Chapter 3 – Age 13
CHIARA
For the past three years, my friendship with Dom has only gotten stronger. We hang out either at school or at their bakery when Mom and I stop by.
Mom likes keeping tabs on the boys and spends time talking to Dom’s father while Dom, his brothers, and I eat way too many cupcakes.
We never stay too long—maybe thirty minutes—thanks to my father. He has his driver take us and bring us back. I’m still not allowed to go to Dom’s house, and neither is Mom.
The day his mom died and the day of her funeral were the only exceptions. But at least we have a little time to goof around and be ourselves at the bakery. That’s something.
Sometimes, when I’m allowed to go, I get to see Dom at the library.
I feel bad for my mom, though. She has no friends since Carmella died. She only has my aunt Kirsten, who we don’t see much of because Dad forbids it. I don’t know why.
But at least Mom has Dom’s father to talk to. I’m sure she’s lonely. Everyone needs friends.
Whenever Dom and I aren’t together, we’re chatting on the phone any time my father isn’t home, which is a lot lately. He runs a ton of different businesses and is always busy. Thank goodness. I hate it when he’s home.
But unlucky for me, he’s home today, and all I want is to see Dom.
I miss him.
I’m hoping I can sneak out undetected while he’s still watching TV and return less than an hour later. Will he even notice if I leave? He didn’t say anything when I tiptoed down the stairs. It’s like I’m invisible sometimes, until he needs something.
I tread slowly toward the door, right past the back of the couch he’s sitting on. I’ll just text Mom after I leave.
My palm lands on the door handle.
Almost there.
“Where you goin’?” my father clips out, the sharp edge of his tone coming through across the room.
My hand trembles as I twist my neck toward his voice, the side of his head greeting me, his eyes still glued to the football game.
My skin comes alive with fear, prickling with dread. “I’m just going to the library.”
I attempt with all my might to keep my voice even. If he smells fear, he’ll know I’m lying. Well, sort of. I am going there, but for reasons he won’t approve of.
“I have to work on a science project with kids from class.”
He’s quiet for a second, and I bathe in relief, hoping his silence means he’ll let me go.
Sometimes I’m lucky and catch him in a good mood.
And though it doesn’t happen a lot, those are the very best days because those days Dom and I get to spend hours together at the library.
They have a snack area where we can hang out as long as we want.
It’s the only place I can hide out and be a kid without anyone my father knows watching.
His driver always stays parked in the front. Never once has he come inside.
“No.”
One word, and my hope dashes away.
“That’s not fair!” I scream. “You always do this! I’m never allowed to go anywhere. I’m in school. I have things I have to do! Don’t you get it?”
The TV goes silent, and I know instantly I’ve overstepped. But I’m so sick of him controlling me and not letting me have a life.
Who wants to be friends with a girl who’s never allowed to do anything?
A few kids have tried to hang out with me, but it was always a no from my father.
I may just be thirteen, but I’m old enough to do stuff instead of sitting at home in my room.
It’s not like I can do anything after school, either.
He has his driver pick me up and drop me at home.
He gets off the couch, his round belly bobbing as he approaches me, the short-sleeved white t-shirt wet with a beer stain on his chest from the bottle still clutched in his fist.
Once he’s in front of me, he stares blankly into my eyes. Then suddenly, his other hand flies out and lands hard against my cheek.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to your father like that?” his voice bellows, scratching up the walls, filled with memories I’d love to rip away and bury somewhere they can’t touch me.
Tears sting my eyes as I hold a palm over my cheek, a whimper bubbling out of me.
“Faro!” Mom’s voice comes through, her long, black hair coiled on the top of her head. We look so much alike, even with me being a lot younger. “Don’t you put your hands on her!”
He marches over to her, his face twisting with disgust. “What the fuck you gonna do, you fucking puttana schifosa?” Filthy whore.
He spits in her face.
I pant, my eyes widened, my heart hammering so loudly it hurts to breathe.
Don’t hurt her!
But I can’t seem to speak. Terror is all I know.
