Amo
History repeats itself time and time again. The only question remaining was if we'd actually learn this time. Same circumstances, different time. The mistakes of yesterday sweeping out to the shallows of the past, long enough to pretend this was a good idea. It was bound to fall apart, ending in a fiery disaster, staining us with the hatred for generations to come. Common sense, it seemed, was forgotten in the expectation of a fairy tale couple. A shiny distraction to mask the stupidity in all of this. Angelica Longentio. Blonde, smart and an aspiring equestrian athlete that somehow we both knew would never happen. I'd met many versions of her throughout my life, the women who spoke softly, were well respected and privately educated. I was expected to compliment their presence and they were expected to smile and act blustered, pretending like this wasn't a game setup by the time of birth. Pawns to be played for the bigger picture. I was very much aware that I was playing into it, agreeing to the absurdity of marrying someone based on their relations rather than the relationship between us. It was part of the job and my job was inseparable from my life. One part of work was to be composed at functions, to stand tall in tight suits and nod to monolog comments. The other part was where all formality flew out the window, the only rules you were living by were the ones sworn in blood. The honor that dictated our existence. Bloodbaths and treachery were common sense in the lens of surviving. In any free time I had, throwing myself off a dirt hill was becoming more and more appealing. The thrill of near death of my own doing was a high I could never replicate. Every victory making me feel undefeatable, every injury bringing me humbly back to earth. Everything was forgotten in that space. The things of tomorrow were inconsequential when I didn't know if I would even make it to tomorrow. I looked back down at the shiny report card they sent of Angelica, glorifying all her attributes to a state of unearthly-ness. Ascending to her name as an angel. I wondered silently if they received a short essay of myself, including the many shining attributes of alcoholic tendencies, almost high school dropout and countless stupid injuries. At the end of the day it was just my title that was the shiny star on the paper, all else didn't matter. The most important part was that she was of this world and knew what was expected of her. I would meet her at the end of the week and if everything didn't blow up I would be married by the end of summer. Now the blasé attitude came crashing down as reality caught up. I was getting married. To a woman in the Outfit.
Twenty four hours ago
Monday nights were reserved for reuniting the family at the Hamptons house, like I didn't see enough of them already. I walked through the front door already hearing the loud arguing voices from the foyer. A little early for the screaming since it couldn't have been past the appetizers, the full on blow up was usually reserved for dessert. My phone alerted me of a new message, the last text of a hundred over the long day. I set my phone on the console table, deciding to ignore it for once. I walked instead towards the dining room that was getting progressively louder the closer I got. Opening the door the scene that greeted me was not far from the usual: Marcella holding a steak knife threatenly in one hand and the other steading herself on the table as she leaned forward. Valerio standing up from the table, pointing at her like he had a gun at hand, Lilliana trying to pacify the situation and Isabella recording the whole thing. "Hello," I said calmly. Everyone looked back at me and that seemed to sober everyone up. "Well look who decided to show up, our favorite bachelor!" Marcella said loudly enough that I knew the half empty bottle of prosecco sitting by her plate was her own doing. She sat back down putting the knife gently back on the napkin and folding her arms, "Now please tell Amo, who's getting this week's rose? The anticipation is killing us! We've all been speculating!" "That's nice of you to turn my life into an entertainment brigade for your own personal boredom but just because some of us are content on making a mockery of this family's name does not mean the rest of us don't have some honor left." "Someones in a mood," she rolled her eyes while pouring more prosecco into her glass. "What happened to you? Swallow some bugs on the way up here?" Matteo quips. "Give him a break, it's hard to be in a good mood when you have so many women throwing themselves at you," Gianna cackled. "No really Amo, how did your date go?" mom asked seriously, cutting off the others. "It was fine." I offered, finding my seat and sitting down. "That's all?" she asked disappointed. "We're expecting details! What did she wear, what did you guys talk about?" Lilliana provided. I couldn't even remember what we talked about. All I could remember from that night was the phone call from Margaret that lasted the night. "What about someone from Las Vegas?" The question was barely audible; the idea was a second lapse in judgment, contemplating something I never dared to enter my mind but now that it was there, seeing how it felt. This seemed like the funniest joke I ever told because everyone started laughing at the table. Mom trying to hide it behind her napkin. That left Dad the only one not laughing, "trust me Amo, you don't want anything the Camorra will offer you, the girl will probably be addicted to drugs and only care about clubbing. You need someone with values, this woman will bring the next Capo to the Famiglia. Take that into