I Do Renounce Them

She's hysterical... hysterical.

A/N: Content warning: sexual assault; semi-graphic descriptions of sexual assault.

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February 7, 1946

Dear Ms. Corleone,

This letter is to advise you that your admission to the New York University College of Arts & Sciences as a regular student has been approved for the beginning of the Fall 1946 semester on condition that you complete satisfactorily the subjects which you enroll in. You should report to the College for enrollment as directed in the enclosed communication.

Sincerely Yours,

L.D. Young, Registrar

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"Know your own strength. If a boy gives your hair ribbon a yank, don't turn around and bop him on the head with an armful of books. He is only teasing you—a peculiar way boys have of showing they like you. Just remember they are queer specimens or homo sapiens and they must be tolerated. There will always be boys, and boys will always be boys."

-Excerpt; Future Perfect: A Guide to Personality and Popularity for the Junior Miss by Bernice Bryant (1944)

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July 1943

Michael was stuffed. The most American tradition his family indulged in had done his stomach in just as it did every year. He was full of the potluck his family had brought over, to be eaten before they set off fireworks in the open area behind the house. There were ribs, baked beans, cassata, ravioli, sarde e beccafico, funghi, cannoli... Independence Day was one of those days of the year that Michael would eat, and eat, and eat, and eat until he felt as though his stomach were bursting. Aside from the bustling occasion that was always a Corleone family holiday, it was good to be home for the summer. Arguing politics with his sister, being talked down to by Sonny, speaking of his future with his father, and being coddled by his mother-- those were Michael's visits home from college, and he cherished each one of them dearly.

It was now the late evening. After a good while spent sitting in silence while his family chattered around him in the humid July air, the smoky scent of fireworks permeating the patio, Michael had excused himself to flop onto the couch in the vacated parlor and light up a cigarette, letting out a semi-audible moan of discomfort every twenty minutes or so. All of his extended family had slowly been thinning out, and he could hear Sonny say his goodbyes to his mother in the foyer. Finally, the peace and quiet could return.

Just when he was about to finish the last of his cigarette and retire for the evening, he heard footsteps, followed by the sound of someone plopping down in the chair opposite him. Michael sat up, his nausea still having taken a toll on him, relieved to find that his new company was his little sister and not some cousin he hardly knew who wanted to scold him for attending college.

"Hey, Fia. You were awfully quiet at dinner," he observed quietly as his sister made herself comfortable in her seat.

She let out a drained sigh, adjusting her skirt as she crossed her legs the way Mama always scolded her for. "I find that the best way to avoid being incessantly asked when I plan on getting married is to avoid talking to everyone as much as possible."

He let out a snicker at that, taking a thick drag from his cigarette amid a comfortable silence. "You're telling me... five separate people today asked me why on earth I'd want to go to college. You'd think it was a crime to want to go to school."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, nodding solemnly. "I guess I'm finally at the age in every Italian girl's life where everyone decides what my future is. I've got to get down to business, Michael. Searching for a proper Sicilian husband is tricky business."