in light of recent events, I'm sure you can understand why people might question the validity of your engagement all together. You know one of the rumors circulating is that my uncle sold Giada's virginity to you?"
     I glance back at Domenico, feeling all of the color drain from my face. His face hardens, his knuckles cracking as he squeezes them into a fist. It seems, based on his expression, that he was just as unaware of this ugly rumor as I was. I'm disgusted that my image is tied to him in that regard.
     "Who's saying that?" I turn to Enzo, who lowers his eyelids in annoyance.
     "I don't know, but it doesn't matter. You two need to be careful about sneaking off to be alone, unless you don't care if people get the wrong idea."
     "So let them get ideas," Domenico says behind us, deep voice echoing off of the vaulted ceilings. "If you're so concerned about what the rumor mill is churning out, why don't you focus on damage control and mind your fucking business."
     "My cousin is my fucking business." Enzo steps forward, chin raised and chest puffed.
     "Nothing happened," I half lie, pushing him back. "Let's just go." Enzo stares daggers at me for breaking up the pissing contest. My cousin is by no means a small defenseless man, but I don't like his chances if things here get violent, and even in a church, that's not outside of the realm of possibility.
     Enzo points to the hallway from which we all came, jaw grinding so hard I can hear his teeth scrape. "Go, now!" I don't quite like the way men have been speaking to me today, but I don't argue.
     "Watch your tone when you talk to her dickhead," Domenico calls after us.
     I have to physically latch onto Enzo like an octopus to keep him from charging back down the hallway to get vengeance for that insult.
     "Enzo stop it's not worth it. What the the matter with you?" He peels me off of him, spinning me around by my shoulders and nudging me forward.
     "What's the matter with me? What the fuck is wrong with you sneaking off with men you don't know? At fucking Easter mass Giada?" He's whisper yelling, but I sush him regardless, worried that the last groups of people still lingering in the church will hear something, if they didn't already. I can only hope these stone walls conceal noise.
     "You think cause you're halfway engaged you can do what you want? We're home now Gigi. We're not in California anymore. We can't do whatever we want. We live by a separate set of rules here. You know I'm supposed to look out for you, and you're high if you think I'm gonna let you get me in trouble."
     "We were just talking."
     "My ass," he flashes me a look of disbelief.
     I see the car I came in with Enzo, my aunt Serafina, my mother, and Luca. It's one of the last in the parking lot on the east side of the church.
     "Seriously Enzo. Nothing happened."
     "Good, then keep it that way until you're legally his wife."
     "You've been such a dick since we left California. You're probably still in a shitty mood because Ayla dumped you."
     He is leading the way, being that his legs are twice as long as mine, so he spins around on me so fast I stop in my tracks. "She didn't fucking dump me," he points a finger at me. "We were never dating." A little testy for someone who didn't get dumped.
     "Whatever you have to tell yourself to get through the day. And by the way, thanks for the fucking heads up about all of this. You're the best cousin ever." I hope my sarcasm stings, because it should. Enzo doesn't hold a commanding rank in our family yet, but as my appointed babysitter, he's filled in on everything pertaining to me. There's no way he had no idea about the engagement like he claims.
     "I already told you, I didn't know."
     "Yeah, I'm sure that's why you've been avoiding me and ignoring all of my calls and texts since we got  home."
     "Gigi, just get in the fucking car and shut up so I can think of a reason it took me so long to find you."
______
     Major holidays at my grandparents house are a family tradition we don't deviate from often. After my Nonno passed, and my dad took over our family operations, he also inherited the house that belonged to him and my Nonna, so we have to play host often.
     The yard is ten times more packed than it was yesterday for Easter prep. Every family member that lives in a hundred mile radius is here. A few of Domenico's relatives are sprinkled around the yard as well, trying to appear comfortable, though I'm sure walking casually amongst people they were raised to believe are their natural born enemies is anything but comfortable for them.
    They aren't hard to spot, even the ones I haven't been introduced to, because their eyes shift around like they are ready for a threat to emerge. The wives and female relatives sit at tables away from the women of my family, smiling politely at my mother and sister who check on them frequently, but otherwise making no attempt to talk to anyone.
     Even the kids play separately, our kids playing games in the open space in the back of the yard, while the Zanotti kids linger by their mothers sides or stick to the swimming pool.