consideration, we don't want tarnished blood running through our family. She will also need to be respected by your whole family, remember that." "Not from the Camorra but from Vegas," I now said frustrated that my question was heard. "You can't marry an outsider. Your not that stupid," Dad frowned. "Never underestimate stupidity," Matteo muttered. "If you want to be respected you can't marry an outsider. You'll lose all the respect you've already worked up. The majority still value tradition and that means you value tradition." "It's like herding cats this bunch Amo, trust me," Matteo put in. I gave off a quick prayer that I had the decency state of mind to not buy the apartment next to my family's building. How did they expect me to lead when all they did was shove their own opinions at me twenty four seven? "Are you talking about the ballerina?" Mom asks, lighting up as if she finished the clue. I glared at Valerio. He was loyal to a point of getting out of trouble. He didn't even deny it, smirking at me across the table. "She sounds very beautiful Amo, she just doesn't seem your type." "And how do you know my type?" I asked, getting at the end of my patience with all of this. "Maybe because she was the one who found all your magazines when you were thirteen," Gianna laughs loudly. Jesus. "I think Loretta is a smart choice, Mia talks in glowing terms about her," Lilliana said, finally bringing some seriousness back to the conversation. "I thought her name was Lorena?" Isabella asks. "No, its Loretta," I say seriously. "She's still young but I think as she matures she will become a strong asset to have by your side," mom agrees. "She's well acquainted with everybody, everyone will approve of her." Marcella says, resolutely closing out the conversation, which was fine by me.
I snuck off to the office after dinner. I didn't drink anything tonight, finding the idea repulsive. Others did not share in this idea though. The loud racket outside was shut out as the heavy door clicked closed. Gianna proposed the grand idea of setting up the karaoke machine and Matteo and Maddox started arguing over the various topics they kept on hand if things were getting too stale. My families normal behavior that I was all too used to seemed to insult me today. Father sat behind his desk, acting as he always did when something was on his mind. I was getting impatient with his silence, I gave him a questioning glance. "I didn't find your comment at dinner funny. The Camorra aren't someone we ever want to reconcile with, do I need to remind you?" "You never need to remind me of my hatred for them, that was the last thing I meant of it." He nodded, glad we were on the same page and continued. "There has been progression with the situation and the Outfit. We reviewed all the contracts again today and nothing seems to be a deterrent to the current standings between us." "And what was the conclusion?" I asked, although I already knew and I didn't know how to feel about it. I looked out the bay window that overlooked the ocean. The lights of the dock cast a glimmer onto the turbulent sea that was retreating back, revealing the sand that lay beneath. I remembered as a child running out to see what the sand had to present to me, the tide left in its absence small creatures, shells and treasures that would otherwise have stayed secret to me. "We both know the conclusion, you've looked over the documents as much as me. It's a good match." The fate of the future relied on me to keep it together. To hold a steady face in the turmoil and to not do anything atrociously stupid. Thank god Valerio wasn't in my situation. Nobody questioned my ability to stay collected or in control. When I was in business I held any responsibility that was given to me, I upheld my reputation. I walked the width of the room, going through the words I had just heard. Concreting what I hadn't wanted to accept. It had been a long time coming, nobody expected it to move this quickly though. Valerio was the one if anybody to have an arranged marriage with the Outfit. It was never my name filling those expectations. "Remember when you were younger? That day you came in here with a broken leg?" How could I forget? I not only made a promise to myself that day, I made a promise to my family. Father watched me with slight concern on his features of how I took the news. "I know this year has been challenging for you, with the upcoming wedding... It's part of the job and I've tried to make it as natural of a process as possible but I see you're not happy with the choices and frankly I think you can do better as well. This is a delicate matter but I wouldn't entrust it to anybody except you Amo. This can bring great opportunities for us, for the family." Quietness filled the room for a minute, the only sound was the screeching voices from outside trying to hit a high note. "I think it's a logical choice, set up the meeting. I need to get back to the city. Tell mom I can't stay the night.'' His features relaxed and he looked pleased. He never doubted my diligence, he knew more than anyone I was obligingly dutifully to any obstacle to get to the throne. I walked out shutting the office door. Taking the third door to the right out of the dining room so nobody would see me leave. I grabbed my phone on the table and descended back into the night. The only telling of my leaving was the sound of the bike's engine starting, the small pebble stones rustling under the weight of the bike. I looked behind me to just make out the ocean before I left. It was only at a red light five minutes down the road did I remember the text and opened my phone.
