11. CHANGELING
GIOELE
“But your father said to head straight for the ranch, right? He wants us in the bunker.” Silvina sends me a look, and I can’t help but move a stray lock from her face. She’s so extra beautiful this morning, while she leans into the backrest of my car.
“I know, but Isaias is more candid than Il Lince, and I want all the details on this crap. I’m damn sure he’s wanting all hands on deck to get shit straightened out, and—”
“That doesn’t mean you,” she tells me, eyes hardening.
The Escalade has a shiny new windshield. We were damn lucky too, with the motel owner’s brother being in the business. He came right over—charged us double, I’m sure—but I can’t even begin to say how relieved I am I didn’t have to get on the highway without protection.
“I don’t know yet. Would that bother you?” I cock a smile her way.
“Of course! What are you talking about? They just tried to kill us. Probably you, more than me—no one knows the women of the Nascimbeni. Isn’t that what you pride yourselves in?”
“That’s just an old myth,” I say. “There’s no hiding the stunning girls of the Nascimbeni famiglia.”
I recognize that look. Her mood is dropping. Lower lip jutted out, she places her feet, buried in a pair of pink UGGs, against the dashboard. “Don’t jinx us.”
I bite my lip, recalling the sensation of her wrapped around me this morning. I woke up to her smooth form pressed tight against me in sleep. No one was there to interrupt that moment. No family, no roommates, no wannabe boyfriends. It was my perfect, old memory renewed, and I just lay there, awake with her arms around me for thirty minutes before she finally stirred.
“Okay, no jinxing,” I say, clearing my throat of sudden gruff. “Isaias’ house is on the way there, though. We’ll just stop by Hillside real quick and go straight to the ranch next. Sound good?”
“Mom’ll worry about me.” I hear it in her tone that I’ve won.
“We’ll call her once we’re at Isaias’. That’ll make her happy—she knows his place is a fucking fortress.”
She sends me a shy smile.
“See?” I grin back. Then, I can’t take it any longer. I lean in and steal a kiss, and—she lets me. My heart. Fuck. My heart’s going off.
“Gioele, baby.” The tone she uses I don’t like.
“Hmm?”
“You can’t keep doing that. We’re about to get home, and it’s over. We… were happy, though. Right?”
We’re back on the highway, and the cars whiz by. I still crawl the car to a stop on the side of the road and turn to her. “Come here.”
For a second, she hesitates with her eyes searching mine. But then she relents, lets me envelop her, and pull her under my chin. “I promise, Ina mia. I won’t put us in danger. Nobody will know, okay? Just don’t reject me anymore. You hate it. I hate it. We’ll just hide what we are. I’m fine with that.”
Silvina starts to shake her head, pressing her hands against my chest. I keep her in my arms, shushing. “Please. Stay here for a bit.”
She lets out a breath. Relaxes against me. I kiss her head. Again. Again.
“I have to tell you something.” I need to clear my throat. I do it twice while I consider how to make this as pain free as possible.
“Why do I feel like I won’t like this ‘something?’” she asks.
“Yeah, well. I sort of squealed to my brother the other day.”
She blinks. “Squealed?”
“I told him I love you.”
SILVINA
I don’t get upset easily, and I don’t erupt like most of the women in our family. But when I’m mad, I’m mad, and Gioele respects that. Since he told me about his confession, I’ve been quiet. The implications are far-reaching. What if Isaias shared it with someone else, and they, in turn, shared it with Il Lince or my own parents?
I’m stewing, and Gioele is anxious. He hates it when I brood, especially when it’s his fault. It’s bad. I keep sending him side-glares. He feels them the second they hit, turns his head, and catches me in the act.
“You know what it makes me think about, right?” I ask.
“Yeah. The summer we were sixteen, at Lake Como. But it was up to interpretation what we were doing at the hayloft,” the mule says.
“Really, Gioele? Mom is no dummy, nor is Zia Carola, our dads… Grandpa.” I snort. “Oh, my god, not even la nonna defended us. Think back.”
He smacks the steering wheel lightly, the only sign of him being upset. “I don’t need to think at all. It’s a damn film running in my head. All I need is to turn it on.”
“Do it, then.” I send him a scowl.
“Yeah? You don’t think we’ve had enough fun for one day?”
I fold my arms tightly and kick my UGGs against the dashboard. He doesn’t like that. It’s a small victory when all he does is look at my feet.
