Love and War

Risotto

Risotto:

The next few days are a blur. Of course, the knocking came. The men entering our home and carrying out 2 suitcases full of clothing. I clutch the back of Alejandro's T-Shirt, digging my nails into his skin.

I don't want to let go. I can't.

He pries himself away, of course, and he kisses me, softly, sweetly, a kiss that says, "I'll see you soon." Or maybe, "Goodbye." The thought makes tears spill from my eyes and run down my cheeks, hot and wet. The door closes and I'm left in darkness. I sink to the floor, cold against my bare legs.

I sob uncontrollably, holding my hands against my mouth to drown out my screams. I can't bear to watch. To see him look back with tears in his eyes. To see him wave goodbye to the home we've built for ourselves. To see him climb into the army-green truck that growls and sputters as it departs from our cobblestone driveway.

I lay down there, resting my head on the doormat, and drift into sleep.

When I wake the sun has gone down, it's dark, quiet, so quiet. No television, no presence of the man I love most in this world, just me, and him. I pull myself off the floor, struggling up the stairs into the bed. I don't bother to change, I'm tired again already. Exhausted. I wrap my arms around my bare stomach, stretched with the weight of the child within.

Our, child. I think.

The tears come again, too fast to stop. They flow from my eyes, and I close them tightly, sobbing into my pillow. I reach out a hand and feel the emptiness of the bed beside me. I cry harder. I've only cried myself to sleep once, the night before our wedding. I was so nervous and filled with anxiety about the next day, all I could do was cry in his arms.

There's no one here to hold me now. The air gets colder as I drift out of consciousness.

The next morning, hunger doesn't come, thirst doesn't either. I feel numb entirely, my brain included. I stumbled down the stairs. On the couch, with my legs stretched out, I click on the television. Voices. Loud, horrible voices. A cartoon I believe, an old favorite from my childhood, I hate it.

Click

The screen goes blank. I stare at the ceiling, mindless, empty. Hours pass, I've no clue how many. There's a knock at my door and I hear keys jingling outside. My heart flutters and I sit up quickly, eyes fixed on the door.

Alejandro?

I think. My eyes feel hot.

The handle turns, the door opens, my chest tightens.

Mom.

"Good evening, Tesoro." My mother says gently, making her way to the couch.

Tesoro

"I asked you not to call me that." I whisper, not looking up. She sits beside me, stroking my hair. My eyes feel dangerously hot, tears threatening to spill out. "Angelina, have you eaten?" She asks, I must look as bad as I feel. I shake my head.

No.

"Angel, you know that's bad for the baby." She pulls me towards her and rubs my shoulder. The tears come, fast, they stream down my face as I bury it in my mother's shawl. She hushes me, rocking back and forth as she did when I was young. I'm grateful that she's here. "Let me make you some risotto, your favorite." She smiles at me, and I nod slowly.

She stands up and walks to the kitchen, I hear a pan and ingredients being taken from the refrigerator. The stove clicking on, and rice being poured. I sit back, turning on the TV again. This time the News channel flashes onto the screen.

"They're drafting soldiers from all over the country."

"Age and family circumstances are not a game piece in the plan anymore."

"Men of ages 18-50 are being drafted daily."

Shut up.

"Bombings are becoming more frequent; US forces are getting more and more efficient."

"An air strike blew parts if Rome to pieces, 521 Allied planes."

Stupid news reporters.

"Soldiers of all ages buried alive under the rubble"

I can't take it. I throw the remote at the screen, it cracks and goes black. My mother rushes into the room.

"Angel, what happened?" She sits beside me, a bowl of risotto in her hands. "Nothing mamma." I hang my head in my hands, the world is too much for me to bear right now. "Tesoro..." She begins, 

"Don't. Call me that, Mamma." I take her hand. "I can't hear it, not from anyone else, not now."

He'll call me that when he comes home.

"Angelina." My mother looks at me, her eyes seem solemn, almost pitying. My eyes widen. "You don't think, Mamma, tell me you aren't being serious..."

"Have faith in him" I whisper. She stares at me, with that same look in her eyes, "Damnit." I curse, dropping her hand and standing up, I can't believe her, anger broils within me. She opens her mouth to speak.

"Thank you for the risotto, please leave me be." I say, already walking away, I climb the stairs without looking back, and slam the door to my bedroom.

Such a baby.

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849 words. Longer chapter this time! Please comment your thoughts <3