I have sadness in me. I have anger in me. I have heartbreak in me.
~Ellen DeGeneres~
Two months ago
Raphael
*Unedited*
"Cara, we are going to be late."
"I'm sorry, I'll be out in a minute,"
Sophie said. She was seated on the newly installed dressing table just for her, combing her hair and alternately touching the tips of her lips, trying to fix the lipstick.
Her face was beautiful. She wore a dark, dark red lipstick; her striking blue eyes shone with happiness, a bit of nervousness, and little playfulness. Our bed was full of her clothes, looking like she had been angrily fighting with every piece of her clothing.
"I can't do this with you staring at me! "
"I stare at you all the time," I said, looking at her reflection in the mirror. "Cara, why are all your clothes on the bed?"
"I had to find the perfect outfit," she scowled, daring me to criticize her decision or the need for it."
"Did you try on all of them?" I was surprised at her resilience. I gazed at her adoringly. "Why are you so nervous about this visit? He is just a priest; he probably won't notice what you'll be wearing."
"Yes, he will, but I'm also doing it for you." I stared at her, wondering how trying on all her clothes were about me.
"You answer to no one. You're a law unto yourself, but father Jośe says he wants to see you, and you're ready within hours to honor his request. He means something to you, and the last thing I want to do is embarrass you with my choice of clothing." she said, fidgeting, staring at her hands.
"Trust me, the only thing in my mind right now is the joy I'm going to have shown you off to him."
"Really?"
"Really." I chuckled as I watched her watching me in the mirror, a smudge of something white on her nose.
"Please, Raphael, stop hovering over me; I will be down in five minutes," she finally said after a few seconds.
"Will that be the normal traditional five minutes or what Bruno likes to call women's interpretation of time? "
She chuckled and smiled at me through the mirror. Her hands lying easily at the surface, her eyes mischievous.
"Right now, I'm on the traditional normal time." still grinning, her whole face lit up.
"Okay," I said with a nod and went back downstairs to wait with the guys.
Sophie came down within five minutes as she had promised to look stunning in a floral top, a jungle green skirt that reached her ankles, and scalloped black heels.
I was stunned, mesmerized; she literally took my breath away. The guys stared too. Which full-blooded man wouldn't?
She touched her right earlobe nervously, looking adorably shy.
"I'm ready to go now. Do you think father Jose will approve of my outfit"
"I keep telling you he wouldn't care about it."
"He is a man of the cloth; I don't think he would appreciate it if I wore jeans or the other short dresses in the closet."
"Trust me; he wouldn't mind."
"Regardless, I want to be decent."
I stood up and walked up to her; she was standing on the last stair. I stood in front of her, clenching her pulse really tight.
"Don't be nervous, father Jose is going to love you," I told her, brushing her hair behind her ears.
"You look gorgeous, care," she flushed, hiding her face on my shoulder. It felt amazing, her slim frame in my arms. The way she gravitated towards me made me feel like I was the most powerful man in the world.
"Can I carry you to the car?" I whispered directly to her ear, she shook her head, but I wished she would let me carry her; I loved it.
I wondered what father Josè would make of her. He would probably fall into her web as we all had.
Italy was my home, but it was also the country that accommodated most of my enemies. So the guys had to come with us. That's why Romano was angry that I had traveled alone and particularly alone in Italy.
I've always believed that if I were to be assassinated, it would be in the heart of Italy. Probably by an acquaintance, but comforting to know it would not be by a friend.
Most people in my circle would probably say that it was my just deserts and comeuppance in my death. Others would say— poor bastard or good riddance, but I knew for a fact some would celebrate as much as I knew of a few who would mourn me.
While I had made numerous enemies and met as many acquaintances, I only made two friends and one diminutive, red-haired girl who moved my axis.
Gazing at her now, I realized she was my whole world. I had lived my life unafraid of tomorrow, picked fights without a second thought about the outcome. I never feared death until now.
My life wasn't so cut and dry anymore. I had started having dreams; all centered around Sophie. Neither was I indestructible, I had an Achilles heel, and she was standing right in front of me looking beautiful and shy. Father Jose was right—God really had a sense of humor.
Sophie
I didn't know what to wear, but I knew what not to wear.
I needed a dress or a skirt that would reach my ankles; I wanted to look beautiful and decent. Finally, I managed to find the perfect outfit, and looking at the guys' reaction; I thought I pulled it off.
Raphael walked purposely towards me; he had a smile on his face, mischief lurking in his dark eyes.
He had let a bit of stubble grow; he hadn't shaved at my urging. I loved rubbing my face on it, and he said I was like a cat purring on his face. I felt like doing it at the time, but I avoided it since Romano and Bruno were staring at us with interest and knowing looks.
