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New Roles
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Grace is said in blessings over our food in haste as hunger gnawed at us all. The smells were intoxicating, and although I had been there at its conception, the food looked unrealistic, as though it had been plucked down from gods table. Nicola piles his food onto his plate and kisses his wife’s cheek before digging in. Lilliana stared at him through lovestruck eyes as he devoured all of her hard work, pausing only to compliment her cooking. When I looked at them together it was clear that they shared a bond beyond whatever roles they played in this family. I was not sure the same could be said about Giovanni and Frances. The two spouses sat apart and turned their attentions towards other things to keep from meeting each others eyes. Every so often Frances would dip down and wipe food off the mouth of her baby with a tsk, but otherwise I had never seen a woman so stoic. The contrast between the brothers could not be more apparent. The two options of the man my husband could be
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Flowers are supposed to be light. They are supposed to be beautiful, aromatic, and bright. I am holding lilies and lavender, flowers so large they trump my body and cascade down onto the floor, and I am standing there with my father thinking not on the man at the end of the aisle waiting for me- but how heavy these flowers are in my arms. These flowers remind me of the shackles that have been placed on me by two families I never considered my own. I was a lone person, fighting in my own ocean to stay afloat, and these people, they were all just characters in a play I never wished to be cast in. They were just two families begging to put an end to a violent feud that I was never even part of. I would be in prison for the rest of my life for crimes I never even committed, and I had to skip down the aisle happily, smile plastered on my face, flowers in my arms, and dress fabric draped at my waist.Flowers are supposed to be light. I am supposed to be light. I am s
Crime and Cashmere The Name.
Domenico. My husband’s name is Domenico. The world flips around on my tongue like it is acidic and I cringe. He pulls me too and from around the large ballroom and introduces me passively to guest after guest. He moves so fast I cannot even remember the faces of people I speak to.“Please,” I ask him “Slow down.” My feet ache and my muscles are sore. I have long since dropped the flowers on some random table, hoping silently they would burn and take the building and everyone in it. My fingers grasp onto a glass and I gulp down water quickly, my throat parched from flimsy small talk. The wedding will be in the papers. I can see the headline now- Two Crime Families Put Aside Differences; I knew the papers would sell quickly. Crime sold. I would know. My name had been in the papers since the day I was born thanks to my father. New York would tremble underneath me if I wanted it to. I dripped in cashmere and pearls, ha
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Home is an apartment on Park Avenue. The walls are white with gilded golden lights fixed to them. The curtains are a sky blue and they are blowing inward with a night breeze. I am in love. The furniture is large and tufted, and they screamed of class and comfort. I stifle a delighted giggle. It was not horribly large, but it was cozy. The kitchen was cramped with the stove taking up most of the space, and a small table was tucked away in the corner of the room. Given the business that was required of the two of us, I doubted much use would come to it. Their nights would be filled with business meetings or parties. A luxury not afforded to me until recently. I had no head for the business. My father’s business would go to my husband now. As would his fathers. One day my husband would be the most powerful man in New York and I would be the girl who turned a blind eye to his affairs and raised children he did not care about. He wore his own shackles in this, but his were crested
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I am drowning in my own tears. I have created a lake of salty droplets fallen from my eyes and I drown in it. My bones drag me to the bottom under their weight and nobody comes to save me. I am alone. So deeply alone. My husband stares at me, without concern, without love. He is just a warm body sitting at the same table, watching me drown. He eats a biscuit slowly as he stares, like he is enjoying the entertainment of a lifetime.I do not understand his disdain for me. Four months have passed since we were joined, and each day passes slower than the last. Our nights are filled with luxurious dinners and small talk with everyone but each other and then we return to this apartment and go our separate ways. His brothers appear for business during the week, but I have not seen Lilliana since that night. I find myself yearning for her company. At least she spoke to me.“We are going to a dinner party tonight.” He says suddenly, ripping me from my th
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There is a thousand crystals on the chandelier that hovers above the ballroom floor of the Governor’s house. The light is reflected everywhere and I take a moment to drink it all in. Everywhere is illuminated and so very beautiful. The women stand around laughing and drinking, blatantly ignoring the prohibition regulations. There are no laws for the ones who create them. There is only laws for those who cannot afford the price to be above them. The men stand away, their Cuban cigars lit and sending spirals of smoke into the air. The jazz plays on behind everyone but nobody is dancing. Everything is beautiful because it is art. It is a painting. There is no movement, but there is colors and fabrics, and feeling. It invokes something within me. Makes me feel. I do not know what the emotion is, maybe envy that they all have a role in this meusuem quality production. Or maybe it is anxiousness because I have a role as well- the collector.Domenico squeezes my hand lig