"How funny is it that I miss you? I hardly even know you. Everything feels more real when you know it won't last."
I turned off my phone and continued home.
Greta
Present day
For the first time in New York I woke up with a scream choking my lungs. Sitting straight up in bed I forgot where I was for a second. The sheets stuck to the sweat on my body, my lungs gasping for air. It was a tangled nightmare, one in which there was love and then it turned bad, twisted, destructive. Then I was back to that place that I could never make out. I swore I smelled the burnt afterglow of gunpowder still in the air. I looked around myself, sure I would see the dead body lying right there on the floor. Searching the ceiling for the black birds... nothing. My nightmares had found me again. Maybe that's why I loved escaping into the night, the more I was awake the less time my nightmares had to find me. Despite my door being locked, Simone barged through, turning on the harsh light when entering. I hid my eyes from the light. He scanned the room and then barked at me, "what's wrong?" "It was just a dream," I said, rubbing my eyes. Just a dream...but it really wasn't, it was real at one point and now it wasn't leaving me alone. Sins of the past were catching up with me. "I get night terrors sometimes, it should've been in whatever report you got about me." He looked at me like a naive child, probably imagining I was dreaming of immature terrors. He nodded, checked the room despite me reassuring it was nothing and then left. The door closed at an awkward angle with the lock broken. I sat there looking at it and then fell back down into my pillows, willing myself to stay awake till dawn. I didn't have Nevio or my family to console me but I would survive. I revisited the fantasy that was last night instead. The midnight streets of New York. Drenched in rain. The smell of the wet dirt, the water of the bay, the noise of cars running through the wet concrete roads. Going up, up into the sky. The elevator doors opened to reveal the skyline from above. The lights were off in the apartment but the only light we needed was from the city. His apartment was up in the stars, I swore airplanes would fly at this altitude. He was one of those people I fantasized about that first day in the city, the people who lived up in the clouds like immortal gods above a carnivorous city of steel. What, I wondered, would it feel like to be above the world? Who were the people who lived like that? I was not disappointed by the answers to these questions. I could never have fathomed a character like Amo in my mind. Stunned by the view, I touched the cold glass wanting to get closer. Amo came up from behind me, kissing the exposed skin on my shoulder. My senses were on overload, every touch felt so permanent. Everything was new, the smell of the apartment, the view was so far from home, my body was warm from within but cold to the touch. All of this combining in an intoxicating cocktail, making me lightheaded. I leaned back into him for a sense of stability. This felt like a dream. The foreign physical sensation of need started coursing through me, once abandoned now came in ten folds. Feeling weightless, feeling like we were the only two people in the world. The caresses were so infiltrating, the touches making me lose my senses. I could tell he was getting lost in it as well. His grasp tighter at my hip, his breath deeper in the crevice of my neck. I turned around as I still had whatever clarity I could hold onto, looking into his eyes, searching, because that seemed the only way to tell what he was really thinking these days. But even now his eyes were guarded from me, not letting me in. He wanted this distraction, to let the lust overcome the problems. Only for tonight was the promise, the invitation of oblivion, to close our eyes to the world for an hour more and get lost in this fantasy. I'd be lying if I said that didn't sound wonderful. Yet, I should know better than anyone that just because you closed your eyes to the things you didn't want to see, didn't mean they vanished, instead they perpetrated your everyday life to the point you had to do something about them. The night brought an expanse of so many confusing ties that all became loose strings at the end of the night. Slipping through my fingers like silk ribbons. Nothing stable to hold us together, we were living in the clouds and expecting them to have substance. Stupid game that felt so good but we both knew we could never sustain. Where was the beauty in that? I came closer to him, for once in my life embodying the sexiness of a woman. Not a daughter, not a girl but a woman. A woman who knew what she wanted for once. The feeling was intimidating, the rush of power I somehow held in my hands. The prowess, yet the reaction I got uplifted me from any doubt. I came closer to his face, feeling the slight edge of his afternoon shave. "Lost to oblivion you say? Well you don't know