“Fine with me. It was early afternoon at the end of the summer. Il Lince and Zio Cosimo spent most of the time in Italy conducting business in Venice, so it was us kids, the moms, and the rest of the family at the lake. Lazy summer days. Sleeping in. Me sneaking in through Gabi and your window when Gabi left to be with the bartender at the Trattoria Antelmo. Remember him?”
I suppress a smile. “You’re just talking about the sweet part. Get down to it.”
“I’m getting there. Every good storyteller has to set the scene first, see?”
“Chop, chop.” I can barely contain my smile, now; it’s not easy to remain upset with this man.
“All right. So my girlfriend and I—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry. My mistress and I, we had this secret rendezvous place, sort of a lovers’ nest, if you will. The hayloft was old and not in use anymore. The ground floor, which was originally a stable, was now the only part of the building still in functioning order. At the time it was used as a toolshed.
“From the outside, a small bridge went up to the top floor where the hayloft was. The bridge had collapsed years ago, and we were banned from playing there out of fear that we’d get hurt.”
“Interesting how this is turning into The Story of the Hayloft. You’re so good at deflecting,” I say. It’s getting more difficult to remain serious.
“Almost there,” he assures me, nodding as we enter the last tunnel before Hillside. He’s either referring to his brother’s house, or to the most humiliating time of my life.
“My mistress and I, we—”
“Okay, just use my name. ‘Mistress’ is horrifying.”
“Right. Ina mia and I had been kissing in the toolshed all summer, but this particular day, she was teasing me—”
I snort out laughing. “Can you talk to me as if I’m me, and not some other person? Just say ‘you,’ not ‘she,’ stupido.”
He makes a show of thumping his head into the backrest. “So-o picky. Anyway, on some dare from you, I started climbing one of the rickety old work benches. I lost balance. As I was about to fall, I grabbed for the ceiling, and snagged a handle there. It was well camouflaged, in the same weathered grey color of the wood. I tugged on it, opening what turned out to be a trapdoor. It even had a pull-out ladder.”
“It was a bit magical,” I say.
“It was. You walked up first. It was full of old, yellow hay, and the dust hung thick in the air, lit up by the sun that shone in through a few narrow openings. They weren’t windows.”
“No, just holes.” I exhale, smiling. “You’re so bad. Look what you’ve done.”
He sends me a glance and smiles too. “You’re thinking good things, see? It’s what I’m here for. I was made to make you happy.”
“But then they came, and we didn’t hear them,” I say.
“That was a week later, though, at least.”
“Nine days later. It was on a Sunday, and our dads had just returned. Why did we take our chances on the day of the big welcome festa for them? We were so stupid.”
“Because I was drunk on you and couldn’t get enough of your skin. I couldn’t even stop looking at you at the time.”
“Can you now?”
That happiness he talks about soars in my chest. The plunge is far when you let it take over, though, so I press it down.
He puckers his mouth in a mixture of a kiss and a smile that’s uniquely Gioele’s and says, “Not really.”
“Tell me what happened, then, the way you saw it.”
“We had a blanket up there. You called it our love blanket.”
“It was.”
“I’d spread it out for us, on top of the hay in one of the corners. Unfortunately, we were in a hurry and hadn’t pulled the ladder up yet. I just needed to kiss you a little bit before I did it. Just a little bit. You were wearing a short green dress with puffy sleeves.”
I groan. “How do you still remember that stupid dress?”
“Because you were still in it? I had plans to remove it very thoroughly.”
“You were always thorough.”
He kisses my shoulder. I tell him to be careful and keep his attention on the road. Then, I urge him again, because we both need the reminder of how excruciating it is to be caught in something so shameful. It wasn’t just sweet, innocent teenage love. It was… what did his father call it? An abomination.
“How did I look,” I ask, “when they came up the ladder?”
“Your dress was still on.”
“But with three buttons open in the back.”
“They couldn’t see them. You were facing me.”
“At first, yes, but Mom saw when I buttoned the top one. You stroked my hair too,” I say. “That wasn’t smart.”
He blinks, keeping his eyes shut for a moment. “You looked like we’d already made love. Your hair was mussed from the blanket, and you had hay in it. You were so pretty.”
“Mom came up first.” I chew on the corner of my lip. For me, this film plays in the sharpest of colors.
“Yeah. And you got up so fast. That was another mistake.”
“You helped me to my feet, even stepped in front of me while you smoothed my hair. We looked so guilty.” My cheeks are warm with shame. “‘What are you guys doing up here?’ Mom asked, face all painted with suspicion.
“Before we could answer, she yelled down the ladder to my father, ‘Honey, your daughter is up here—with Gioele.’ It was like everyone was just waiting for their cue in a play. They seemed to climb up in seconds, one after the other, while Mom stared us down.”
