“This is what your father wanted,” Grandma says sternly. “I’m allowed to be happy for that.” She clears her throat and changes her tune. “Denise is bringing her wedding dress. She thinks it’ll fit. Too bad you won’t have the garter your mother made for you. That man took care of that, I guess.”
“I guess he did.”
I wish I had the garter. I can’t remember what happened to it, with the little cherries and a message I was supposed to take into my marriage.
YOU BELONG
We pack up Massimo’s lunch, and Grandma hands me the bag.
“You can bring this with you to Precious Blood.” She smiles and squeezes my arm. “You’re going to be set free today.”
Her version of freedom will never be mine.
Massimo’s not in his office. He’s in the Dome. Clutching the bag, I decide to personally bring him his lunch to find out what he’s doing there.
The Dome is an echo chamber. Every footstep reports back. I walk in from one of the eight entrances in my plum dress and open black coat, paper bag clutched in both hands. Massimo is in the center with Father Martino and Uncle Caesar—the witness—surrounding a little round table made of marble. The pews are empty.
“Here she is,” Uncle Caesar says, holding out a meaty hand. After kissing both of my cheeks, he notes the color of my dress. “Purple, eh?”
The annulment papers are on the table.
“Plum, I think.” Nonsense talk, under the circumstances. But also, I’m correcting him, and his smile as well as his wink tell me this kind of thing will be tolerated on a temporary basis. I turn to Massimo and hand him his lunch.
“Glad you’re here,” he says.
“Why? I don’t have to be here for this.”
“We can reaffirm the promise too.” Leaning on his cane, Massimo puts the bag on the floor.
“Why kill one bird,” Uncle Caesar chimes in, “when you can get two stoned?”
He chuckles at his joke. I’m not supposed to laugh at off-color jokes, so I don’t. Also, it’s not funny.
“Sarah,” Massimo says, “Uncle Caesar and I were wondering, do you want Lucari to sign?”
So, Uncle Caesar is in the loop on everything. In a way, I’m glad my brother isn’t without allies.
“Do you think he’d sign it?” I scoff.
“For his freedom? He might.”
“I’d sign the hell out of it,” Uncle Caesar adds.
“No,” I say. “You wouldn’t. No one tells either of you what to do. He wouldn’t sign it, then you’d kill him. He’ll see right through it. Nice try.”
“Father Martino.” Massimo reaches into his jacket. I catch a glimpse of the black lump of a gun under his left arm, but he pulls out a pen. “We’re ready.”
The priest rushes over. He confirms my brother and uncle’s identities and their relationship to the bride. Then he turns to me, which is surprising, but I’ve never seen one of these.
“Sarah Colonia. Do you undergo this annulment willingly?”
My pause is just for the record. It doesn’t matter. I don’t even have to be here.
This procedure is for husbands who are in comas. The ones who get stuck with outsiders in prison. The few who are severed.
No once cares what I say, but I have to say something.
Yes is true.
No is true.
Yes or no?
“Sarah Colonia,” the priest repeats, “do you undergo this—”
“Leave her,” Massimo interrupts, taking the pen and signing.
Yes is a lie. I am unwilling. I love Dario and I am his wife forever. This annulment is what’s false.
No is a lie. I chose this. I am responsible.
“Yes,” I say as Massi hands our uncle the pen, not that my consent is anything more than a matter of record. “I undergo this annulment willingly.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic!” comes a voice from my left. Sergio saunters in with a bouquet of pink carnations. “I knew you were into me, babe.” He offers me the flowers, but I don’t take them. He tosses them on a pew. “You look hot in that color.”
“Now for the promise,” Father Martino says, slipping another page out from what Uncle Caesar just witnessed.
The marriage promise. It was signed by my father on one side, Giovanni and Sergio Agosti on the other. My signature was not required. All I had to do that day was nod from behind a blue veil.
“I was already here for this,” I say. “I’m not doing it again.”
“Goody,” Massimo hisses, but I’ve already turned on my heel and walked toward the nearest exit, which leads to a cold, narrow stairway up.
Sergio’s as silent as a cat when he grabs me at the bottom of the stairs.
“You don’t gotta be like this.” He growls in my face without a honeypop or sugarcake to spare. I try to pull away, but he’s got me too tight.
“I’m not here for this ceremonial slavery. Because that’s all I’ll ever be to you. A slave. So I’ll do what you tell me. I’ll get on my back and open my legs, but I’m not going to look at you. I’m not going to touch you unless you order me to. I’m not going to smile about it. I’m not going to be nice. I’m going to burn all our dinners and wash the sheets in gasoline. I’m going to turn up the heat in summer and open up the windows in January. I’m going to make your life a living hell.”
He smirks. Steps close. I move back until I hit the wall. He brushes his thumb across my lower lip.
“The mouth on you, babymuff.” Sergio tsks, then kisses me, holding my head still as I punch and twist. His tongue pushes into my mouth. I try to bite it off, and only succeed in getting him off me.
“Don’t do that again.”
“You don’t get it.” He smiles and continues in a silken voice, blocking me on the right and left by putting his hands on the wall. “You can rule it all. You’re smart, and you got a real nasty streak in you that my queen needs. We could be something, you and I. We could take this entire city. But if you want to play it like that… that’s your call. Don’t matter. I’m going to fuck you as much as I want. I’m going to get the full complement of mouth, ass, and pussy. Then, whoever else I say deserves a taste of you is going to fuck you. You’ll be my reward for a job well done, you know what I mean? They fuck your mouth if they did something good. Fuck your ass if they did something great. Your pussycat, that’s reserved for me, you know?” He leans away from me, and I feel as if I can finally take half a breath. “If you don’t want to be a queen… that’s fine. But you aren’t a slave either. No, no. If you’re not my queen, you’re a business transaction.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Only if you want me to be.” He backs down the hall, into the light. “Your choice, buttercup.”
He turns and saunters back into the Dome to complete his transaction.
My God, I hope Massimo kills him. For my sake.
CHAPTER 21
SARAH
Behind the closed door, I undress. I’m glad I’m not wearing black to see Dario. I won’t be in mourning for this last consummation of our love. It will be a celebration of what he’s taught me and what I’ve unlearned. An acknowledgement of what he’s given and what he’s taken away. He gave me the tools to solve the problem of his captivity and the mortal threat to his life’s work. St. Easy will survive and thrive. There’s nothing to be sad about.