Unholy Matrimony (Unedited)

13

N.

My father invested heavily into my cello playing, so much so there were permanent indentations in the tips of my fingers, my spine may as well have been replaced with a steel rod and even the motion of cutting my steak triggered muscle memory and I was suddenly cutting my food to a melody only I could hear.

"I can't focus with you hovering." The words came out colder than intended, the breast of my cello rested heavily on my thighs as I set my bow on the stand beside me.
Angelo was essentially, sulking. His rigid form curled into himself agains the wall beside the door. He rolled his eyes at my comment.

"You've played for bigger audiences." He bit back, the edge in his tone making me raise an eyebrow. I pretend to busy myself rosining my bow, my mind was reeling with my own inner turmoil- I wasn't particularly in the mood to babysit Angelo's feelings as well.
"What do you want Angelo?" I sighed.

"How can you be so calm about this? The rest of your life was just stolen from you and your fine." He spat the words like venom, uttering each syllable with such confidence. As if he truly knew what I was feeling. The accusation in his tone made the hairs on my neck stand on edge, the narrowing of his eyes as he regarded me as if I was being selfish made me want to slam my fist into his face.

Since he was a little boy Angelo has followed behind his father, mimicking his mannerisms and from early age, declaring he would be the greatest underboss to ever live. It didn't matter to him he would spend his life living off someone's misfortunes, taking orders from someone whose only goal was to gain more power. He was going to be his father's successor, that was his choice.

That's so easy for him to say, to assume. He had all the choices in the world at his disposal.

"I don't know what you want me to say Angelo I am the daughter of a Don. The occurrences in my life are just that- occurrences- the fact or frequency of something happening." My words were bitter, angry at myself but mostly at Angelo.
We both knew my life was never really mine, I was here under my fathers roof as a pawn, a gain to more power, now the years have brushed by and my father had traded my piece for what? I couldn't begin to know.
"I have to practice. If there must be a guard send another one of your goons." I didn't watch him leave, instead stared at the Angel hairs of my bow. My mentor had left an hour ago, leaving with a few notes of my last performance that sounded more like gurgling underwater.

Dinner was like sitting through my own execution, my father wasn't present mentally. His mind off wandering, doing the very same thing he claimed to hate about me. Rene was too engrossed in her sulking to join Selene in her glaring contest with herself and the side of my face as I refused to acknowledge her.

"Nalani." My chin jerked as my father spoke, finally, his first words since we've sat for dinner. "Tomorrow morning I will be visiting your mother's grave. I would like for you to join me." It felt like my heart had stopped beating for a moment. My mind warped with the hazy memory from the last time I had visited my mothers grave.

"Okay." I nodded, looking away from Rene's sharp look towards my father. "May I be excused?" He wave a dismissive hand and I felt Selene's eyes shoot daggers into my back as I walked out.

I wonder if this is how it felt to be under thousands of miles of the ocean. The weight of an endless abyss crushing into my bones, the mass trying to shatter my frame into mush.
It was always hard to breathe and. Let it felt like I was suffocating completely.

My thought tracked and trampled me, it felt like a rubber band was being tied around my brain. Sighing I locked my bedroom door, a habit I've had since I was nine years old and one i probably wouldn't grow out of.

My room was my solace, my safe space where I divulged my thoughts. I could say, think and do what I wanted behind the confides of my bedroom.
There was a frown etched onto my face as I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my sanctuary would now be dissolved into another vacant room in my fathers house while I would be forced to share quarters with a man I didn't know who was now my fiancé.

I swayed slightly at the image of emerald eyes in my mind, they narrowed and danced across my figure as I stripped. The sound of my tub filling not loud enough to drown out my thoughts.

So much so that my phone buzzing on the floor beside my clothes almost goes unnoticed as I slide under the bubbles, the warm water lapping over my aching back and legs.

"Hello?" I hum, my body falling slack into the tub, the aroma of lavender seeping into my stress and dissipating it like water on cotton candy.

"You asked me if you could be honest with me, why?" His tone held it usual rasp, an octave higher with curiosity. The question catches me off guard, half expecting him to not even remember the conversation.

I swallowed thickly, this man, this arrogant brute seemed to have more interest in me than my only father. Maybe that's why I answered, "because, I want there to be at-least one person in this world I can be honest with. We are getting married, after all." I murmured the last part mainly to myself, I had spent most of my life talking to myself in my head.
I wasn't expecting him to buy a journal and keep track of all my thoughts and feelings but it would be nice to be able to have an honest conversation with the man who was going to be my husband.
Arranged or not.

"Hmmm. And can I be honest with you?" I wish I could see if face, I wondered if he was still wearing that hardened expression while we spoke on the phone.

"O-of course." I stammer, watching the bubbles on the surface pop and sway.

"Good, that's good." I crinkled my eyebrow as he said nothing else, a sort of clicking echoed of his head.

"Don Bianchi, are you alright?" I lowered my tone, eyebrows almost touching my hair line at the rasped grumble of a chuckle that responded to me.

"Worried about your husband?" He teased, the clicking resounding again and I sat up off the back of the tub.

I clicked my tongue, wondering what the sound was but the phone shuffled like he was moving it to his other ear and the sound disappeared completely.
"No." He chuckled again, this time louder and longer. It was carefree and light despite the heaviness of his voice.

"If you say so. Hmmm, I have to go." His tone returned to its level rasped and I nodded, skimming my free hand over the surface level of bubbles.

"Okay."

"Good night, Nani."
The call clicked as the nickname flung me into a reel of memories, my body shivered with nostalgia creeping up my spine. Swallowing felt like I was swallowing a scorpion and I pulled my self out of the tub swaying on my feet.

"8...9...10! Ready or not here I come!" I squealed behind my hands clamped over my mouth, using the small space between the cabinets to peek as my mothers heels clicked in the dining room.

I was hiding in the cabinet under the sink now, mom has found me everywhere else, under the stairs, in her closet- in the bushes by the pool.
"Where oh where could my Nani be?" I giggled in my hands, her heels clicking slowly as I watched her do slow circles in the kitchen from my place in the cabinets.

I shuffled back into the space further as she clicked towards the cabinet. A rush of adrenaline washed over me as she yanked the cabinet door open.
"Found you!" My squealed echoed into our kitchen as she pulled me from my hiding spot, tickling my rinds and the space between my arm pits.
"Huh! You thought you could hide from me? I'll always find you Nani! I'm your mom that's my job."
Her grin shined like the sun and her eyes too, they reminded me of sea shells we'd find on the beach, shiny and beautiful.