Chapter 10 #2
Knowing how busy both Miles and I were, I held off on thanking him until I saw him at the party on Saturday.
The day after I met with the new clients, Elena called me, expressing how pleased she was with what I had accomplished so far in Miles’ house, as I sent her photos and sketches of the completed work.
Gratefully, Anna seemed to have looked past whatever caused her stern reminder of the office rules, telling me more than once what a great job I was doing.
I was still riding that high as I walked around the Little Italy Farmer’s Market that Saturday morning. I wanted to find the perfect housewarming gift for Miles and MJ; something personal from me.
My phone pinged multiple times. When I slipped it out of my back pocket, a wicked grin crossed my face.
Enzo: ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?
Enzo: I know this was you!
Enzo: I can’t believe you did this!
Me: Why r u yelling
Enzo: Vicky, I know this was you. You still have the gym’s IG log-in info from the charity gala ads, don’t you?
Me: Yeah, what about it?
I snickered thinking about him pacing and pulling his hair.
Enzo: Vicky! Everyone in the gym is hugging me. Hugging me! Are you crazy? An old woman pinched my butt this morning!
Stepping away from the crowd onto the sidewalk behind the tents, I closed out the text app and went to his gym Inspire Fitness’ IG account.
My post that read “Our fearless leader Enzo might look tough…but every fighter needs a hug sometimes! The hashtags #toughguysneedhugstoo #gentlegiant #trainerfeels, were the perfect revenge. I laughed so hard, I couldn’t breathe.
Me: Ren, mission accomplished
Ren:
Enzo: Vicky, you’re so dead.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I walked back to the market, satisfied and deliriously happy. While browsing Sofia’s IG the night before, I got an idea from her posts. Luke, Miles, and their whole family loved the beach as evidenced by multiple posts I’d seen.
I wandered through the market, sampling everything from vegan cookies to matcha tea.
When I passed a tent run by a local artisan, I knew exactly what to get for Miles and MJ.
Moving past other customers milling about in the small space, I was amazed by the craftsmanship of the wooden pieces.
As my fingers brushed over the golden-brown pieces, interwoven with multi-colored resin and sand, it reminded me of the olive tree at home.
“It’s olive wood. Our family has a connection with the owners of an olive grove in Temecula,” said a portly woman with bleached blonde hair and a smile that conveyed pride in her work. Her words confirmed my suspicions about the wood’s origin and the love of the craft that was so clearly evident.
“They’re beautiful. I love the shades of blue like the ocean and the gold streak—stunning. I’m looking for a housewarming gift, and this piece would be perfect. I’ll take it,” I said with a smile.
“It’s one of my favorites. Almost hard to part with it because it’s one-of-a-kind.
No attempt to recreate one for myself has succeeded,” she said with a chuckle.
“It’s my homage to kintsugi. The wood cracked unexpectedly while I was working with it, and I tried to piece it back together with resin and golden metal powder.
Came out more beautiful than I expected. ”
The term brought to mind a visit to Alex and Aria’s home in Positano, where she carefully showed me a bowl with a gold vein when I asked about it.
It was a Japanese art form called kintsugi, which literally means “golden joinery.” Her tearful story about Alex taking her to a class where she made the bowl while they were dating, to show how God can create beauty from broken pieces, deeply moved me.
“I’m honored even more to be the one to have it. Thank you so much,” I answered after she wrapped it in tissue paper and placed it in a gift bag for me.
“Corinna, are you sure about this?” I hissed in the dressing room of a local boutique. Her fiery-red hair was in a long braid behind her as she laughed at my reaction.
“You look like a goddess, Vicky,” she assured me as I turned around in the small space.
I’d brought a few outfits in with me for her to see on our video call.
The dress in question was a white corset-style sundress with a cheerful lemon print and tiny green leaves, and I had to admit that I felt pretty good in it.
When I turned away from the mirror to check behind me and make sure my ample hips weren’t making it lift oddly in the back, I mumbled, “I don’t know. It might be too much for a simple house party.”
“Girl, that dress does wonders for your…assets,” she said, winking at me conspiratorially.
“C-o-r-i-n-n-a,” I yelled, accentuating every letter. There was no hiding my blush. When the store attendant knocked and asked if I was okay, I wheezed out a quick “sorry, yes I’m fine.”
Cackling again, my sister-in-law answered, “Vicky, if I had your curves, I’d be showing them off too.”
“Pfft. I’d trade with you any day.” My words always drew the same furrowed and frustrated look whenever I mentioned my dislike for my…assets.
“You’re lucky I’m not nearby to give you a good throttle.” Her stern words softened in her next words. “I hate when you talk about yourself that way. You’re my sister now, something I always wanted. Do you really not see what I do?”
“See what, sister? Rolls, cellulite? A body that doesn’t fit any of the cuter styles? Do you know how hard it is to feel like you don’t fit in? I’ve been bigger than my friends and schoolmates since elementary school.”
My voice was low, my words stuttering from me in a flow I couldn’t stop. Taking a breath, I whispered, “No matter what I do, don’t do, eat or don’t eat. Or how much I exercise, I can’t, I can’t seem to be…”
My words halted as I sat down on the tiny bench wedged in the corner, my chest heaving with the weight of the emotions pouring out of me. I hung my head and stared at my feet to avoid the full-length mirror mocking me as I held back tears.