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I drive myself out of my corner and back into the ballroom where the party is in full swing. The band places loudly now and people are dancing, drunk off of spirits and high off cocaine. The floor rattles with the sounds of heels and I am momentarily overwhelmed. Bodies are everywhere, flipping in dance and crawling in lust in corners and I am standing there, looking for the people from the balcony. Everyone looks disheveled now, there is no way to tell one from another.I drift into another room and the music fades. Men stand around smoking cigars and drinking liquor and my eyes are traveling from face to face trying to find my husband in the land of strangers. I do not even see Lilliana. There are no familiar people here and I wonder for a moment if I have been left behind. Surely they would not discard me?“Excuse me,” I tap someone on the shoulder and he turns to me. His eyes are glassy and he reaks of liquor. He supports himself weakly by l
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“I am telling you what she said.”“And I am telling you that it is not good enough.”The yells wake me from my sleep and I sit up, alarm pulsating through me. I swing my legs out from under the blanket and make my way to the living room, intent on yelling at the pair of men, whoever they may be. When I reach the threshold my bravado drops and I stare at Domenico and his father, each staring at the other with anger curled into their body language.“What is going on?” I ask and Domenico runs his hand through his hair. “The whole neighborhood can hear you two yelling.”Maritzio smoked a cigar and stares at me as though I am nothing more than a speck of dust on a mantlepiece. “Go back to bed.” He tells me before he turns his attention back to his son. Domenico looks at me with sympathetic eyes and for a moment I think about doing it. But, there is something in Domenico’s
Crime and Cashmere Test Me
I approach the dilapidated looking building with caution, wishing that my heels did not click so loudly on the street stones. Domenico sits behind the wheel of the car, a cigarette in his hand as he watched me walk. He had briefed me on the way over what to do and who to talk to, a small mission that was no doubt less about being successful at something and more about proving I am willing to do what I am told. After the conversation with his father I am afraid we are on thin ice and at any moment I may fall through. There are two men waiting near the doorway and when I approach they look me over. I am no threat and they know it.“Who are you here for?” One asks, his voice hoarse as though he has been yelling all night. He has a scar that splits his lip and I try not to stare as I answer. I will not be rude to these people. They are the only people keeping my family safe.“I am here for William,” My voice wavers and they stare at me,
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Grace is said in blessings over our food in haste as hunger gnawed at us all. The smells were intoxicating, and although I had been there at its conception, the food looked unrealistic, as though it had been plucked down from gods table. Nicola piles his food onto his plate and kisses his wife’s cheek before digging in. Lilliana stared at him through lovestruck eyes as he devoured all of her hard work, pausing only to compliment her cooking. When I looked at them together it was clear that they shared a bond beyond whatever roles they played in this family. I was not sure the same could be said about Giovanni and Frances. The two spouses sat apart and turned their attentions towards other things to keep from meeting each others eyes. Every so often Frances would dip down and wipe food off the mouth of her baby with a tsk, but otherwise I had never seen a woman so stoic. The contrast between the brothers could not be more apparent. The two options of the man my husband could be
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When I come back into my body my head is pounding and my mouth is dry. I have never felt such intense heaviness in my muscles as I focus on the rhythmic rise and fall of my ribcage. My eyelids struggle to open and I am no longer on the table, instead I am in a heavenly soft bed with the blankets pushed up to my chest. I take a moment to groan and try to gather myself together. I am in a new place and I am not okay. Pain thrums in my hands like their own personal heartbeat and I try to brace myself on my elbows as I push myself up.The room was a pale gray color, the furniture a dark, glossy black. It was stylish, the most modern decorations cluttered the area giving it a stylized personal feel. But I could tell it was not a personal feel. There was no real personalization- no smell of cologne or perfume lingered in the air, the sheets were too stiff to have ever been slept in, the pillows far to plump to have ever been under another persons head. Whoever this room belon
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Glass is everywhere when I open my eyes and Domenico is staring at me, blood pouring from cuts on his forehead. He is searching my eyes for something, I realize and I try to pull myself from the mental fog I am trapped in. My ears ring and my body hurts. When I raise my hand to my face it comes back covered in blood. I am hurt, I realize. I try to gather myself enough to panic, but when I look into the face of my husband I calm. He is motioning for me to breathe, over and over his hands rise and drop and I try and make my lungs follow the pattern until they no longer sting when I take in air. I travel the length of his body and I am relieved when I see no visible gunshot wounds. We are not shot. When I rise up my hands hurt so badly I allow my body to return to its position on the floor and when I look I see glass protruding from my palms. My hearing slowly begins to come back and I hear the cries of someone in pain. It takes me a moment to realize it is sounds I am making.