Father Jose was a surprise for me; he was the opposite of what I thought priests should look like.
He was tall with dark hair and a few white hairs at the front. He had grey smiling eyes, a smile that made you feel like you could bottle it up if it were possible. He wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt tucked in, which to me was a fashion fail, but he was a priest, I guess it was allowed. He reminded me of a younger version of Andy Garcia, except he was now older. I made a note to tell Raphael about it later.
"So, this is the young woman I have heard so much about." his arms were outstretched towards me, bypassing Raphael and scooping me up in a bear hug. I felt protected and loved at the same time. I knew there and then that father Jose would always be my ally.
I could hear Raphael cussing and Bruno's chortle.
"She is beautiful, caro," Father Jose said, letting me go but still keeping me in the circle of his arms. He was fatherly, which was apt because that was his title.
"I know. She is mine," Raphael said, coming to stand beside me. Father Jose looked at him, amused.
"Sit with me, Sofia; the boys can sit on the other couch" I had a feeling that he was the only person in the entire world who could call these guys boys and get away with it. I let him walk me, debating whether I should correct him by telling him my name is Sophie, but Raphael beat me to it.
"Her name is Sophie, not Sofia. She is also not Italian, so don't try that habit you have of speaking Italian to everyone you meet."
"I don't do that. I feel offended that you would say that." Father Jose sounded offended and hurt, but the guys collectively snorted.
He did not respond or look at them. Instead, he smiled at me, telling me Sophie is Sofia in Italian and offered to teach me Italian for two hours every day as long as we were in Italy. Raphael grunted, scowling at the priest, but father Jose kept his smile.
Watching Raphael angle his slid back and propped his ankle atop his kneel. He resembled a sultan preparing himself to start on a selection exercise of women for his harem.
"If she needs to learn Italian, I will teach her myself," Raphael glowered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"When exactly are you going to find time to teach her?"
"When I damn well find the time."
"You mean for a few minutes between living in sin?" the priest asked. The guys burst out laughing, even Romano did laugh, but I blushed; I was sure my face had the same color as my hair. I was embarrassed that a priest knew I was having sex with Raphael—a priest discussing my sex life.
But as embarrassed and mortified as I was, Raphael remained unabashed. Nothing fazed him, and I sometimes hated it. The way he remained put together, undisturbed, by things that disconcerted most people.
"Don't get into my sex life again, old man; I'm not fifteen anymore!"
Then they both switched to Italian, and I felt left out, and it wasn't a good feeling. But then father Jose switched back to English, and what he said did not only break my heart, but my world crushed as well.
The man I loved was in the mafia. He was a mafia don.
"Oh my god, oh my god." I kept saying, tears down my face. I couldn't focus on anything; I couldn't see anything. I started walking towards the door, but tears blinded my eyes; I staggered like an inebriated person.
Raphael yanked me to his arms, whispering calmly, but there is nothing he could have said to make it better. There is nothing he could have said or done to change who he was. My world had crushed beneath my feet, and I didn't even see it coming.
When I thought about Raphael's secret, a mafia don never crossed my mind.
I wanted to lean into his chest, but I struggled and pulled myself out of his comforting arms. I felt like I had come to an end of a beautiful journey headed to an unknown destination. I felt lost. I was in a foreign country, thousands of miles away from home, from anything familiar, and the man I loved had become as much a stranger as everything else.
Suddenly Italy no longer appealed to me. I wanted to put miles of distance between me and this country. I no longer loved it.
Within minutes Italy had become depressing.
"Leave the two of us alone now," Raphael said. His voice unsteady. For the first time since I had known him, he wasn't unfazed.
"Sit down! All of you," I warned, daring either of them to move. I wasn't going to be left alone with Raphael. I knew he would probably try to make love to me. Like making love to me would erase who he was.
"Cara, we need to have this conversation in private," he told me, trying to persuade me calmly, but I was past caring; my world had fallen apart, I didn't care who was present to see it crumbling.
"Well," I said, haughtily trying to glance at him, but tears still glistened on my lashes.
"Why didn't you tell me before this?"
"I was going to tell you by the end of this trip. We made a deal, remember?"
"Yeah, the deal!. You knew I wouldn't have slept with you if I knew who you were, yet you let me do it anyway."
I heard a startled groan from father Jose, but I had got to a point where I no longer cared how either of them perceived me.
But I was going to be honest with myself, without telling him that I didn't regret making love with him, to him or him making love to me.
That was my truth, but he didn't deserve to know it.
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