the half of it Amo. You might live in the clouds but if you want to kiss the sky, you better learn how to kneel first." I left only with a gentle kiss of my own, lingering on his cheek, questioning why I was leaving for a second. Then resolutely walking out into the elevator. He was still looking out to the cityscape as the doors slid shut, only his strained fist an indication of his emotions. Walking back I never felt more at home in this city. I had my very own story worthy of these streets. Reality washed over me. Daybreak slowly started seeping through my curtains. My breath was deep, still lost in the fairytale. I had a hard time discerning what was real from last night and what was a dream. Amo not only brought unpredictable all encompassing excitement to my life he also uncovered parts of me I didn't even know existed. Revealing what I hid beneath so securely, the places I was too scared to venture in alone. The hidden places I felt ashamed of came out unapologetically with Amo. He never judged my darkness and it lost its power over me in the dazzling lights of the night. Transforming my fears into silly little closets that once held scary disfigured shadows, now turned into inanimate pieces of furniture.
"Who's the guy?" The changing room was abuzz from Hannah bringing coffee in for everyone during the early hour of our rehearsal. I already had my tea but now I was a bit envious of their energy so early, especially after my late night. I was distantly listening to the ongoing loud conversation in the dressing room while fixing my skirt. Wrapping it around my torso for the third time to tie it. My mind was adrift. Why was nobody answering the question? I looked up realizing everyone was looking at... me? "What?" "The guy who gave you that hickey?" Several girls burst out laughing with the accusation and I turned pink. I turned up to the mirror noticing the blotchy skin on my neck. Why hadn't I noticed that? Hastily I tried to come up with something, "No, um... it's not that." "Come on Greta, we're not your parents but I do want the details!" I was so stupid walking around not even noticing it! Thank goodness I had my puffer jacket on in the car with Mauro. "Greta," a hard voice shrilled through the room, leaving the hairs on my neck standing up. All the girls shut up as Ms.Polina walked through the door, unnoticed by the spectacle I was providing to everyone. "Come to my office before your class." Did she know about Amo too? "Yes, of course." I said in a proper school girl voice. She nodded, looked around the room causing everyone to look busy and then left with her usual stiff posture of a retired dancer. "Is it just me or does the room drop ten degrees when she comes in?" Alissa whispered. I turned back to my skirt, righting it and packing up my things hastily. So many things running through my mind. I had never been called to the office. I was always innocent but that wasn't the case now, I was wildishly lost to the lane of unredemabilty. So many crimes I had committed I could hardly compensate for which one to worry about. I slipped into the bathroom and although I never put on makeup for practice since it just melted off within the first hour, I put ample amount of concealer on any revealing evidence of last night. I walked out and the girls were already onto another conversation. "It's from my curling iron if you must know," I said as I passed them. "Suure!" they yelled after me, not believing me for a second. Hell, I didn't even own a curling iron. My heart raced as I tried to calm myself walking to the office. Everyone in the hallway seemed to be throwing glances in my direction but perhaps that was just my paranoia. I kept feeling my neck as a reaction then cursing myself for rubbing off the makeup. I came to the office door and was surprised how my hand shook as I knocked once. Keep it together Greta. I opened the door and Polina sat on the other side of the desk, I quickly sat down in the chair across from her. She was the one teacher I was perhaps the most intimidated by. People thought having a world famous teacher made them world class athletes but that wasn't the case, it just meant you had higher standards to live up to. Her own success was the bar she held for others to reach, anything else was a disappointment. She would come into classes on occasions just to check on the progress. Everyone in the room stood two inches taller as she walked in, her fierce gaze sweeping the room, searching for any fraction of a misalignment. Never once did I see the woman smile. Her story was perhaps more famous than she was, being of the tragic type. A child prodigy destined for greatness but worked beyond the limit by her infamous coach and father. What resulted was a career cut short by injury, her body shutting down before her passion for the sport died out. Leaving her restless and apparently never satisfied. It was a short but legendary career. I looked around the office, adorned