“Then, you took a giant step away from me. Remember that?” Gioele laughs softly. “That was used against us a few times afterward.”
Humming, I cover my face with my hands. I don’t know if I can go through this again after all. “I remember the whole conversation at the kitchen table afterward,” I still say. “Mom and Dad had me between them on one side of the table, and you were on the other side between Il Lince and Zia Carola. Then, la nonna entered. Grandpa too.
“As soon as la nonna understood the situation, she ran off to fetch poor Oscar. Great Uncle Vito and Great Aunt Antonella had been shunned by the family since Oscar was born, but with both of them in the nursing home, Oscar only had la nonna and Grandpa to take care of him.”
“We’re almost at Isaias’. What happened at that table happened, but it’s over, Ina mia. They can do nothing to us anymore.”
I turn up the music in an effort to drown out that wretched conversation. Gioele folds his hand over the back of mine, lacing our fingers together on the mid console. My heart feels leaden. It moves up and down so quickly around him. That’s not right either.
He pulls my hand onto his thigh. Warm and hard, it promises protection and love, what I’ve always needed from Gioele.
My mind still goes back to six years ago when la nonna entered, small and clear-eyed against the bulk of her nephew Oscar. His dim gaze searched before it landed on me. Then, the face of the fifty-year-old man broke in a child-like grin.
“Wee Silvi!” he exclaims, clenching his gnarled fists with delight. La nonna slows his forward motion, but sometimes he’s both fast and strong. Suddenly, he holds me tight, squeezing me.
I choke my whimper, because Oscar doesn’t deserve my fear. He’s never caused anyone harm. Look who my father is. Look who my uncle is. And yet I’m afraid of Oscar.
I’m sixteen. I should be over these fears. Just, since I was little, the deep pleads of his wrinkles and the ogre-hunch of his posture have starred in my nightmares.
“Wee Silvi!” Such joy over seeing a girl who’s never appreciated him.
“Hush, Oscar,” la nonna says sweetly. She loves him and doesn’t fault him for his parents’ sins. “Have a seat. Do you want a slice of panettone?”
He claps his hands, nodding, eyes off me and beaming at his aunt. The leftover Christmas bread is a treat she stores for Oscar’s special occasions. He’s in heaven while she smears on thick layers of butter and honey, just for him.
As he seats himself happily next to my grandfather, she places his treat on a plate. Oscar rocks in his chair, unable to wait while he mutters, “Che delizia, che delizia,” to himself. “Milk too?” he pleads, and my grandmother assures him she will bring it too. “Whole milk, yes?”
“Of course, my darling.”
During their exchange, everyone is tense around the table. Does Oscar feel it? He looks calm. Mom leans forward, running her gaze between me, Gioele, and Il Lince. I don’t like how she’s pulling them in with it. No one wants to interrupt Oscar’s joy over the two slices of panettone and his whole milk, so she starts the conversation in a hushed tone, and that’s how it will continue until I’m dissolved in tears.
“Gioele and Silvina. I saw it in your eyes at the hayloft, and I should have caught it earlier. I guess I just didn’t want to see what was right in front of me.”
Zia Carola sends a stare so full of disappointment at her son, I can’t believe he doesn’t crumble under it. “How could you, Gioele? She’s your cousin. Do you not understand what that means?”
“Ma, c’mon. There’s no need to be so worked up.” He says it in a low, soothing tone that makes Il Lince slam a hand on the table.
“Enough. What the hell do you think you’re doing, here, Gioele? This is how you pay me back for everything I do for you? You denigrate your own cousin. You’re supposed to take care of her, not sully her!”
Oscar keens, eyes worried as they flutter away from the table. La nonna puts a hand on his shoulder. “Evodio, per favore. Keep your voice down. There are children present.”
For a second, it upsets me that she calls Oscar a child. There should be a word for someone who isn’t confined to the boxes of adults or children. Heart genuine, he has kept the innocence and instincts he was born with. It’s why the farm cats rub against him on their way past. It’s why the owls come closer to him than anyone else.
“I’m sorry, Oscar,” Il Lince murmurs. “It’s okay.” He settles a heavy hand on Oscar’s shoulder and rocks it before returning his glare to Gioele. “Are you familiar with the word ‘taboo?’”
My face is hot with mortification.
“Of course, I know what it means, but it doesn’t apply to us. Silvina and I, we’re just close. You know that. Everyone says we’re like sister and brother, and they’re right! I seriously have no idea what the big deal is.”
