precariaviso - Tumblr blog

[precariaviso]

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙈

Piles of clothes litter the floor, the armchair, some even heaped in small mountains on the plush carpeted floor.

My wardrobe has always felt limited, my closet small, but now, with my walk in emptied and all of my designer clothing in assorted heaps, it feels massive. My possessions, expansive. Too many, too much to fit into the five steamer trunks my brother is allowing me.

I try not to scoff outwardly at the notion of allowance. What I am “𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥” when I am sacrificing so much. When I am taking my entire life and crushing it, compacting it, shrinking it down until everything I am is reduced to five trunks crossing the Atlantic Ocean… and yet I am the one who is bound by these ties of patriarchal allotment.

None of this was even my idea…

It was May 2021. The world was still on edge due to the virus but it was Father’s birthday, so Enzo and I had made the trip to the states from Palermo. Father, being the head of the Association, the Capo de Capi meant his birthday was always a overblown affair.

A rooftop bar in Manhattan. More food than we could possibly eat, drinks flowing, dancing, lots of shop talk in the dark corners and cozy sitting areas surrounding decorative fire pits. Flames flickered in shadows over the faces of the men while they discussed shipments and numbers. Their wives huddled together swapping recipes for American bastardizations of pasta and pizza that would clog their husband’s arteries and send them to an early cheese-covered grave.

I hated to admit it to myself, but as I had stood, leaning over the balcony, staring across the expansive illuminated outline of the New York City skyline, I had to concede to the fact that there was a… charm to this place. There was something about the impressive high rise buildings, the yellow taxi cabs, the never ending hustle and bustle that made the city attractive. It was a place where everyone wanted to be, and yet everyone here had somewhere else to go.

It was then, as I was reluctantly admiring the loud, dirty city that so many seemed drawn to, that I heard a voice from behind me.

“𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵... 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘮𝘱. 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘺.”

I couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of my red painted lips that threatened an amused smile as I turned to see a man standing behind and to the left with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Casual. Relaxed. Somehow he looked both put together and disheveled. Dressed the part of all the men here, but little details gave him a devil-may-care appearance. No tie, the first couple buttons of his dress shirt undone. His sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, and his hair wasn’t slicked back by an unnecessary amount of hair gel. The curly locks looked as if there had been an attempt at taming them, but they had a will of their own.

The man had swiped two glasses of champagne from the tray of a roving waiter and leaned against the balcony beside me and introduced himself as Vinny. Nickname basis immediately. Casual, familiar.

Our conversation had been surprisingly easy despite my multiple attempts to brush him off, he was intelligent and witty. Not at all like the other American men that surrounded us that night. He had pointed out several buildings that we could see from our high vantage point, and when he reached the Museum of Natural History he had asked if I had ever been.

“𝙉𝙤. 𝙄'𝙫𝙚… 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣.”

I had almost admitted to having always wanted to go, but scolded myself for nearly opening up to a stranger.

“𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘛𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵..”

“𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩? 𝙊𝙝, 𝙣𝙤. 𝙄’𝙢 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙…”

“𝘚𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦.”

“𝙄… 𝙄 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧..”

“𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘻𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘴.”

He knew my brother and I was stuck. I stared at him in the low light and my mind was shuffling frantically for an excuse, any excuse. Nothing. Niente.

“𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵. 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 8. 𝘞𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬.”

My silence taken as a confirmation. I had stood and watched him retreat with a small confident smile back into the throng. As if he had just won a bet.

I had had every intention of turning him down later that night after the party was over, but as we sat in the town car on our way back to the hotel, Enzo had broken the silence between.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯.”

I had turned to look at him, surprised. The lights of the city illuminated his face through the tinted windows.

“𝘼𝙗𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩.”

His response was quick without even looking up from his phone on which he was typing an email.

“𝘠𝘦𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘝𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘞𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘞𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳? 𝘠𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.”

And so, my “opportunity” to be involved in the business I was so often left out of, was born.

That was 2 years ago now, and the current state of my life is the culmination of that decision.

My gaze falls from the possessions I’m packing away to the massive diamond on my finger.

Engaged to Vincent Luciano. Moving to America in just a couple weeks. Leaving my home. My family. Everything.

For a man I don’t even love.

My life, turned upside down. I want to scream that nothing else move. No one speak a word lest it shake the already rickety foundation my composure sits upon.

But as if laughing in my face, the universe lands another blow, and I feel my knees weaken when I answer my phone to hear my brother’s voice telling me.

“𝘍𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘞𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.”

And just like that, in the aftermath of the phone call that will change everything, the silence settles in like a dense fog.

I turn my head, casting my gaze out the expansive windows of my bedroom that is only mine for the next 24 hours longer. Dark clouds are rolling into the bay. A premonition.

Father is dead, The Association is headless, and a storm is coming.