Corinna’s expression had softened from her earlier chastisement, and her bright eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“You can’t seem to be what, Vicky?” she whispered.
On a sob, I answered, “Normal.”
“Oh, Vicky.” Her soft words broke the last vestige of control that held back the dam of tears. Muffling them as best I could in such a public place, I let them go as she spoke words of comfort and love over and over until finally the tears ceased, leaving me feeling oddly calmer.
She looked behind her before moving to her bedroom and closing the door with a soft click, no doubt making sure my brother was still out of sight.
“Vicky, my sweet, beautiful girl. First of all, you have got to stop equating outward beauty with worth. There is beauty in every single woman, and very little of it has anything to do with the size of her clothes or the number on a scale.”
Her soft words made me hiccup and wipe the last of my tears away as our eyes met. She had never been this forceful before, and her words hit a sore spot that lived in my heart for as long as I could remember.
“I know your brother and your amazing mama so I’m sure this hasn’t come from them.” I was vehemently shaking my head, confirming her words.
“So, where is this coming from? Tell me?”
I huffed out a humorless laugh. “Everyone else. Society. Magazines, movies. Men who look over me like I’m invisible. People who sneer at me when I’m eating at a restaurant.”
Her expression flitted between warring emotions in a matter of seconds. Compassion, hurt, rage.
“You mean faceless people you don’t know and who don’t know you? Anonymous people on social media that only show you their highlight reels? Celebrities with motives that influence what they show to the public?”
“But I want to look like them,” I whined. “I want to walk into a store and pick up a size 8 without having to try it on. Again, like a normal woman.”
Repositioning on her bed, she shook her head. “Do you honestly think that’s how the majority of women live?” she scoffed. “It’s not, my girl. We all have our insecurities and hang-ups, the bone-thin models on those covers as well, who feel pressure to meet other people’s expectations.”
Leaning against the tall, ugly mirrors, my eyes catching on the blinking fluorescent lights above, I answered, “I just want to feel beautiful. Lose all this weight and feel beautiful.”
“There’s nothing inherently wrong with that.
If you want to lose some weight safely, go for it.
But not because you think that’s what will make you feel beautiful.
You are beautiful, Vicky. If you don’t think you deserve to feel beautiful right now, right here, in this version of your body, then that’s a deeper issue. ”
I sniffled and nodded. “I know. I know. You’re right.”
“Then let me say it again and again. Outward beauty, size 8 jeans, does not equate or define your worth. If you don’t love yourself, as is, in all your versions, in all your seasons, in every way, your life will be so much less than it can and should be. Do you hear me?” she asked passionately.
Nodding slowly, I answered, “I hear you.”
Taking a deep breath in, she wiped her own tears and said authoritatively, “Then stand your beautiful butt up and take another look in that stupid mirror.”
I huffed out a laugh and rolled my eyes, standing to face my nemesis. “’And another thing. Bring a few outfits home next time. No one, and I mean no one, looks good in that lighting,” she added with a look of disdain at my surroundings.
I looked at the way the corset-style “snatched” my waistline, a term I’d learned on TikTok from a few heavier models I followed.
Turning slightly from side to side, I could see the appeal Corinna mentioned.
It hugged my curves at the top, then skimmed over my dreaded middle that I always tried to hide.
“Guess it’s not so bad,” I said, mostly to myself.
“Got that right, my goddess. You look like something out of a fairytale. Any man seeing you at the party tonight is going to be clambering to get your number.”
Before I could reply, the screen was filled with my burly brother, who had entered the room, probably looking for his wife. The expression on his face told me he had heard her, too.
“No men. No parties. No giving out your number,” he roared.
Corinna playfully slapped his arm and tried to push him away from the phone, but it was no use. The man was as solid as a rock.
“Enzo,” I groused. “You need to stop. I’m a grown woman living on her own in another country, I might add,” Miles’ words giving me confidence.
“Amor, she’s going to a work party. And she’s right. You need to stop treating her like a child. Just stop,” she said, her words getting more forceful when he tried to interrupt.
He ran a hand roughly over his short hair with a grunt.
“I just don’t want you to get distracted. Or hurt.”
“I know that. You’ve been saying that in every text you’ve sent me since I got here.
I’m gaining new clients, working hard, and my boss has said I’m doing well.
My eyes are focused on my career. Tonight is just a party I helped with for Miles and his employees.
” I lifted my head in a clear attempt to assert my own authority when the mention of that name made him growl.
“I’m a grown woman, and I’m tired of how you treat me. ”
Corinna pressed her lips together, her eyebrows raising, her smile not lost on either Lazzara on the call.
With an exhale, my brother answered, “I don’t know how to do that. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”
I smiled wide like I’d won a hard-fought victory, but my celebration was quickly shut down as he peered closer, his face getting ridiculously bigger with the movement.
“You can’t wear that dress,” he grumbled. “It’s, it’s showing too much…”
“Assets? Yes, my love. Get over it. She’s got them.” His horrified face disappeared as her face filled the screen. She mouthed, “go!”
She didn’t need to tell me twice as I fumbled to end the call. With one more glance over my body, I heard the knock of the attendant again.
“Need me to find you anything in another size, miss?”
With a widening smile, I answered, “No, thanks. I’ve got the perfect size.”