She shuts her eyes, wiping it away, not shocked at all. This is a common occurrence, but every time it happens, I’m scared like it’s the first time.
His hands jump out, grabbing her around the neck, his face pressing into hers before he lifts her off the floor.
I rush toward him, hitting his back with my fists.
“Let her go!” I shout as I land another punch. “Let her go!”
Mom’s face turns red as she tries to breathe, her hands jumping out to claw his shoulders with her long French-manicured nails.
I continue to scream, to beg him to leave her alone, but it’s as though I’m not even there. His rage sees nothing but what it wants to consume, and right now, that’s my mother.
Running to the corner of the foyer, I grab the broom my mother had been using earlier and whack him on the head.
That’s when he finally drops her, holding the back of his head as he glares at me.
“You hit me?!” he growls with a thin slit of his gaze. “I’ll fucking break your hands!”
My eyes bulge, breaths flying out of me, fear plunging into the pit of my stomach.
“You hear me, Chiara? I’ll kill you!”
My mother runs over to me, standing between the two of us. “Don’t worry, baby. Mama’s here.”
He laughs cruelly, taking another step while we take one backward.
I’m almost against the wall when someone knocks on the door.
“Not a damn word!” he warns with a pointed finger in Mom’s face.
She clutches me in her arms, both of us trembling.
“Shhh,” she calms softly while I try to take normal breaths.
In and out.
In and out.
But I can’t calm the beating of my heart. It’s about to explode from my chest.
My father faces the door, nearing the peephole. And as he looks outside, he smirks, opening the door.
In walks my uncle Salvatore, his short brown hair spiked at the front.
“I’ve been calling you,” he tells my father, looking from us to him, his brows tugging curiously. “We have to get some business taken care of. Did you forget while you were scratching your ass all day?”
He glances at me with a smile, but I don’t return it. My arms curl tighter around my mother’s hips.
His lips form a thin line as his eyes return to my tormentor. “Get a jacket and let’s go, Faro. They won’t like us being late.”
“You think I give a fuck, Sal? Who the hell are they, that I should care?”
My uncle shakes his head as my dad heads for the walk-in closet in the hallway.
Crazy, Uncle Sal mouths to me, leaning over a little, gesturing with a finger around his temple, a suppressed smile on his mouth.
This time, I giggle.
My father whips around sharply toward the noise. But my uncle straightens, pretending nothing is going on.
Between my three uncles, Uncle Sal is the most normal one. He can be funny, unlike my dad. And his daughter, Raquel, and I get along as well as sisters.
My uncle Benvolio is okay too, but he doesn’t really talk to me much other than to say hello whenever I see him for family events or holidays, or when he comes over to do work stuff with Dad.
My other uncle, Agnelo, seems just as crazy as my own father.
When I see him with my other cousin, Aida, he’s always yelling at her.
She’s so timid around us. I hope he doesn’t hit her like my dad does me.
But I think she’s scared of him. I really do.
She barely ever talks when we have the family over.
When she tries to, she keeps glancing at her dad like she’s scared he’ll hear.
Once my dad has his jacket on, he leads Uncle Sal out the door. As soon as they’re out, Mom runs, locking the door, then her arms are holding me again.
“Listen to me,” she says in a whisper, crouching down as she tucks my face within her palms. “I have enough money to get us out of here. My friend is setting up a place for us far away.”
“What? Where?”
“Shh!” she warns before telling me more in my ear.
“You’ll find out soon. In one week from Monday, we’ll be gone.
I’ll get you early from school while your father has a meeting scheduled, and we’ll run away before he can find us.
Don’t say a word to anyone. Not Dom. Not your teacher.
Not a soul. He has eyes and ears everywhere. We can’t risk him finding out.”
She draws back as I nod, my heart pumping like crazy in my chest. Her eyes scatter over my face, her brows squeezing as tears flow over the edges of her eyes.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I cram my trembling hands together, hoping that will stop the tremors. But that only makes it worse. My mom notices as she peers down between my eyes and my hands.
“It’ll be okay, my baby.” She takes both my hands within hers and brings them to her mouth, kissing my fingers. “We’ll both be okay. You’ll see.”
