365 Days

by Blanka Lipinska

  His expression was impassive, utterly emotionless.

  “I couldn’t say no, honey. It’s my family,” I stammered, trying to placate him. “And it was only a dance.”

  Massimo stood immobile, saying nothing, before turning around and leaving. I wanted to go after him, but heard my mother’s voice behind me.

  “Laura, dear, I see your training hasn’t been in vain. You were absolutely brilliant back there.”

  I spun on my heel and Mom fell into my arms, kissing me and stroking my hair. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, close to tears.

  “Oh, Mommy, it’s all thanks to you.”

  We stood in each other’s arms until I remembered Massimo’s reaction.

  “Has something happened, darling?” Mom asked, seeing the change of my expression.

  “Massimo is a bit jealous,” I whispered. “He wasn’t too happy seeing me dance with my ex.”

  “Remember, Laura, you can’t allow him to act like he owns you. He has to understand you’re not his property.”

  Oh, how wrong she was. I was his property. I was his and only his. It wasn’t about his permission, though, but the fact that I cared so much about what he felt and thought. I knew his authoritarian behavior was as much a result of his upbringing as the appearances he had to keep up throughout his entire life. It had nothing to do with wanting to make me his property.

  I went outside and searched the entire estate, but Massimo was nowhere to be found. His Ferrari was still parked in the same place we had left it. Through an open window in one of the buildings I heard a conversation in English. I recognized my brother’s voice and went that way.

  “Good evening,” I said to the receptionist. “I’m looking for my fiancé. A tall, handsome Italian.”

  The girl smiled and glanced at her monitor.

  “Apartment eleven, third floor,” she said, pointing me to the stairs.

  I reached the right door and knocked, and my brother opened it a while later, sporting a wily grin.

  “Hey, sis, what are you doing here? Petey’s bored with the dancing already?” he asked sardonically.

  I ignored him and entered the apartment, crossing a short corridor to the living room. There was Massimo, sitting on a leather sofa, turning a credit card in his fingers.

  “Having fun, baby girl?” he asked, leaning over the coffee table.

  There was a little pile of white powder in the middle of the glass counter, and Massimo was arranging it into short lines. I froze, staring at the scene, when my brother appeared, holding a bottle of Chivas in his hand.

  “I like your man,” he said, nudging me on the arm and sitting next to Massimo. “Knows how to party.” Don Massimo put a finger to one of his nostrils, bent over the table, and snorted one of the lines of coke.

  “Can we talk, Massimo?” I asked.

  “If you want to ask me whether you can join us, the answer is no.”

  My brother burst out in laughter.

  “My sister and cocaine? That would have been a deadly combination.”

  I had never tried any drugs. Not by choice, but rather out of fear. I knew what they did to people and how unpredictable they made them. The view of those two doing lines brought back the worst memories and a feeling of fear that I never wanted to experience again.

  “Kuba, would you leave us for a while?” I asked.

  Seeing my expression, he got to his feet and put on his jacket.

  “I was about to leave anyway. That blonde at table three has the hots for me.”

  Before he left, he called out to Massimo, “I’ll be back.”

  I stood and watched the Man in Black snort another line, washing it down with a sip of the amber liquor. I walked over.

  “Is that how you’re planning to spend the evening?” I asked, reclining in an armchair.

  “Your brother is a great guy,” he replied, ignoring the question. “Very smart. Knows his way around finance. I could use a creative accountant in the family.”

  The thought of Kuba joining the Mafia made me feel nauseous.

  “What are you babbling about, Massimo? He’ll never join the mob.”

  The Man in Black barked out a laugh and took another sip.

  “That’s not your decision to make. If he’d wanted, I could make him a very rich and very happy man.”

  My brother’s main flaw, besides his love of women, was his love of money.

  “Will I ever be able to have a say in anything? Will you ever take my opinion into consideration before making a decision? Because if not, I don’t want that life!” I yelled, jumping to my feet. “I have enough of that! Of not having any influence over what’s happening. Of not being able to decide about my own life!”

  Fuming, I left the room, slamming the door behind me. I took the stairs down and sat in a gazebo in the garden.

  “Fuck this,” I hissed to myself.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Piotr asked, sitting next to me with a bottle of wine. “Has your friend gotten under your skin?” He took a swig straight from the bottle.

  I stared at him for a second and was just about to get up when I decided I didn’t really want to run from him. I reached out, took the wine from him, and poured a generous portion down my throat.

  “Chill out, Laura! You don’t want to get wasted this early.”

  “I don’t know what I want anymore. And seeing you here… Why did you come?”

  “I knew you’d be here. How long has it been? Six years?”

  “Eight.”

  “You haven’t called me or responded to my emails. You never pick up your phone. You didn’t even allow me to explain. Or apologize.”

  I turned, facing him, angry again, and snatched the bottle from his hand.

  “What’s there to explain? You tried to kill yourself in front of me!”

  He dropped his head.

