Authors: April Emerson
“I’m more of a pretzel person, but I’ll make an exception. And this is so
not
the scariest movie ever.”
“What’s scarier than
The Shining
?”
“The original
Night of the Living Dead
.”
“Nope. Not scary.”
“You’re crazy. Nothing is scarier than zombies. They want to eat your
brains.
”
He jolts up and popcorn scatters on the floor. “Zombies?
Zombies?
This guy tries to kill his wife and kid. He sees ghosts. His
son
sees ghosts. They’re all trapped on a mountain! Nothing is scarier than this movie, Carina. Nothing.”
I giggle at his zealousness.
He presses play, and the lights go down.
The screen shows an aerial shot flying over water and into the mountains as creepy music plays.
“Scariest. Movie. Ever,” Enzo whispers.
When I grab a handful of popcorn, my elbow brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away—and neither do I.
The next morning I rise early, feeling refreshed. It’s a beautiful day, and I plan to take a drive.
Maybe Enzo will want to join me
.
We had such a great time yesterday, and it had been nice having someone to talk to again.
It’s earlier than I usually rise, but I go downstairs expecting to find Fabrizio in the kitchen, whistling as he prepares breakfast. However, the kitchen is empty. I head out in search of Enzo to ask him to join me on my outing today.
As I walk down the hall toward the guest room, I recall memories of my first few nights here, and I smile thinking of how different things are now.
Just as I raise my fist to knock on Enzo’s door, I notice Bianca’s door is ajar, and before I can call out to her, I hear a man’s voice groan. I tiptoe toward the sound and listen.
Fabrizio
.
The bedsprings creak in rapid succession and I hear him say, “
Dio mio
, Bianca.
Lo ti amo con tutto il cuore
.”
I freeze in the doorway, not even breathing. My suspicions were right. All the longing looks and shared, but cautious, laughter. The rosy cheeks and abruptly ended conversations.
They’re having an affair
.
I peek in and see their shadows on the carpet. Bianca is on top of Fabrizio, and his mouth is on her naked breasts. Her hands are in his hair, her hips swaying and circling above him, as she throws her head back. Her long, beautiful hair cascades behind her as she rides him.
I retreat, stunned, even though I shouldn’t be. I turn to run down the stairs and find that I’m face to face with Enzo.
He holds a finger to his lips, prompting me to be quiet.
I wince, and he extends his hand. When I take it, he pulls me into his room and shuts the door.
“Holy—”
“I know. I don’t think they’re even trying to be quiet. I woke up to it.”
“She’s
married
to Rocco, Enzo.”
“I know that, but Rocco’s a dick.”
I giggle even though there’s nothing funny about this. “He is. I can’t stand him.”
“Me, either.”
“I think Bianca and Fabrizio are in love. What should we do?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean they’re having an affair.”
“Yes, but it’s really none of our business, Carina.”
“Stefan wouldn’t be happy.”
“You’re right about that, and they better hope he never finds out. What were you doing up here anyway?”
“I was looking for you.”
“Oh?”
“I was gonna go for a drive, and I thought you might like to come.”
He grins. “Great idea. Let’s get out of here.”
We quietly race downstairs, and Enzo grabs the keys to Stefan’s favorite car from the rack by the door.
“I don’t know if we should take that one. Stefan loves it. He doesn’t like for others to drive it.”
He turns and looks at me. “It’s just a
car,
Carina. You can’t
love
a car. Cars don’t love you back. It’s just a thing. But we can take another if you like.”
I shake my head. “No. You’re right. It’s just a thing.”
As we drive, I think about how important
things
are to Stefan, including his staff.
Sometimes, he even treats me that way . . .
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To one of my favorite places—the Piazza Grande in Montepulciano.”
“How long will it take us to get there?”
“About an hour in this car. Pick out some music to listen to.”
I browse through the satellite radio and stop when I hear Johnny Cash.
“
She walks these hills in a long black veil. She visits my grave when the night winds wail.
Nobody knows, nobody sees. Nobody knows, but me . . .
”
“You can fight all you want when it comes to horror movies, Carina, but there’s just no disputing the fact that Johnny Cash is the greatest artist of all time.”
I smile. “You’ve got me there, Enzo. I completely agree.”
We enter the old town and find a café in the main square.
I can see why Enzo likes it here. The architecture is gorgeous. We are surrounded by beige stone buildings.
We walk over cobblestones, and I follow Enzo toward a spread of small tables. Their purple tablecloths flutter in the breeze, and tourists intermingle with locals as they sip their espressos.
Once we are seated, Enzo speaks to a waiter in Italian.
I’m amazed how easily the language flows from his tongue. “I didn’t think you could speak Italian.”
“Why? Because I’m a Yankee?” He gives me a wry smile. “Nonna taught us all to speak Italian.”
When he mentions his grandmother, I’m reminded of the situation. “Stefan told me she has been ill. I’m sorry.”
“It’s just that she’s old, to be honest. She has good days and bad, but she’s ninety-one. I don’t know how much time she really has left.” He gets quiet and scans the menu.
“The important thing is to treasure her while she’s here. Make each moment special. When you’re with her, be
with
her. Do you know what I mean?”
He stares at me for a moment and then nods. “I know exactly what you mean. That’s great advice, Carina. Thank you. What are you going to have to eat?”
“I was thinking of the frittata.”
He nods. “Me, too.”
We enjoy a pleasant and decadent breakfast, and once we have sufficiently stuffed ourselves, we drive back to the vineyard.