His attempt at protecting me makes Il Lince seethe. “Don’t. Test. My patience.”
“I think we need to be practical, here,” Zia Carola interrupts before Il Lince explodes again. “I’ll be praying to the Lord Almighty that you didn’t already commit the ultimate sin, the one Vito and Antonella paid so dearly for.” A tender gaze goes to Oscar, who has returned to his slices of panettone.
“It happened right here in our family,” she adds, “and don’t you ever forget that. Oscar barely survived his first years of life, with all the health problems he had, and that was just the beginning. It will happen to you. Keep this up, and you’ll be punished for your sins too. “
My own father’s voice is quiet. “We’ve seen it, and we don’t want to see it again in two young, promising children who are too bright to fall into the same trap. It’s like caving in to alcohol. It’s living in sin, living outside the rules made by God for us to have a road, something to follow in this life. It’s a difficult enough path without consciously adding disasters to it.” In his mild, brown eyes, I read failure; my father, whom I love like crazy, is taking this upon himself, and it’s killing me.
“Zio Cosimo, Silvina and I are no different than Isaias and Gabriela.”
“That’s what we were thinking.” My mother’s eyes fill with tears. “But we never had to find them tucked away together like that. Your eyes, Gioele. They gave you away.”
“My eyes? What’re you talking about?” He’s getting mad, now.
“You were scared. Why would you be scared if you had nothing to hide?”
“Because you looked fucking pissed!”
“Don’t you dare swear to your aunt.”
“What were you guys looking for anyway when you climbed up after us?” Gioele shouts. “We can’t hang out where we want anymore, now, without people spying on us? What the hell?”
“You’d unbuttoned her dress!” Il Lince shouts back.
Oscar cries out and tips over the remainder of his milk. “Evo mad,” he sobs. “Evo mad at Oscar.”
“No-no-no, he’s not mad at you, tesoro. No one’s ever mad at you, okay? Ti amo,” la nonna whispers and sends Il Lince a stern look. Il Lince rubs his fist over his mouth, quelling his growl. La nonna dries up the spilled milk.
“Silvina’s dress got caught on a hook. It ripped off a button on the way up the ladder. I was helping her fix it,” Gioele says, eyes dulling with the knowledge they won’t believe him.
“Of course, you were. Fat chance a boy will help a pretty girl get dressed,” Grandpa mutters. I expect la nonna to put him in his place. She doesn’t.
“And what’s your explanation, Silvina?” My mother plucks straw out of my hair. I run a hand over it too late while she neatly gathers the straw in her palm and deposits it on my placemat.
“We were just messing around. We were play-fighting, and Gioele was teasing me.”
“Che vergogna. We didn’t lie like that when we were young,” la nonna mutters, holding up the last piece of panettone for Oscar. Appeased, he takes it and pushes it in between his lips.
“We’re not lying,” Gioele says. Later, he tells me “messing around” and “play-fighting” can be used about foreplay.
“Interesting how you can help her button up her dress and play-fight at the same time. You know the expression ‘tumble in the hay?’” Grandpa asks.
“Now, that’s enough,” la nonna says at the same time as he finishes, “It means having relations.”
The pain when I first bled with Gioele was nothing compared to this. Around the table, interjections are growing on everyone’s lips. Gioele’s in our favor, the others’, against us. Until Zia Carola rises to her feet. She sets her hands on the table and scans us.
“I think enough has been said and done today. All we want, children, is for you to search deep into your souls. Look at what’s right and wrong, and what you’re willing to do to keep it right for the rest of your lives. You’re not only cousins. You’re children of sisters, and children of brothers. Even Antonella and Vito weren’t as closely related as you.
“Because we love you, no one in this family could possibly stand by and watch you do this. Vito and Antonella were cut off from the family, and we’d hate for that to happen to you. It’s your job now to stop this attraction between you. To keep from being burdened with children who need attention you’re not prepared for, you end this now.”
My mother stands next, keeping a hand on top of my father’s fist on the table. “We can’t always be there to stop you. There will always be moments you could steal if you decided to commit sins within the roam of our family, so this will be on you. You need to make the right choice.”
While the rest of us rise from the table, Gioele gives it a last try. “We’re just best friends, like Isaias and Gabriela, and you know what? I’m not going to lose my best friend just because our parents are paranoid!”
And that’s when Il Lince hits him in the back of the head and sends him flying into the kitchen sink. Oscar wails, and la nonna ushers him outside so he can see nothing more.
“If you as much as touch a hair on your cousin’s head again, I will personally break your hands. There will be no more changelings in this family.”