If I were to fall, we were going to fall together.
Exhausted, Sal and I had fallen asleep so fast, I’m not sure if it took minutes or mere seconds. Either way, I woke to the saddest song.
Hearing Scarlett’s desolate tears was like listening to an angel losing her wings. You could hear the sorrow of the loss. Sometimes that happened with things Scarlett had to learn. A window would open and reveal that a part of her life had been epically tragic. Then she had to go through the process of mourning something she didn’t even know she had lived without.
As soon as I opened my eyes, I knew what she had realized.
Scarlett was pacing in front of the flat screen, her eyes locked on what was playing. Two actors, a woman and a man, making love.
A mewling sound was coming from Scarlett. She was in utter pain.
Pulling on Sal’s undershirt, she kept pacing, whispering, “Why? Why? Why?”
Knowing an epic meltdown was coming, Sal and I lowered our chairs and prepared.
Watching Sal slowly approach her, I knew I should have listened to him. I should’ve trusted that Scarlett was strong enough for the truth. We could have tried to manage her confusion. Now, she had been thrust into oblivion and wanted no one near her.
She shrugged off Sal’s touch.
If we thought she was angry before, we were in for an eye-opening experience. Scarlett’s eyes looked manic when she pointed to the TV. “Why do her tears look happy when that man has sex with her body?” Her legs kept walking her back and forth in front of that TV as if a caged animal. I think she was, or at least, she was learning how caged she truly had been.
I stood from the chair, wondering how many sad tears she had shed while her ‘fathers’ violated her. The thought was like standing inside a ring of the Devil’s cold fire.
I couldn’t take it and reached for the remote, but Scarlett seethed, “Don’t. You. Dare.”
Sal grabbed his chest. There was so much empathy in his expression. “I am so sorry.”
Speckles of spit sprayed as the animal paced. “Sorry for what? What do I not know, Sal?”
Softly, he tried to speak, but it was like she could no longer hear. Her mind had cracked wide open and was leaking faster than she could collect the pieces again.
“Why is that man not hitting her?”
Even though she was asking questions, she asked them as though she already knew the truth. And she hated the answers the TV was telling her.
She screamed, “Where is her rope? Tell me!”
Scarlett was far too gone mentally for us to speak any answers now. I had made a huge mistake and now she would pay the price. Sal and I could only watch as all of her rage and hurt rose to the surface of her awareness.
Ignorance is bliss, they say. That was most definitely the case for Scarlett.
Now, she was ignorant no more.
Scarlett grabbed a poker stick by the fireplace and swung at the ghosts I didn’t know how to fight. She roared, “Why is she not tied up?”
Crash went the TV screen.
Crash went Scarlett’s tender naïve ways.
Crash went her destroyed heart.
Out of breath, Scarlett dropped the poker stick and stumbled toward the door of the balcony. Scared Scarlett might throw herself over the edge, Sal and I followed her. She opened the door and took weak steps outside. When the cold evening air hit her, she stopped and took huge gulps. Her shoulders rising and falling showed me just how exhausted she was, too. Her night terrors were taking us all down. And now, those terrors felt like they were alive, threatening us while we were awake.
Of their own accord, my feet carried me to her. I told myself not to hold her, not to care so deeply for her, but my heart demanded I support her through this recovery.
I hadn’t even reached her before she turned and leaned against my chest. Her voice shook with tears and regret. “He was so gentle with her. Why, Angel? Why?”
It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, trying to decide whether or not I knew how to fly. Was I able to hold her, yet someday let her go? Was I able to give her a piece of me, yet have the strength to walk away?
Not knowing the answer, my arms still wrapped around her. At that moment, I double-downed that her needs were more important than mine. I held and swayed us both. We were in a disastrous situation with no way out. She had been dreadfully abused. That would always be in her past, no matter how much I ignored it.
“Is that how it’s supposed to be?”
I stared down into the eyes that looked like galaxies overlapped, having to tell them the truth. “Yes.” They had only known misery.
Scarlett was so brave… “I have never seen or felt that. I want to know what it is like.”
You will never know it from me.
I guess the Angel of the Night was afraid of the sun. I turned away from the beautiful woman and walked away. Passing Sal at the balcony doorway, I said, “Protect her with your life.” Then, I left.
A little whisper had me sitting up on the couch. “Angel?”
He had yet to return. Been gone all early morning. “He’s not here, Dove.”
Bare feet pattered on the expensive flooring I no longer felt carried any value. “Sal?” She entered the living room. As soon as she saw me, she grabbed her chest. “I thought I lost you, too.” She rushed to me, sitting and grabbing my hands. “Is he gone? Like my mother?”
I’m going to kill that asshole. “No. He just had errands to run.”
“Errands?”
I was tired of teaching, so I let her hands go and stood. “Want to go for a walk?”
Peering around as if longing for Angelo, she nibbled on her bottom lip. “Do I have to wear shoes?”
I exhaled frustration because Angelo was willing to give her everything she wanted, except himself. “Someday, yes, but not today.”
“Okay.” She held her belly. “May I have a banana first?”
It was disheartening to realize ‘teaching’ wasn’t going to end for a long time with Scarlett. “Repeat after me. ‘I am Scarlett Giordano’.”
She stood, reaching for my hands again. “Sal, what is wrong?”
I don’t know. I didn’t. I was just so frustrated I felt I was about to explode. The house was starting to feel like a prison. I couldn’t understand why Scarlett wasn’t as eager to escape and get out. “Scarlett, say it.”
She looked to the floor. “I am Scarlett Giordano.”
“And I can do anything I want to, whenever I want.”
Her adorable little toes played with each other, but she didn’t repeat the words.
Guilt instantly plagued me. “Okay, don’t worry about that last part, but try to remember your name. It stands for something.”
Quietly, she said, “Not to me.”
How could I be angry at her, for such a statement showed immaturity? It showed how I was truly struggling with all that was happening. I was cooped up in a house—that was now on my last nerve—for a Giordano who I had vowed to die for, but who didn’t even care that she carried the last name.
Yes, I knew they—that family—could destroy her, but if Angelo wasn’t going to care, I didn’t want all the worry falling onto me. I wanted to run from Scarlett—this hopeless situation.