  “Yeah. I was an idiot. But then I went to therapy and I’ve been clean ever since. I tried getting my life together, but after a while I realized you were the only woman I wanted to be with. So I stopped myself. I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I wanted you to be alone, and maybe…”

  I raised a hand to shut him up.

  “Piotr, you’re the past. The city is my future. I’m living a different life now and I don’t want you in it.”

  He leaned back, flopping over the backrest.

  “I know, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s really nice to see you. You’re even more beautiful now.”

  We sat there, talking about everything that had happened during all those years, about my life in Warsaw and his dance studio. One bottle of wine, then another, and a third.

  CHAPTER 18

  I was woken up by sunlight shining over my face and a grotesquely strong headache.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned, crawling out of bed. I took a look around and realized I wasn’t in my parents’ house. I walked across the apartment and found myself in the living room, suddenly remembering the events of last night. Massimo leaning over the white powder and talking to Piotr, and… nothing after that. I grabbed my phone and dialed Massimo. He didn’t pick up. At least he’s consistent, I thought, though deep down I really didn’t want to talk to him hungover.

  I went to the bathroom and took a long shower before walking to the window. There was a black SUV parked downstairs, and Paolo was standing next to it smoking a cigarette. I glanced at the spot where the Ferrari had been parked last night—it was gone. I put on some clothes and went down.

  “Where is don Massimo?” I asked Paolo.

  He didn’t reply, only gestured to the back seat of the car. I stepped in, and he closed the door. We drove to my parents’ house, stopping at the gate leading up to the driveway. Paolo got out and opened the door for me.

  “I’ll wait here,” he said, getting back in.

  With my shoes in my hand, I crossed the driveway and rang the doorbell. My mother opened the door.

  “Nothing like a French leave,” she said with a grimace.
“Come. Breakfast is ready.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” I replied, walking to my room to change.

  As I sat at the table, Mom passed me a plate with eggs and bacon.

  “Bon appétit.”

  The smell of food made me retch. I sprinted to the bathroom and threw up.

  “Are you all right, Laura?” Mom asked, knocking on the door.

  I left, wiping my mouth.

  “I had a little too much wine. Do you know where Massimo is?”

  Mom sent me a quizzical look.

  “I thought he was with you. How did you get here?”

  There was no sense in lying, so I told the truth.

  “A driver brought me. I told you Massimo had some business around here, too. One of his employees waited for me. Jesus, my head is killing me,” I mumbled, collapsing onto a chair by the table.

  “Well, then I gather the party moved outside after your dance.”

  I didn’t move, trying to remember what had happened. Nothing came to my mind. I gathered my things and prepared to leave after breakfast.

  “When will you visit us again?” Mom asked.

  “Next week we’re going to Sicily, so it won’t be anytime soon, but I’ll call you.”

  “Take care of yourself, darling,” she replied, hugging me.

  I slept through the whole drive to Warsaw, waking up only twice, trying to call Massimo.

  “We’re here, ma’am.” Paolo’s voice woke me up.

  I opened my eyes and discovered we were at the VIP terminal at the Okęcie airport.

  “Where’s Massimo?” I asked.

  “In Sicily. Your plane is waiting,” he said, offering me a hand.

  The sound of the word “plane” made me rummage through my handbag on instinct, searching for my pills. I popped two and went to the check-in counter. Thirty minutes later, I was sitting in the private jet, dazed, waiting for it to take off. Flying with a hangover wasn’t too pleasant, but the pills at least made me sleepy.

  After another four hours we arrived in Sicily, where a car was already waiting for me. Domenico greeted me at the driveway of the mansion.

  “Hi, Laura! Good to see you,” he said, embracing me in a bear hug.

  “Domenico! I’ve missed you so much! Where’s don Massimo?”

  “He’s in the library, having a meeting. He asks that you freshen up first. You’ll meet at dinner.”

  “I didn’t think we’d leave so fast. Are my things here?”

  “They’ll be brought in tomorrow, but I’ve made sure to resupply your wardrobe. You should have everything you need.”

  Walking down the corridor, I briefly stopped at the door of the library. I could hear voices from within, but I didn’t go in, despite really wanting to.

  I took a shower and got ready for dinner. Not really sure what had happened last night, I decided to dress up, just in case. I chose my favorite set of red lace underwear, then reached into the closet and picked a flowy black ankle-length dress. I slid my feet into a pair of wedge platform sandals and headed toward the terrace. Massimo was sitting at the table laden with food and illuminated with candles. He was talking on the phone.

  I walked over to him, planted a kiss on his neck, and sat in the lounge chair next to him. Without interrupting his conversation, he turned to look at me with that dark, icy stare. It couldn’t mean anything good.

  Finally putting down the phone, Massimo took a sip of wine and asked, “How much do you remember from last night, Laura?”

  “I think I remember the highlights. Such as you snorting tons of coke,” I replied sarcastically.

  “What about later?”

  I thought about that, feeling the fear kick in again. I had no idea what had happened after the second bottle of wine with Piotr.

  “I went out to have a chat and some wine,” I replied, shrugging.