     Enzo and I sit at the end of the diving board side by side, our bare feet dangling in the water to cool off from the warm sun that's only just began to
Decrease in temperature. We are still cross with one another, but we created our own group away from everyone because neither of us are in the mood for being social.
     "It's weird seeing them all here," he comments, watching a Zanotti with shoulder length curls pass us. "Nonno wouldn't have liked this."
     "Nonno didn't like a lot of things," I shrug. "Who cares."
     "Surprised to hear that coming from you considering you were his little favorite. Guess your new man comes over family loyalty."
     "He's not my man," I snap. "I hate him."
     "Could have fooled me," he rolls his eyes, sipping from the brown glass bottle in his hand.
     "Why are you insinuating that something happened? You didn't even see anything."
     "I saw the way he was looking at you, and I unfortunately saw his dick print too, so it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out you guys weren't discussing wedding cake flavors. I'm not an idiot."
     "You are, but that's beside the point. You don't know what you're talking about. Anything you think happened, you got wrong. We can't stand each other. We've been arguing since we met," I take a shot at telling a partial truth.
     He doesn't need to know the rest, because it didn't mean anything. I got the heat of anger confused for the heat of lust and lost my head.
     "That's what you caught the end of, an argument. Not- anything else..."'
     "Fine, let's just pretend I believe you. You need to be careful with him Gigi."
     "You think I don't know that already, dummy? I'd never let myself get close to him."
     "No, I mean don't fuck with him. If I could get you out of this, you know I would, but I can't. There's nothing anyone can do, so you have to protect yourself now. Just stay out of trouble and don't do anything to piss him off."
     "That's excellent marital advice. Got anything else?" With a violent roll of his eyes, he finishes off his beer.
     "Nope, that's all I got, take it or leave it kid."
     "While we're still on the subject, you may as well come clean seeing as how there's ""nothing a anyone can do"". How long before we came home did you know about this?"
     He stares off into the fading sun, looking like his mind is somewhere faraway. I haven't seen him much since we've been back, but my aunt Serafina has been grilling me every time I've seen her about what's wrong with her son. According to her, he's been out of sorts since his homecoming.
     I'd never rat my cousin out and tell my pious auntie that her only child was moping around because he missed having premarital sex with a certain curly haired beauty from my student housing building. She'd have had a heart attack, just like her dearly departed husband. She wouldn't be able to handle the knowledge of her son having casual sex, especially with a girl who's not Catholic, and not Italian.
     "G, I swear I didn't know until like two days before our flight left. I knew a few weeks before that we were coming back to the east coast for good after graduation, but your dad didn't tell me anything else, and he forbid me from telling you the truth obviously, cause he knew you'd be crushed and freak out."
     I'd like to think I hold my head well on most situations, but I know he's right. I would have freaked out, and did when I got home and learned the truth. Why shouldn't I be upset? I had further college plans. I was going to get an off campus house with my friends, and I was already working on my applications for my bachelors program with my counselor.
     Now it's all been ripped from my grasp and there's nothing I can do about it. I'd have no way to afford my school tuition on my own without my dads help, and he'd never pay if I disobeyed him.
       "I wasn't even supposed to know about it cause I think they knew I'd end up telling you, but I was on the phone with Tino two days before we were set to come back, and he let it slip."
     "Okay but-"
     "Okay but what? I would have told you, you would have flipped and probably took off so no one could find you. It all would have been traced back to me and your parents would have my fucking head on a stick. Your my little cousin and I love you Gigi, so I don't mind looking after you and tagging along with  you across the country so you can follow your dreams, but there are things even I can't save you from."
     The thing I need saving from stands across the yard talking, watching intently as a little girl shows all of the eggs she collected during the hunt. Domenico kneels down to scoop her up, squeezes her cheeks and smiles that devastating smile at her.
     One would expect kids to run and scream at the sight of him, but I guess Zanotti babies are used to the monster. The little girl doesn't know any better.
     "Awww how precious," Enzo comments on the scene acerbically. "Bet it warms your heart to see how good he is with kids. Gives you hope for the future doesn't it?"
     "Don't make me throw up," I flip him off.
      He laughs and climbs off of the diving board, sitting at the pool edge to put his socks and shoes back on.
     "Where are you going?"
     "To get another beer."
     "Sneak me one?"
     "No."
     "Please?" Enzo rolls his eyes, lifting his finger to his lips to signal that I had better keep it a secret and drink inconspicuously.