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She wanted someone to look at her the way that Papa looked at Mama, the way that Luca looked at Antonia. She wanted to be valued, not tolerated, and not even Papa could buy her that.
“You men are always talking about how the world is like it came out of the box this way,” she said irritably. “Like it’s set in stone and you can’t do a thing about it.”
She saw clearly now how a horse could grow to love its blinders. Maybe it was better not to have choices, not to have an open pasture to run in.
She understood now that there was never a choice made that did not cost something.
She wanted to scream at the injustice of it all, at men and their demands, at the world and its rigidity. She wanted to rip away her helplessness.
Everyone always does what’s best for themselves. It is the oldest law of nature. Why should you be any different? This family wades in blood to make its way. Blood is its destiny, your destiny. The only choice is whose will flow and who will be washed away. Swim or be drowned, little Lottie.
