roses made of lead | Vito Scaletta

Chapter 15 - Bubble bath

Since my last experience, I've been staying at home. My face was wrecked and my body ached so much that just to go to the bathroom was an expedition of several minutes.

I kept telling myself that nothing had happened. I could have defended myself, I had a shotgun! And these thoughts kept going through my head over and over again. Vito kept convincing me that it wasn't my fault, that it had happened to him several times.

And that's exactly what I was afraid of.

That it would happen to him.

All the time I'd been putting on bandages, slathering on various ointments and stretching my muscles, here he was with me. He was looking at my perpetually bleeding nose, my bruised body and the shaved spot on my head. But that wasn't so visible under my hair.

He took care of me the whole time. Except for one day, he had to go with Joe to sort out a job. My job, too. And I spent the day under the covers, hoping he'd come back here safe and sound. And he did. But I was more scared than I was with Paulie, because this time I knew exactly what it entailed. I was the one who experienced it too.

Maybe I thought my body, not exactly of petite frame, could withstand the violence. That the fat that other women lacked would somehow prevent the fists. But I was wrong. I was just as vulnerable as everyone else.

But thanks to Vito, I survived those injuries just fine. He got up every morning to make me tea. He stroked my hair to help me fall asleep. He rubbed the places I couldn't reach and was there for me all night when I had bad dreams. And I felt like I had found someone worth living my life for.

Right after I almost lost my life.

Every morning he asked how I was. He cooked, he cooked mostly what I liked. Read me books, read me the newspaper. When I could hardly move the first few days, he spoon-fed me soup. I cried into his chest almost every night, cursing myself for fucking it all up.

And he listened and he listened. And he said nice things to me. And when my totally messed-up face started to heal, he wouldn't stop telling me I looked good.

But I couldn't tell him the same thing. Not now.

Sometimes he'd take me for a car ride in the evening, just so I wouldn't forget what the city actually looked like. He'd sing in the car with me and avoid the neighborhood where it all went wrong.

And I could watch him forever. And I think my gaze could be compared to his as he watched me sit broken in the bubble bath.

But he was giving me privacy. He filled the tub first, waited until there were more than enough bubbles, brought me into the bathroom, let me get in, and then sat on the floor and talked to me. And he talked and talked and talked. And I found out new things again.

-

"Is it warm enough?" he made sure when he turned around. I nodded and rested my head on my knees. My eyes were red and burning from crying today.

"Thank you," I whispered, running my hand over my calf. This bath is so soothing.

"I don't know if I've told you this before, but, you know, when I started doing that Clemente thing, right? I stole the gas tickets," he began.

"Yeah... how you had to deliver them that night," I laughed a little. Do I know much about you?

"Well, well, I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid you'd think God knows what of me, but... some asshole ratted me out and I spent six years in jail. And it hasn't even been a year since I've been out," he sighed. So I don't know much about you. How did those two manage to keep this from me?

"Really?" I gasped. It was all I could muster. I was very surprised by this news. But I guess my perception of him hasn't changed.

,,Yeah... and it was awful. During my sentence, my mom died and my sister got married. And I couldn't be at the funeral or the wedding. I really hated it there. Total humiliation from the guards and endless attempts to rape me when I was in the shower."

"Rape you?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Yeah, like rape me. I was the best looking of all the prisoners, unfortunately," he laughed. ,,But I met Leo there. The same one I shot in the head. He got me out of prison four years early, he helped me live a mediocre life, not on a concrete floor. But he also stabbed me in the back. Getting rid of Joe wasn't part of our deal either."

I remained silent, wishing I could hug him, but I wasn't really capable of that at the moment. So we just looked at each other sadly. Another wrinkle on his forehead to his story.

"I'd like to meet your sister," I smiled.

"Yeah, I'd like to see her again too. But after the way I broke that asshole of hers's nose, she doesn't want to see me."

"And why did you..."

"He was beating her. And cheated. And I couldn't take that. A prick like that deserves a shot in the head. But I couldn't do that to Frankie," he shook his head.

"Maybe sometime, you can invite her here for lunch, maybe she'll change her mind," I smiled slightly.

"Here?"

"Where else? We live together, I guess, it seems, and I'd like to meet her too."

"I'll think about it. I don't think now's a good time. Is your water still warm?"

-

And that's how he kept revealing himself to me. And I was finding out what was behind that stern look.

A lot of suffering, a lot of pain. And courage, in a way, fearlessness.

And feelings. But he was very reserved in revealing it to me. Mostly when he had a drop of alcohol in him.

And I was the most honest drunken person.