***
When we return, I feel as though I need a nap, but I am also compelled to avoid Fabrizio and Bianca.
I grab a book and sit out on the master bedroom terrace, reading.
It’s almost dinner time when I hear Stefan and Rocco pull into the driveway.
I crane my neck from my seat on the terrace and see him rush past Bianca.
She descends the steps in a hurry and walks into Rocco’s embrace.
She acts like she’s happy to see him, and I feel bad that she has to live a life that’s so submerged in lies.
The bedroom door opens.
He must have run up.
Stefan tosses his bag on the bed and removes his T-shirt. He doesn’t say hello, but strides toward me and picks me up.
I wrap my arms and legs around him as he kisses me, and then I’m tossed on the bed in the same way his luggage was. I begin to protest his treatment, but he covers my mouth with a kiss as he removes my clothing. When I’m naked, his mouth moves lower, and my eyes roll closed as I feel him between my legs. His lips caress me, and I sink deep into pleasure. I’m dragged out of bliss by a knock at the door.
Stefan’s head snaps up.
“Mr. Savano?” Bianca calls out.
I look at him, and his face is red and scowling.
“Go the fuck away, Bianca! Do
not
disturb me!”
There’s nothing but silence in reply.
When he seems satisfied that she’s gone, he takes his pants off in a heated rush, but he looks as if he’s holding on to some kind of frustration.
“Stefan, what’s wrong? You barely said hello. You just screamed at Bianca. Are you all right? Did something happen?”
Instead of answering, he flips my body over and drags my hips up until I’m kneeling on the mattress.
“Stefan . . .”
He leans over me and alternates kisses and gentle bites down my back before he thrusts inside me, gripping his hands deep into my hair. He pulls me back against him and takes his frustrations out on my body. This isn’t making love. It’s fucking. He’s rough and quick and never says a word. When he finishes, he gets in the shower and leaves me lying in bed feeling used.
We eat dinner in the dining room with Enzo, who seems exuberant and unaffected by my fiancé’s withdrawn behavior. It is only when we have finished the meal that Stefan speaks to me.
“Darling. I have some business matters to go over with Lorenzo. Would you mind leaving us?”
“We can talk later, Uncle. I don’t think—”
“No. We’ll talk now. Do you mind, Carina?”
“No. I don’t mind.” I shake my head and toss my napkin on the table and bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming.
Stefan comes to bed a few hours later and finds me watching television.
“Having trouble sleeping?” he asks.
“I always have trouble sleeping when I’m angry.”
“What are you angry about?”
I throw off the covers and get out of bed. “I’m
angry
about you coming home and fucking me like a whore, and then treating me like a servant at dinner! What is going on what you, Stefan?”
He sighs. “I’m just a little tense. I’m sorry. I have a lot going on with the business right now. It has nothing to do with you, darling.” He walks over and tries to pull me into an embrace, but I stop him.
“You embarrassed me.”
“And I’m apologizing for it. I guarantee it won’t happen again. Now, let’s move on.” Stefan gets in bed and falls asleep with ease.
I toss and turn, still agitated by how he treated me today. I think about Enzo—how interested he is in everything I have to say, and how he really
listens
to me. Stefan always seems to be trying to shut me up.
I open the doors and step out onto the terrace, relishing the sweet night air. When I hear a noise and look over the railing, I see Enzo laying on a deck chair by the pool gazing up at the stars.
***
“I’m sorry you can’t stay longer, Lorenzo. Please keep me updated on Nonna. I’m hoping we will be returning to New York soon. I know Carina has been missing her family as much as I’ve missed mine. We’ll be back in time for crush.”
Enzo hugs his uncle and reaches his hand out toward me.
I’m overcome with a rush of sadness. I’ve only just met him, but Enzo truly feels like an old friend.
“It has been a pleasure to meet you in person, Carina. I hope my uncle is telling the truth this time. I know the rest of the family will be thrilled to meet you.” He flashes a bright grin and disappears down the stairs.
“Bye, Enzo.”
Stefan heads to the cantinas. We’re approaching harvest at the vineyard and there’s much work to be done.
I walk into the kitchen, and find Fabrizio making fresh pasta for tonight’s dinner.
He hangs the linguine on a thread that runs from one corner of the kitchen to the other—an old-fashioned, makeshift clothesline of sorts—so that the pasta can dry.
It’s a beautiful sight.
“
Buongiorno, signora
!” He greets me, covered in flour. “Is a beautiful day today, no? A beautiful day to be alive and make good food. What would you like for breakfast?”
“Oh, just some biscotti and cappuccino. I can fix it.”
“Oh, no. I will get it ready for you right now.” He shoots me his cheerful and kind smile.
I sit out on the veranda, and Fabrizio brings me breakfast. As I eat alone, I see Bianca come out and begin to sweep up some fallen leaves.
“
Buongiorno
, Carina.”
I feel the thickness of her secret on my skin, like a dirty film. It irritates me as though I have an itchy rash. I have to say something about what I saw yesterday. “Bianca? Can I speak to you please?”
“Of course.”
She stands at attention.
I rise, taking her arm the way I had before I became engaged to her boss. “Let’s go for a little walk.”
She nods, and we enter the twisting limbs of the vineyard arm in arm.
I speak in a whisper. “I know about you and Fabrizio.” She stops short and tries to withdraw her arm from mine, but I hold fast.
“What do you think you know,
signora
?” Her tone is confrontational.
“I
heard you
with him. I
know
.”
This time she’s successful in breaking free. We stand facing each other, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what you mean. You must be confused. I am a married woman, do you understand?”