Page 30 of Unworthy Ties
“You always wait for me. When I slide into bed at three in the morning because of this damn job. Even when my shirts are covered in blood stains that I can’t explain… you’re still here.”
He took a step into the room; the floorboard creaking under his weight. His shoulders seemed to carry an invisible burden, the kind of weight that came from secrets and shadows.
“I don’t deserve it,” he continued. “I’ve never given you a good reason to put up with my shit.”
The words hung between us like a confession, and I felt my chest tighten with a mixture of longing and fear. Part of me wanted to rush to him, to tell him he was wrong, that he deserved everything good in this world. But another part of me knew he might be right. The bloodstains weren’t from cooking accidents or shaving cuts. The three AM arrivals weren’t from late business meetings. And those “connections” that could procure impossible-to-find books were the same ones that made people disappear.
As the weight of his words settled in the air between us, a heavy silence enveloped the room, thick with unspoken truths and untold stories. I could see the turmoil in his eyes, the storm raging within his soul as he stood there, a solitary figure cloaked in shadows.
“You’re wrong, Rocco,” I finally spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. “You may be surrounded by darkness, but there’s a light within you that shines brighter than you realize. I see it, even when you can’t.”
His gaze softened, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he masked it with his usual stoicism. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, the lives I’ve destroyed,” he murmured, his voice tinged with sorrow.
“I’ll always be here, Rocco,” I whispered, reaching out to touch his hand, a silent promise passing between us. “No matter the shadows that haunt you, you’ll never have to face them alone.”
And as he finally crossed the room to stand beside me, I felt a sense of peace settle within my soul, a gentle reassurance that no matter what darkness the future held, we could face it together.
Rocco had left for work before I woke up. I stared at the empty space beside me, the sheets still holding the faint impression of his body. My fingers traced the indentation, seeking warmth that had long since faded. This was becoming our routine—ships passing in the night, leaving only ripples as evidence we’d ever crossed paths.
I needed to talk to my therapist.
I ran to the closet and unzipped the piece of luggage I kept Giuseppe in. My stuffed animal was still a secret from Rocco—how could I explain that a grown woman still needed the comfort of a childhood cat? I pressed him against my chest, inhaling the faded scent of home that still clung to his worn fur.
His button eyes seemed to glare at me now, trying to tell me that he was upset at being kept in a suitcase.
“Well what am I supposed to do?” I told him. “What would my husband think if his grown wife had a stuffed animal she talked to?”
Giuseppe’s silence felt accusatory, as if even my childhood companion was judging the woman I’d become.
“Sorry,” I said, sitting him on the bed. “But I have so much to tell you.”
I launched into a speech so long the Senate could have used it for filibustering.
“And then,” I said, finishing my lengthy explanation to Giuseppe, “Rocco got me this book—the one Mom used to read to us. The one Dad threw away.” I picked up the leather-bound volume from my nightstand, showing it to the stuffed cat as if he could appreciate its significance. “A first edition, Giuseppe.” I ran my fingers over the embossed cover again, marveling at how something so simple could feel so profound. “Do you know what that means? It means he listened. Really listened.”
Giuseppe stared back with his unchanging button eyes, but I could swear there was a hint of understanding in those worn stitches. Maybe even a little forgiveness for keeping him hidden away.
“How did it go from being a business arrangement… to this?”
The ringing of my phone cut through my monologue. I grabbed it from the nightstand, half-expecting Rocco’s name to flash across the screen. Instead, Fiorella’s face lit up my display.
“Hello?” I answered, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder as I righted Giuseppe.
“Gabriella,” Fiorella’s voice complained through the other side of the phone. “I never thought I would say this, but it sucks even more with you not here.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, settling back against the pillows with Giuseppe in my lap. The familiar sound of my sister’s voice instantly lifted my spirits.
“It’s just Dad and our two idiot brothers; mom is gone most of the time with her friends. And by “friends” I mean her personal trainer she’s probably having an affair with.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, though the mention of my mother’s potential affair sent an uncomfortable pang through my chest. “Fi, you can’t just say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s probably true. Anyway, that’s not why I called.”
“Well, what is it?” I asked.
“Let’s go out and do something. You’re probably just sitting around talking to that stupid cat again.”
My cheeks burned with embarrassment even though she couldn’t see me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, quickly shoving Giuseppe behind a pillow.