with pictures of galas, student graduations and events. A picture of her in the center of the big wall held my attention. Perhaps not the biggest picture but strategically placed to be the center of attention. I recognized the backdrop of Giselle instantly. Even when she was on stage playing the role of a frolicking village girl, never did she smile, rather known for her steely emotions and gritty work ethic. "You know where it is from?" she asked, catching my stare. "Of course, it's from your opening number in Geneva, 1989?" I didn't want to admit how many times I'd watch that particular performance. She nodded. "That moment right there, that was the feeling of making it. It was the pinnacle of success for me. It was everything it should've been, nothing less than perfect. It felt like my feet were no longer touching the earth. I wasn't in Geneva or anywhere in the world. An ether feeling of elysian." She had a look in her eyes where they were clouded with the reminiscing feeling. "I didn't make it on to the rest of the tour, I'm sure you know, that's all anybody talks about around here. How my backup took over, how my posters around the world were replace with her face. Having to watch all of this from the sidelines." I was surprised how bluntly she spoke of it. "I'm sorry," I tried to help. "No waste crying over the things of yesterday. What people don't know is that although I never performed again after that day, that one performance was worth it all. Because only I knew how I had come to that place. The feeling of overcoming every obstacle that stood in my way. Where one dream is laid to rest another arises and for me that was teaching. In the wake of my mourning of my career I made another promise to myself to help someone else fulfill that same feeling I had on stage that day." I was still trying to dispel whether she was kicking me out or not. "I see thousands of students play the same roles over and over, how many times only god knows. But you Greta, you embody the performance, and that's what the greatest of the greatest do. There is only so much, as a teacher, you can teach to a student. No matter how much I instruct someone I will never teach someone the passion of living in a piece of choreography. The rest is innate, something only the individual can share. The way you perform is as watching a bird flying, it is what it was born to do. It is effortless. Natural. You were born to do this." "Thank you." I was a bit lost for words. Not knowing how to handle this woman's compliments, up to this point I thought she was about to scorn me for my misdoings. "But as a teacher I see you are falling behind where you need to be. You're not taking this seriously." "I am, I try my best everyday!'' I was insulted and taken off guard. "You may take each day in hand but you are not taking your future seriously. All of your classmates have applied for a position in the company and you're the only one who hasn't. For you to truly reach your potential you need to be surrounded by the best. You have a gift to share with the world." I didn't even think the others had applied. "My parents aren't...there's still discussions about where I'm going next year. It's a delicate situation with them and I don't want to ask too much." She frowned at my answer. "Who's destiny are you trying to fulfill? Your parents or yours? Because I know how it is to try to fulfill a parents expectations and trust me it's a never ending road of disappointment. The question you need to start asking is where do you want to go? You need to start thinking about these things. Your life is much bigger than your childhood and you're the only one holding yourself back in this situation. Are you going to stay in mediocracy or move to excellency?" I blanked at her intense stare. "You have a lot of things to think about and only you can make these decisions. Nobody can make them for you. Come back to me when you've made your decision and are serious about your future career. We can move from there, otherwise, good day." She returned back to her papers as if she did just turn everything I knew upside down. Leaving me without words. Nobody had ever given me this kind of responsibility in my life. And I'd be lying if I wasn't itching to call my family to ask their opinion. To ask their permission. But she was right. This was something only I had to decide for myself. Nobody had lived my life so why was I relying on others to make decisions for me? I got up and left the office without another word. Having space away from my family, without me knowing it, was the greatest gift they could've given me. I finally had perspective on what I wanted. And for once their voices were not the all encompassing yes or no that would dictate my every move. Now their opinions were shallow whispers that I easily moved aside, making room for my own desires. This was my life and only I knew the way forward. I smiled to myself and walked into class with certainty.