Khadija

Chapter 7

Monasterace, Provincia di Reggio Calabria, Italy, 2015

Beautiful. So, so beautiful. There was no other way to describe the square of life outside the window.

The sun was starting to set, bathing the white houses in the distance with orange light. The last rays of gold from the horizon skipped over the water. The smell of salt was intoxicating. I bet the sand still held onto the day's heat. I bet the palm trees scattered over the land would cast long, cool shadows over my face.

I had to drag my teary eyes from the scene, back to my reality. The women had left just a few minutes before, leaving me alone with my own nagging thoughts. Yadira stumbled out with tears streaming down her round cheeks. Catarina gave my shoulder one last squeeze and turned her back on me. My mother and Khala Hana wished me luck and pretended nothing had transpired, ugly smiles plastered to their faces.

But I still sat at the vanity, searching for something I couldn't name in my reflection.

My skin was darker than that of the other women in my family--a coppery gleam--but I had milky scars over my body from abuse that never settled. My features were sculpted, but very much feminine. My lips were plump, my brows were defined. My eyes were dark, hooded, and exotic, framed by a fringe of black lashes. My hair hung in thick inky waves past my breasts, gleaming navy like an oil slick. My body was soft and willowy, with graceful lines and curves.

Objectively, I thought I was pretty, but only because I was told as much. Enzo's only words to me after taking my virginity were "you're so fucking hot", before he promptly zipped up his trousers and told me to straighten up before returning downstairs to our parents.

Enzo himself was attractive. Brown eyes and dark hair and masculinity. He'd had girls upon girls before he met me, ones who gave him their bodies without question. He had everything a twenty year old in university could ever dream of. You could imagine his rage when I burdened him with the news of my pregnancy, as him and his parents came to the sinking realization that they'd need to marry us before people started talking

For this, Enzo would never love me. He'd never long for me the same way that I did for the beach just outside The Room, or for Luca to so much as call me in the weeks since I'd seen him last.

Call... I twisted in the wooden stool and spotted an outdated landline on the nightstand. I bit my lip and watched it, deliberating.

No. Enzo would be there any minute.

The bastard had already gotten what he wanted already, hadn't he? All the touches lingering under my shirt, the hands creeping up my thigh, the lips trailing down from neck to chest. But then there were moments... Moments where he silenced protests with his lips, pinned down my legs, and breathed threats against my neck. It got better, though... I'd think of Luca while it was happening, and that helped. His stormy grey eyes, his broad smile, his lanky arms around me. But even then, my imaginary distraction would begin to mesh with my reality, and I'd get strange visions of it being Luca on top of me and not my now husband.

I thought about happier times from The Room. I thought about the last time I saw Luca, just before we started arguing.

It had to have been three weeks ago. We sat with our legs dangling off the edge of an abandoned dock at the marina, and talked about stupid things. We pretended we were silly kids once again.

He told me something extraordinary; he had found work. Real, good work. The kind he could support his cousins on, or build a life with. I cheered him, asking what he would be doing. But he had a tense look in his eyes, staring hard at something out on the water. He said it wasn't important, that I didn't need to know just yet. I insisted, and that was my first mistake.

He refused to say, but told me something more dangerous instead. He said that money was so good, he could take care of me with it.

No raging Mother or absent Baba, no Enzo and Concetta.

"Just tell them your mom staged the pregnancy, and it'll be over, Khadija. We could... be together."

Fuck it. I needed my best friend.

I jumped off the vanity bench so quickly my head spun. I scampered over to the nightstand, scooting onto the bed to dial the number to a home phone back in Riace. I knew the number by heart--ever since Luca moved in with his three cousins under the so called guardianship of his uncle, who no one had seen since November. My heart hammered against the wires of the corset as the phone rang, clutched desperately in my grip. Please.

The phone continued to ring. The linen bed sheets underneath my scratched and itched. The corset I had on was suffocating. I wouldn't make it if he didn't answer. I wouldn't. I wasn't that strong, I knew as much.

Bastard. Evil, sick, bas--

"Yeah?" a groggy voice moaned, like I'd woken them up. I knew the voice well. I hissed out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Daniel? Is Luca there?" I asked frantically. Breath. Breath, Khadija.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. "Khadija?" Luca's youngest cousin, at only sixteen, questioned quietly. Daniel was a sweet boy--he had a crush on me just the year before, but Luca quickly put an end to that.

"Yeah, it's me. Is Luca--"

The line went dead.