At my first appointment, the conversation had flowed. She hadn't been phased by anything I'd said – or at least she hadn't shown it. A few more sessions and she'd had a couple of diagnoses for me. From PTSD to depression, she'd tackled my self-harm tendencies and my insomnia. I don't claim to have been suddenly cured, but it feels better to know there's a scientific explanation for all of my episodes, and not a demonic possession as my mother had called it. In fact, Giulia had suggested that the bulk of my trauma comes from my mother. My father's abuse had only added to it. With her constant rejections and religious fanaticism, she'd instilled in me I'm not worthy of anything. It had been then easy for my father to mold me into what he wanted.
The session this time focuses on that night, and the source of my biggest shame. I walk Giulia through everything that happened, and she listens attentively, not betraying any disgust for me — what woman wouldn't feel like that for what I did?
"I see." She pushes her glasses up her nose and makes a few notes. "What do you think would have happened if you didn't do that? Tell me your honest opinion."
"Father would have made good on his promise. He would have given Catalina to his men. Or... because he was unpredictable, he could have killed her too."
"Do you think you could have done anything else then?"
I shake my head, closing my eyes. "No." I breathe out.
"There are two things that I see, Marcello. If you hadn't done it, someone else would have. By doing it yourself, and I'm not excusing your actions, but you had control over the situation. You took care of her in a way that no one else would have. You made sure she got out alive."
"Yes, but..."
"What does she say about this?" Giulia suddenly asks, and I lower my head in shame.
"She says she forgives me, but I can't fathom how she could ever do that."
"Why? You don't trust her? Trust her word?" She leans forward, eyes trained on me, challenging me.
"I do." I whisper.
"But you can't forgive yourself." She nods, turning to her notebook and jotting down something. "You can't change the past, Marcello. No matter how much you wish it didn't happen, it did. But that doesn't mean that the man you are today is still the man you were before. Or that you can't change for the better. The past is the past. Let it go. You can still change the future."
"How can I ever feel deserving of her, knowing what I did?" I ask, my voice breaking.
"You won't. But that will make you try harder every day. Lover her more everyday so she feels that you are deserving of her. The ever-trite adage, actions speak louder than words."
"I can do that." I say confidently. "I'd do it regardless, because she deserves the world."
"Then show that to her. A wise man once said that every saint has a past, and every sinner a future. Make that future yours."
I nod numbly, because I feel like I can do it. Turn my life around. Change a little day by day.
"Thank you." I stand up to leave, the clock showing that our session's ended.
"Make sure you recommend me to your other killer buddies; I give great discounts." She winks at me as I leave and I shake my head, chuckling.
I can't believe that a mafioso's daughter would do this type of work, but I can see the usefulness of it. I still can't help but wonder how Francesco had allowed such a thing, with her being unmarried at her age. It's not at all the traditional way, and it gives me hope for the future—for my daughter and my sisters.
I'm about to head back home when I get a sudden phone call from a terrified Venezia.
"Slow down, Venezia. What happened?"
"It's Sisi... I don't know, she just started bleeding. I called an ambulance. We're at the hospital now."
Shit!
I get into my car and drive straight to the hospital. At the reception desk, I give her name and a nurse intercepts me.
"I'm her brother." I add when she seems skeptical about our connection.
"The doctor just saw her. She's sedated right now."
"What's wrong with her?"
She hesitates and instead forwards me to Sisi's attending physician.
"Mr. Lastra. I'm sorry to inform you that your sister suffered an early miscarriage."
My face falls, and I ask again to make sure I didn't mishear. He continues to reassure me it's nothing worrying. I don't think he realizes just how shocked I am to hear that Assisi was pregnant at all. With whom? She never left the house, never saw anyone...
But then I remember. Rafaelo Guerra. Damn!
"You don't have to worry. There's nothing wrong with your sister. She was about eight weeks pregnant and the placenta failed to deliver nutrients to the fetus. Sometimes this happens, but it shouldn't affect her future chances at having children. You should be supportive of her during this time. She seemed grief-stricken at the news."
"Thank you for letting me know." I say numbly. I meet Venezia right outside Sisi's salon, and she's in tears.
"Did you know she was pregnant?" I ask, thinking that maybe she'd shared that with her sister.
Venezia shakes her head. "No... I heard about it for the first time too."
We wait outside until the nurse in charge lets us know Sisi is awake. I tell Venezia to let me talk to her first, and she reluctantly agrees.
When I enter the salon room, Sisi is sitting on her bed, head hung low, pain written all over her face.
"Sisi?" I ask, taking a step towards her.
She raises her head and I can see that her eyes are wet.
"Marcello?" She seems surprised to see me, but then she shakes her head. "I'm sorry." She whispers.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, Sisi. Will you tell me what happened?" I take a chair and place it next to her bed.
She looks conflicted, but eventually she shakes her head.
"Who was the father, Sisi?" I ask as gently as possible. I just can't imagine who it could have been.
She's still quiet, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"Was it Rafaelo?" I change tactics, since he's the only man she's been in contact with outside family.
She suddenly raises her head, eyes wide, lips trembling.
"It was him." I state, more aggressively than before. "Did he force you?" I immediately question. God help me, if he did, he's dead!
"No!" She cries. "No! It wasn't like that."
"What was it like then? Do you love him?"
Sisi stares at me for a second, her eyes fearful – of what I don't know.
"I do!" She exclaims, a little too loud. "I love him, ok?"
"God! He dishonored you!" I stand up, hostility rolling off every pore in my body. I don't care about my outstanding deal with Benedicto. His son is going to pay for this. He took advantage of a girl barely out of the convent. What does she know about love? Sex?
"Stop, please." She utters the last word with such emotion that I do.
"We're getting married." She continues.
"Married? Says who?"
"We talked about it. He asked me, and I accepted."
"Sisi... it's too early. Please think about it. You don't have to do this just because you slept with him." I don't want her to do something she will regret for the rest of her life just because she went to bed with the boy.