  “So you don’t remember anything?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “I remember having too much to drink. Shit, Massimo, what’s this all about? Are you going to tell me what happened or no? So I blacked out—is that so bad? I was angry at you and what you did. I went to the garden and met Piotr there. He wanted to talk, and we had some wine. That’s all. Besides, of course, you leaving me again without a word. To be honest, I’m fed up with your constant disappearances.”

  The Man in Black pushed deeper into his chair. His chest was heaving faster.

  “That’s not all, baby girl. When your brother returned sometime later, he told me why you reacted like that, seeing the cocaine. I wanted to find you then. And that’s when I saw you.”

  His jaw clenched. “In the beginning you talked, but then your friend overdid it a bit with the openness and tried forcing himself on you, taking advantage of the state you were in.” Massimo trailed off, and his eyes grew completely black.

  He lifted himself from the chair and smashed his glass on the stone floor. It broke into hundreds of shards.

  “That fucking little shit wanted to rape you then and there!” he roared, his hands balling into fists. “You were so out of it you thought he was me. So you let him do what he wanted. I had to stop him.”

  I huddled in my chair, terrified, trying to recall what had happened, but my mind was blank.

  “Mom didn’t tell me anything. What happened? Did you beat him up?”

  Massimo laughed ironically, walked over to me, turning me and the chair his way, and propping his arms on the armrests.

  “I killed him, Laura,” he hissed. “But not before he confessed to what he did to you years ago, when he was drugged. If I knew that before, I wouldn’t have allowed him to join us at the table. He’d never set foot in the same room as you.” I could see the emotions threatening to rip out of him. “How could you not tell me about all that? How could you allow me to eat at the same table as that fucking monster?”

  Shocked and terrified, I gasped for air, praying that he was lying.

  “I think he must have been planning to fuck you the whole evening. My presence made it harder. So he waited for the right moment. He had drugs on him, and I think he spiked your wine. To prove that I’m not lying, we’ll do a blood test.”

  Massimo took a step back, putting his hands on the table.

  “When I think about what that motherfucker did to you, all I want to do is kill him all over again.”

  What was I feeling right now? Fear, fury, and helplessness in equal measure. A man had died because of me. Or maybe the Man in Black was only bluffing, trying to punish me again. Slowly I rose from my seat. Massimo drew near me, but I raised an arm to fend him off and careened back toward the house. Bumping from wall to wall, I reached my room and locked the door. I didn’t want him here. I didn’t want to see him. I popped a pill to calm my racing heart, took off my clothes, and cowered in bed. I couldn’t believe what he had done. When the pills started to work, I fell asleep.

  The next morning, I was woken up by knocking on the door.

  “Laura,” I heard Domenico calling from the other side. “Can you open the door for me?”

  I walked over and turned the key in the lock, letting the young Italian in. He shot me a sympathetic look.

  “I’d like you to do something for me, Domenico, but I don’t want don Massimo to know about it.”

  My assistant turned to stare at me, disconcerted, deciding on how to respond.

  “Depends what you’re asking.”

  “I’d like to see a doctor. I’m not feeling well, and I wouldn’t want to worry Massimo.”

  “But you have your own physician who can come here at any time.”

  “I’d like to go to another one. Could you arrange that for me?” I wasn’t going to back down.

  Domenico took a moment to study me. “Of course. When do you want to go?”

  “Give me an hour,” I replied, going into the bathroom.

  I knew the Man in Black would learn about all this, but I needed to know if he had been telling the truth. If I had been drugged at the wedding
party.

  Before 1 p.m. we took a car and drove to a private clinic in Catania. Doctor Di Vaio didn’t keep me waiting. He wasn’t the cardiologist I had seen before, but a general practitioner—just as I had asked. I explained what I wanted to check and asked him to take the blood samples at once. Waiting for the results, Domenico took me to a late breakfast before driving me back to the clinic around three. The doctor invited me into his office in English, sitting me down in a chair and turning his attention to a stack of papers in his hands.

  “There are intoxicants in your bloodstream, miss. Ketamine, to be precise. It is a psychoactive substance that can cause amnesia. This is very worrying. We need to order more tests and consult with a gynecologist.”

  “A gynecologist? Why?”

  “Why, you’re pregnant and we need to make sure the baby’s okay.”

  I clamped my eyes shut and opened them again, trying to come to terms with what he said. “Excuse me?”

  The physician gave me a surprised look. “You didn’t know? Your blood tests leave no doubt. You’re with child.”

  “But… I took a test two weeks ago and had my period before that. How is that possible?”

  The doctor smiled good-naturedly, propping his elbows on the table.

  “You see, a period can still come even three months into a pregnancy. A pregnancy test’s result is dependent on many factors, including the time of insemination. We’ll order some more tests and a sonogram. The gynecologist will tell you more. We just need to take another blood sample first.”

  I sat still, squeezing my eyes tightly shut again, feeling I was going to faint.

  “Are you one hundred percent certain?” I asked.