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ᴛᴡᴏ
𝐺𝑜𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢
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The street across from Maria's flat was bustling with the chaos of everyday life just as it always did. It was amazing how normal everything was when her own life was now anything but. She was irked by the fact that they were carrying in as if nothing had changed, when everything had. Had they not noticed the sudden shift of mood around them? Did they not see that the clouds that covered Small Heath had become even darker and more brooding, as if waiting for something to happen so it could lash down with its lightning, just at the right time?
The woman who lived in the flat opposite was shouting at her kids again, her barking voice travelling the side distance and shrugging through the gaps in the wooden frame of the window that she stood at. The sheets that were hung in her window, drying in the cool breeze, were flapping against each other, struggling out of the mother's grip as she fought to pull them outside as they first spot of rain met her greasy head.
Maria's gaze had been obscured by the drizzle too. The window was already dusty enough, but was now smudged by the drops that sped down the glass pane, racing to drench the outline that already threatened to drop off from the rot.
The only thing that she could see that seemed to share the tension that spread through her small flat, was the small bakery down the road. It was owned by her cousins, and for obvious reasons to her alone, had been sit up, their large windows being covered by wooden boards to try and ward off any rocks or balls. The sign that usually stuck out from the wall, hanging on two squeaky, metal chains, was the only thing that could make the building distinctive from the identical ones that stood around it. It wasn't there anymore, and Maria found her eyes unintentionally gazing passed it, until she recognised the bench outside of it, where everything had started.
In her hands, the lace curtains, that were draped from a badly-place pole, tickled at her skin. Though she had never been the most tan of her Italian family, her olive skin had paled, the fabric almost blending into the colour, the creases in her palm holding little contrast.
In her flat, it would be the little things that she would miss. Much like the view of the busy occupants of the houses opposite, or the way the pattern of the netting would trace designs made from sunlight onto her cream walls, or the sound of the scratchy violin that would travel through the thin walls. She had ten days left to soak it all in and commit it to memory. Ten days until it would be Christmas Eve and her brother's enemies would have their threat.
It had only been three days and she already loathed the stinging of the icy metal on her skin. The gun was slipped under her waist band, marking her body like a tattoo, it's presence daunting. Every so often, she would accidentally reach to it, her fingers pushing it down, making her catch it and push it up, reminding her of the purpose of its use.
Elena was talking as Maria thought to herself. She had been half listening, the words flowing through her mind but the meaning never reaching far or creating a real image that could be deciphered.
"Maria? Are you listening?" Her voice woke her from the trance, reminding her of the woman who she imagined to be feeling the same as her.
"I know this is hard, but I am here to help." Elena insisted, placing a hand to her shoulder as she moved to stand beside her.
The rain was coming down harder, thrashing against the frail glass and clattering loudly, sending echoes through the room. She couldn't see anything through it, but she could imagine the sight just the same.
Maria sighed. "I know. I'm just finding the change difficult."
Elena nodded as she pulled her back to sit on the settee. They settled next to each other, arms interlinked as they held each other together.
"You're brother won't let anything bad happen. You have nothing to worry about." Elena tried to comfort her, but it only made her frown even more.
Elena held too much confidence in Luca, she thought. Maria knew her brother, he was too ambitious for his own sake. No matter tenacious he was when it came to even the minor detail, she couldn't allow herself to think to highly of his plans. But maybe that was the cynicism in her speaking. She didn't know where she had gotten that trait from, as both her mother and father had a habit of thinking too much of themselves. Her father had ended up dead.
"I know." Maria lied, pulling her lips up into a smile. Elena needed the reassurance too. "It won't stop me from worrying. You should have stayed in New York, for the baby."
"And leave you in the state that you're in?" Elena shook her head. "You look plain suicidal, Maria. You weren't happy before all of this either."
The harsh and tasteless words that Elena had snapped at her, shivered down her arms. Her chin was lifted as she bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Maria had never thought of herself as sad, she had always assumed that everyone else felt the same. Everyone else had problems, so why should hers be so significant?
"What would make you happy, Mari?" She asked, taking her hand tightly in her grip. "More than anything else in the world?"
With her second round of words, Maria was in her happy place again. The apartment. The sea. The bakery. Except this time, her stomach was back to its normal size, her dress fitting as it always had. In her hand, something was pulling her down, the clutch soft and plump. Not something. But someone.
Maria chocked back a sob as she answered. "A baby."
Elena softened, her hand instinctively reaching to place itself on her own stomach, feeling the bump of her child.
"You will be a beautiful mother, Maria." She said, reaching a hand to her cheek and wiping a stray tear. "Never forget that."
Maria shook her head, her eyes blinking rapidly.
"But I will never bear a child. I know it." Maria said, tears spilling against her lips and tasting salty against her tongue as she tried to speak. "Not with the burden of my name."
"But I am a Changretta now and I will be a mother. What makes you any different?"
"I swear my blood is poisoned. My mother was never meant to give birth. Me and my brother almost killed her. And her mother before that died in childbirth." Maria cried. "They were all born Changretta and did not marry into it. I know."
Elena's face broke both for worry of herself and her sister in law. Maria's face was torn with grief of the child she believed she could never have, her hands clutching at her chest as if her heart physically ached. After so long of keeping it in, the tears and frustrations rolled out, spilling in puddles against her dress.
"I will never be a mother. Never have a family. Never have a husband." She cried. "I don't know what to do with my self, Elena."
Arms were wrapped around her, pulling her into a warm embrace as her shoulders shook. Maria felt pathetic, her tears burning into her skin.
She had been told twice before that she was pretty when she cried, that she suited the woeful twist that morphed on her strong face as she sobbed. It was as if she was born to wear it, the melancholy costume fitting her perfectly in each curve of her body, no matter how asymmetrical or odd.
"You need to calm yourself first. Just breath." Elena instructed, her hands rubbing over the coldness of her arms. "Then we need to find something else you can concentrate on. Until you're ready. God will bless you with what you deserve."
Maria nodded, her hands brushing the tears from her face easily. She knew where she had to go. Now that her angers had been let out, her shoulders were relaxed and face smoothed out. She remembered what she had wanted to think about in the first place, of the change that would happen, some good and some bad. Maria could only wish and hope that things would turn out good. She could only pray.
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