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November 29 - December 9, 2020
Machiavellian adjective 1. cunning, scheming, and unscrupulous, especially in politics.
“Do you honestly think I’d have a child from you? I want the Scarpone blood, but not from you.”
If only we all could be so lucky to find our beauty, our peace, our purpose before we left this earth.
a fancy black dress, a gold card with writing on it, and a few gold boxes. Shoes to match the dress sat on the floor.
“Anyone poorer than me might as well be down with whale shit. I have no home. No job. No money. I used everything I had to get here tonight. I have no family either.”
She was the catalyst for death, for a new life, and now for the season I currently found myself in.
The child I had given my life to keep safe.
You should always go into an important meeting with shoes that fit properly. A first impression can be your last.
Arranged marriages are not uncommon in our culture, though usually both sides of the family are involved. That aside, Capo wants to take a bride. After spending some time with you, he chose you. That is why we are here, Mari. Capo wants to marry you.”
I’ll always take care of you if I call you mine.
“There is no before me. There is no after me. You. You’re all me.”
Scars on skin meant living. Blood on knuckles meant living. Dirt on white clothes meant living. Living meant taking chances, even if we got soiled up in the process.
“I saved her because she was innocent. I traded my life so her innocence could live.
“You fell in love with her. You fell in love with Palermo’s kid.”
My grandfather was a world-renowned poet and novelist. He’d won the Nobel Prize in Literature in the 1970s. His poetry was known for being lyrical and full of passion.
Fools will go where even angels dare not to tread.”
I want him to touch love and experience the good in life. Let him experience the indescribable feeling of falling in love, of loving enough to die for the woman worth his sacrifice. Let him experience the indescribable joy of becoming a father. Let him fall in love with his life! Let him live with love in his heart and not vengeance in the deepest part of his soul.’”
Before I got up to leave, Uncle Tito had taken a seat next to me. He took my hand, held it close to his heart, and asked if I would give him the honor of allowing him to walk me down the aisle.
“You came to me in rosso,”
He dragged the same hand across his chest, over his heart, and it left a smear of bright red blood, the color of the silk that had been ripped from my body.
“We have made vows,” he said in Italian. “But none like this one. This is a blood vow between the two of us. Between our flesh.” He pulled out of me, and then came back, making me lose my breath. “You belong to me in all the ways now, Mariposa.”
I see you, my husband. I see you, my capo. I see you, my heart. I see you, my everything.
Fear sucked the life out of everything. Fear of being too cold or too hot. Fear of being attacked on the streets and having no one to protect you. Fear of becoming so hungry that’d you resort to digging in the trash. Fear of dying before truly living.
“I need to keep you safe. You’re my wife. The mother of my son.”
Vittorio Lupo Scarpone had become an urban legend,
Marry for loyalty, not for love. Love kills the soul quicker than a sharp dagger to the heart.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you are, Vittorio?”
You want to hear three ugly words, my husband? Words that are nastier, and more twisted, than all of those words you strung together? I love you, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. And what’s even better, I don’t want to! I don’t want to love you, but I do! I love you. I love you. I love you! You’ve damaged me with this…love!
He had taken a dagger to his throat. For me. I took one to the heart. For him.
“I love you, Capo. I’m so in love with you that it’s hard to breathe sometimes. You…crash into me and I want to be swept away. I don’t care if I drown in you. Per sempre. And I don’t love you because of loyalty either. I love you because I…just…love you.”
“Don’t leave me again, Capo. Life is not worth living without you.”
“I need you for the rest of my life, Mariposa. I need all of you to belong to me only. Ossa delle mie ossa; carne della mia carne; la mia bella donna; mia moglie.” Bone of my bone; flesh of my flesh; my beautiful woman; my wife.
In my world love will only get you killed. I have been a dead man since the night I left you behind.
“Mariposa.” My voice cracked. “You left something important behind, Butterfly. You left me behind to die the worst death. You being away from me is the worst death. It’s more painful than anything I’ve ever known. But words are useless. Hear me, Mariposa.”
My son. Saverio Lupo Macchiavello.
She was soft on the outside, pliable enough to deliver a son into the world, but her soul was a warrior queen. She was a woman who had found unbreakable faith, a strength not known to the strongest man on earth. Her flesh and bone could bend, could break, but her soul was unbendable, unbreakable.
“You died for me. You killed for me. You love me, us, this, beyond what you can understand. That’s why he’s here, why he’s ours, because you loved us enough to sacrifice everything for this moment.”
It was something I want no part of. I’ve made my own life. I’ll rule it the way I see fit. I work for one family beside my own—the Faustis. Other than that….”
I had my investments, my businesses, plenty for me and mine to live comfortably on for the rest of our lives.
