3. Giada
Giada
The house has clean lines and very few objects. No framed photographs crowd the walls. Everything has a place, with empty areas between one thing and the next. The order should help. It doesn’t, since none of it belongs to me.
Two men stand outside the windows near the front drive. Both wear dark coats. One speaks into a phone while the other checks the gates. Luca’s phone vibrates. He reads the screen, types a short reply, and slips it into his pocket.
Luca reaches the stairs and looks over his shoulder. He waits until I catch up. The house is warm, but the cold from outside remains in the skirt of my dress. It brushes my legs as I climb. I keep one hand near the rail but don’t touch it.
He’s much younger than Giuseppe. His black hair is cut short.
His nose is straight, and his mouth is firm.
His suit fits close across his shoulders.
There is no extra flesh hanging over his collar or straining his buttons.
He’s handsome enough that looking at him makes warmth spread beneath my dress.
Handsome doesn’t mean kind. My oldest brother has a handsome face. He once held my arms while my other brother shoved wet food into my mouth. They laughed when I gagged.
An attractive husband could do worse things than Giuseppe. He might be stronger. He might enjoy hurting me more. My pulse pounds against my throat.
Tardigrades have eight legs, although the rear pair is used mostly for gripping.
Luca stops on the landing. I stop three steps below him.
“You okay?”
Am I? I have no answer. He doesn’t repeat the question. He steps aside, giving me enough room that our bodies don’t brush.
At the church, he fired a gun. He ordered me to marry him while men knelt between the pews. A pistol rested at his hip during our vows. He is dangerous. That part is not difficult to establish.
Other facts matter too. He didn’t leer at me, grab me, or laugh when I told him about cryptobiosis.
He didn’t touch me until he helped with my dress at the car.
He told me before we passed the armed men outside.
When I asked for a minute at the altar, he gave it to me.
He didn’t rush my answer, even though the priest and everyone else were waiting.
None of this proves he won’t hurt me tonight or next week, but he has been kind so far. So far.
We pass a man standing at the end of the hall. A gun shows beneath his open jacket. Luca pauses beside him.
“Any update?” Luca asks.
“Not yet. They’re checking…” The man’s eyes flit to me and back to Luca. “Another address.”
Luca gives one nod. “Call me when that changes.”
The man goes downstairs. I want to ask whose address they’re checking, but I remind myself I’m annoying. I want my new husband to like me or at least to tolerate me. I need to keep reminding myself not to be me.
Tardigrades live in moss, soil, fresh water, and oceans. They have been found from deep trenches to mountain peaks.
I repeat more comforting facts about tardigrades as I follow my new husband farther down the hall.
The runner beneath my shoes is gray and flat, with no raised pattern to catch my heels.
Doors line one side. Windows line the other, facing bare trees and a frozen garden. There are guards out there too.
“Security men will remain outside and throughout this wing,” Luca says. “After what happened today, they’re a necessity.”
I press my thumbnail against the side of my finger, then stop when I remember Mama’s order about my hands.
Luca doesn’t look at them. His attention stays on me anyway.
He checks my face, my dress, the hall ahead, then my face again.
I don’t know what he’s looking for. Perhaps he’s disappointed in me.
I’ve been very quiet. I think of Giuseppe’s comment about taping my mouth shut and I press my thumbnail against the side of my finger again.
He turns toward the final door. A bedroom.
A husband takes his wife to bed after the wedding to consummate the marriage. That is what comes next.
Clips of the porn videos I watched to prepare run through my mind.
Women with tied wrists. I won’t like that.
One woman cried, although the man continued.
In some, the women were assertive and asked for what they wanted, but I don’t have enough experience to give useful instructions.
I try to remember some of the words and phrases they used, but I’m so nervous and rattled from earlier that nothing comes to mind.
My husband will touch me. Touch my naked body. The memory of Giuseppe touching me, of his fingers pinching me, makes my skin feel like insects are crawling all over me.
But Luca’s hands are different. His fingers are long and strong with clean nails. I picture his hands on my bare breasts, and between my legs. I might like that.
Heat gathers under my skin. My nipples tighten against the itchy lace of my bra, and I feel an urge to press my thighs together beneath the skirt. I’m afraid of him, but I think I’d rather Luca be the father of my children than Giuseppe. I think.
He opens the door and waits for me to enter ahead of him. The room is large. White walls surround a wide bed covered in dark blue. Lamps stand on both sides, and another door opens into a bathroom. He drops my small suitcase near a dresser. I hadn’t even noticed he was carrying it.
The door closes behind us.
Consummation. This is the next item on the schedule. It may hurt, especially the first time. It may be unpleasant. I must submit. I must endure it. Luca DiCenzo is my husband now.
Interestingly, the thought of his naked body does not disgust me. I don’t know how he’ll feel about mine, but I must get naked.
Tardigrades are usually less than one millimeter long.
I need to shed this monstrosity of a dress. The zipper begins at the base of my neck, too high for me to reach. I turn my back to him.
“Please unzip me.”