Page 4 of Shattered Choices

This is a fucked-up situation. I can’t sign. Nor can I bring her back.

I do the only thing I can at this moment. I place the papers in the drawer of my desk and leave.

One day, I will sign the papers and give her what she wants. Just not today.

three

Isabella

Through the window of my father’s private jet, I watch the beauty of my home country and how small the infrastructure of the cities looks from the sky filled with clouds.

The last time I flew here was just a few months ago, and the man who broke my heart has done everything to distract me from the fear I had. My heart stings from the memories, and I distract myself and study the things I see through the small window of the jet.

When I first stepped on the plane, I thought I would be scared of what was coming, but I realized the pain I left New York with is bigger than the fear I have of my father and what he can do.

I lost my dreams and the life I wanted; I lost everything I ever thought had value. I failed in keeping the promise to my mother; I failed myself.

The car is waiting for me as soon as I land. My father isn’t the one who is waiting for me. Instead, I’m met with the friendly face of Pino.

As soon I’m in his arms, I exhale all the tension that followed me on my way back home.

“Hey, piccola. Everything is going to be fine. I promise,” Pino murmurs into my hair. “I sorted everything, and your father is so excited you are back.” I pull away from him, and he takes my cheeks between his palms, looking at me with the promise in his eyes. “We will make things work, as I promised. My promise since we were kids that I will always take your side and protect you hasn’t changed.”

I nod. If there were tears left, I would cry, but all my tears have been shed for the dream I lost. Now, I need to be strong if I’m back to live the life I ran away from.

Pino pulls me to his side and walks me toward the waiting car. “Your father isn’t the same man he was before. What happened to your mother and you running away aged him.”

We stop near the car, and I narrow my eyes at him. “He killed her because she wanted to leave him.”

He shakes his head. “You should talk to him about it.”

“There is nothing to talk about.” I shrug and get into the car, ready to be driven to my childhood home and the memories that haunt me.

I watch people through the window of the car as we pass the narrow streets of Calabria. I watch the trees and how the wind shakes their leaves. I watch every detail that passes us until we reach our destination.

Villa dell’Amore Eterno.

The place my father built for my mother. My father made sure that no matter the cost, she lived in luxury. That she had all the best things money could buy. He built this place with his own hands and with the help of just a few men. It took him several years, but it represented everything my father couldn’t say with his words. My mother understood him, understood the value and the effort he put in. The foundation of what this place represented.

The place where I thought happiness was. But the foundation this home was built on died with my mother.

I exit the car and look at the infrastructure of the house and the rose bushes around it that, due to the winter, don’t have any blooms.

I shiver and pull my coat closed, crossing my arms and trying to gain control of my feelings.

I will need to control myself, my emotions, and what I feel if I want to live this life.

And it starts now.

So, without a second thought, I walk toward the back door and open it. I walk the tight walkway to where I know I will find my father, the model of someone I need to be in order to live this life.

I reach the white stone pavilion with its pillars dressed in rose branches that, in summer, are blooming. From the inside, it is a paradise my father built; it was a pedestal for the love he showed to my mother every day.

At least, that’s how I remember it.

How my mother taught me.

The lean figure of my father with hair that used to be black and is now all silver is sitting in the same place he has for as long as I can remember, in the cushioned loveseat only he and my mother sat in. The fountain he’s facing is new, and when I take a goodlook at it, my heart skips a beat as I realize the statue at the top is of my mother.

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