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I approach the dilapidated looking building with caution, wishing that my heels did not click so loudly on the street stones. Domenico sits behind the wheel of the car, a cigarette in his hand as he watched me walk. He had briefed me on the way over what to do and who to talk to, a small mission that was no doubt less about being successful at something and more about proving I am willing to do what I am told. After the conversation with his father I am afraid we are on thin ice and at any moment I may fall through. There are two men waiting near the doorway and when I approach they look me over. I am no threat and they know it.“Who are you here for?” One asks, his voice hoarse as though he has been yelling all night. He has a scar that splits his lip and I try not to stare as I answer. I will not be rude to these people. They are the only people keeping my family safe.“I am here for William,” My voice wavers and they stare at me,
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“I am telling you what she said.”“And I am telling you that it is not good enough.”The yells wake me from my sleep and I sit up, alarm pulsating through me. I swing my legs out from under the blanket and make my way to the living room, intent on yelling at the pair of men, whoever they may be. When I reach the threshold my bravado drops and I stare at Domenico and his father, each staring at the other with anger curled into their body language.“What is going on?” I ask and Domenico runs his hand through his hair. “The whole neighborhood can hear you two yelling.”Maritzio smoked a cigar and stares at me as though I am nothing more than a speck of dust on a mantlepiece. “Go back to bed.” He tells me before he turns his attention back to his son. Domenico looks at me with sympathetic eyes and for a moment I think about doing it. But, there is something in Domenico’s
Crime and Cashmere The Library
I drive myself out of my corner and back into the ballroom where the party is in full swing. The band places loudly now and people are dancing, drunk off of spirits and high off cocaine. The floor rattles with the sounds of heels and I am momentarily overwhelmed. Bodies are everywhere, flipping in dance and crawling in lust in corners and I am standing there, looking for the people from the balcony. Everyone looks disheveled now, there is no way to tell one from another.I drift into another room and the music fades. Men stand around smoking cigars and drinking liquor and my eyes are traveling from face to face trying to find my husband in the land of strangers. I do not even see Lilliana. There are no familiar people here and I wonder for a moment if I have been left behind. Surely they would not discard me?“Excuse me,” I tap someone on the shoulder and he turns to me. His eyes are glassy and he reaks of liquor. He supports himself weakly by l
Crime and Cashmere Whispers.
There is a thousand crystals on the chandelier that hovers above the ballroom floor of the Governor’s house. The light is reflected everywhere and I take a moment to drink it all in. Everywhere is illuminated and so very beautiful. The women stand around laughing and drinking, blatantly ignoring the prohibition regulations. There are no laws for the ones who create them. There is only laws for those who cannot afford the price to be above them. The men stand away, their Cuban cigars lit and sending spirals of smoke into the air. The jazz plays on behind everyone but nobody is dancing. Everything is beautiful because it is art. It is a painting. There is no movement, but there is colors and fabrics, and feeling. It invokes something within me. Makes me feel. I do not know what the emotion is, maybe envy that they all have a role in this meusuem quality production. Or maybe it is anxiousness because I have a role as well- the collector.Domenico squeezes my hand lig
Crime and Cashmere Earn It.
I am drowning in my own tears. I have created a lake of salty droplets fallen from my eyes and I drown in it. My bones drag me to the bottom under their weight and nobody comes to save me. I am alone. So deeply alone. My husband stares at me, without concern, without love. He is just a warm body sitting at the same table, watching me drown. He eats a biscuit slowly as he stares, like he is enjoying the entertainment of a lifetime.I do not understand his disdain for me. Four months have passed since we were joined, and each day passes slower than the last. Our nights are filled with luxurious dinners and small talk with everyone but each other and then we return to this apartment and go our separate ways. His brothers appear for business during the week, but I have not seen Lilliana since that night. I find myself yearning for her company. At least she spoke to me.“We are going to a dinner party tonight.” He says suddenly, ripping me from my th
Crime and Cashmere Home
Home is an apartment on Park Avenue. The walls are white with gilded golden lights fixed to them. The curtains are a sky blue and they are blowing inward with a night breeze. I am in love. The furniture is large and tufted, and they screamed of class and comfort. I stifle a delighted giggle. It was not horribly large, but it was cozy. The kitchen was cramped with the stove taking up most of the space, and a small table was tucked away in the corner of the room. Given the business that was required of the two of us, I doubted much use would come to it. Their nights would be filled with business meetings or parties. A luxury not afforded to me until recently. I had no head for the business. My father’s business would go to my husband now. As would his fathers. One day my husband would be the most powerful man in New York and I would be the girl who turned a blind eye to his affairs and raised children he did not care about. He wore his own shackles in this, but his were crested