I nod more frantically this time, my voice lost to the fear.
I hope she’s right. I hope there’s a way we can run without him finding out.
But not everyone gets what they wish for.
On Monday at school, all I can think about is what happened with my father over the weekend. When he got home later that night, he stayed away from my mom and me. I remained in my room, shaking with the fear that he might hurt us, but he didn’t.
“What’s wrong, Chiara?” Dom asks as he turns to me, taking the book from my hands and closing it on his lap. “I can tell you’re upset.”
I shrug, twisting my pursed lips to the right, ignoring that look he gives me, like he can read whatever is in my head.
He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You can tell me anything. I wouldn’t tell anyone. You know that by now, don’t you?”
I glance back at him. “I do. I trust you. You’re the only one who knows me at all.”
I’m afraid to tell him what happened a couple of days ago, when my father slapped me for wanting to go to the library. When he hurt Mom.
“Is it your dad? Did he flip about something again? Is that why you bailed on Saturday?”
I huff out an exasperated breath. He knows that whenever I’m in a crappy mood, it’s always my father’s fault.
“Yeah. He wouldn’t let me go. He started an argument. All my parents do is fight. Everything is his fault. I don’t even want to be there.”
I want to tell him about Mom’s plan, but I know I can’t. Not yet. I can’t risk putting my mom in danger, not even for Dom.
“How bad is it at home?” He tightens his hand over mine.
I sigh deeply, letting out more than my breath. Letting out the truth.
“I can’t take the screaming. Him hitting my mom all the time.”
“Does he hit you?” he asks with a hushed breath.
I’ve never told anyone. Not a soul. But I’ve known him long enough to trust him not to tell. He knows what could happen if he does.
“Sometimes,” I answer coolly, shrugging as I stare at my hand clasped in his. I can’t manage to look at him.
He plants his palms on my shoulders, and my hand still tingles, wanting his back.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
I peer up at him shyly, embarrassment flinging through me. “What could you do? No one can stop him.”
His teeth clench, his bright green eyes narrowing. I’ve never seen him look this angry.
“One day I will,” he promises. “One day, when I’m bigger, I’ll be stronger than him, and I will hurt him for what he did to you. I swear, Chiara.”
And I believe him.
“Oh, Dom.” I toss my arms around him in a tight hug. “I love you so much. I’m so happy you’re my best friend.”
Tears sting behind my eyes, but I push them down. I don’t like to cry, especially in front of people.
“I…I love you, Chiara. You’re my best friend too. You always will be.” He hugs me tighter. “Promise me…no matter what happens, we’ll always be friends.”
“Of course we will be!”
We separate, and as he looks at me, his lips turn into a frown. “Sometimes I get scared you won’t like me anymore, like your father.”
“That’ll never happen. And if you ever try to stop being friends with me, you’d better watch out. I know you’re afraid of me.”
“Oh, yeah?” he laughs, the worry now gone. “What can you do to me?”
I roll my eyes playfully, swatting him on the chest. “I’ll figure it out. Give me a second.”
“Uh-huh. You figure it out while you read. We have a book report due in two days, or did you forget?” he whispers.
“Stop changing the subject.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Just admit you’re afraid of me.”
“Fine.” He raises his hands like he really is. “I am afraid. You can be crazy.”
He smiles, and those dimples I love make an appearance.
“Hey!” I giggle softly, pushing at his chest with a hand.
But I am crazy, because one of these days, I plan to find the courage to tell my best friend in the whole world that I think I like him as more than a friend. I don’t know what it means to have a boyfriend, but I want him to be mine.
If he doesn’t agree, I’ll probably cry. I can’t risk making things weird. But I also can’t keep my feelings to myself either, especially with Mom and I leaving in a week. I need him to know.
“Together forever,” he says as he lifts his pinky.
“Together forever,” I promise, hooking mine into his, rubbing the half of the heart at my neck, the one I gave him three years ago.
His is still on him too.
I have every intention of keeping my promise. Because no matter where I go, Dom will always be with me.