Falling For Rome 2

by Edwina Fort

  *********

  “Nossa, we weren’t aware Mrs. Garcia had any remaining family left here in Ribeirão da Ilha.” The nun dressed in the all-white habit said to me in Portuguese as she led me back to the area where they took the residence for afternoon games and entertainment.

  I smiled at her, but my mind was a million miles away. When I first got back here to Brazil, I had contemplated not making this trip. I wanted to begin anew, but I knew it could not be done without the closure of this part of my life.

  Watching my father and his family go on about their daily business, not knowing I existed was breezy compared to this. My father was a stranger…the pain of his rejection will never add up to the pain of my mom’s…Not even close.

  “Your mom hasn’t made much of an improvement. She has her good days, but of late, they are pretty far and few in between. I am glad you came to visit when you did…”

  She left off right there, but I knew what she meant. My mom didn’t have much time left. I nodded… “I’m glad I came too.” The lie slipped easily from my lips.

  As I followed the sister back, I took in the serenity of this place. As a child, my mom and I had passed this monastery many times. The sisters here did all they could to make sure their patients were comfortable in their last days.

  It’s why I chose this place…Well, that and it was completely off grid. They did everything here old school. I knew for a fact there were no computers and if there were phones, they were the good old fashion landlines.

  I had set up a direct deposit directly to their bank. But the good sisters here at Mary Catherine’s would continue to take care of my mom even if they didn’t receive payment. They served the community. The residents of Ribeirão da Ilha were the only ones in the world that even knew the beautiful monastery existed.

  She led me to a heavily gardened area. Beautiful rose vines grew up the wall everywhere. In some areas of the garden, art easels had been set up for those that wanted to paint. At the far end of the garden, it looked as if some kind of elderly aerobics class was taking place.

  My gaze landed on a small figure that sat bundled in several blankets in a wheelchair in front of a small fountain. Someone had put her salt-and-pepper thinning hair in two braids that fell over the back of the wheelchair. Her head leaned to the side as if it was too heavy for her to hold it straight up.

  It had been nearly ten years since I last saw her, and the nun nurse was right, time had not been kind to her.

  “Ms. Garcia…You have a visitor. Your daughter is here to see you.”

  My mother didn’t bat an eye. Had it not have been for her fist that she balled up tighter in her lap, I would have doubted she’d heard the nurse at all.

  “This is not one of her good days. She’s refused to eat and won’t talk to anyone. I’ll leave you with her, maybe you can get her to eat a little something.”

  She smiled kindly and eased past me. I stood for just a moment, not sure what to do or to say. This was the woman who had damaged me so badly that I’ve never been able to have a successful relationship with another human being.

  She was the reason I could not trust love.

  She was the reason why love didn’t live here anymore…

  I eased down in the chair in front of her…as soon as her eyes touched me, they widened a bit as she took in all the changes that had happened to me. However, a moment later she rolled them before turning to look away from me.

  Disgusted…

  “Hey, mama.” My voice quivered a bit as I fought the pain I felt at her rejection.

  She huffed balling up her fist tighter in her lap.

  I laughed without any humor. “How have you be—”

  My words trailed off. What was I doing?

  Why was I even here?

  After all these years of having to be tough, I felt tired. Being with Rome for that short time had made me forget my tiredness, but it was back…with a vengeance.

  I exhaled. “You know, mama, after all these years, I’ve finally figured out why you hate me. You hate me because I’m just like you.”

  Her little fist balled up tighter in her lap. So tight her tan knuckles had turned white.

  “I fell in love, mama. I fell in love with a great man. A far better man than my papa.” I chuckled again without any humor. “Although, I don’t know what he saw in me.”

  She turned then and looked at me. And for a moment her gaze felt normal, like a caring mother listening to her daughter tell her about the time her heart got broken. Tears welled up in my eyes.

  "I'll never be good enough for him," I muttered as I wiped the tears away with my hand that slightly shook.

  I took a deep breath, trying to get a hold of my emotions. Although I’ve felt like it, I haven’t allowed myself to have a good cry about Rome. I guess I didn’t have it in me to show that kind of weakness. But that cry was always there, threatening to explode from me like a dam.

  “I’m moving back to the house, mama.” I continued, changing the subject. “I haven’t been there yet. I came here straight from the airport. I know it needs tons of work.”

  I’d been battling with myself about whether or not I was going to try and buy a new house or fix up the one we already have. And I’d decided to save money and just fix up the one that we already had. The land had been in our family since just before slavery officially ended in Brazil in 1888.

  My great, great grandfather’s master had given it to him in 1885 when they passed the Sexagenarian Law here freeing all the slaves over sixty-five. It was said that his master was also his brother and there was actual love between the two. So he’d given my grandfather twenty-two acres located at the base of Morro do Ribeirão or the Hill of Ribeirão, for his family.

  When I was a little girl I would climb to the very top of the hill and look out across the bay and just imagine what the United States was like. I knew my father was there, and that he'd brought my mom there for a short time to give birth to me so that I could be a citizen. But then something had happened and I and my mom ended up back on the Brazilian Island of Santa Catarina.

  Most of the land had long since been abandoned. Before I left to go to the military my mom and her aunt were the only two remaining relatives still living here. My mom’s aunt died some years ago, which meant nobody had lived here in a long time and I had my work cut out ahead of me.

  But that wasn’t bad, I welcomed the distraction. I planned on throwing myself into fixing up the farm until I became too busy to think about Rome or anything else for that matter.

  My gaze settled back on my mom and suddenly I felt like I was suffocating. One visit was enough to take me back to those days of feeling completely worthless. I stood from my chair needing to be free from this place.

  I leaned over and gently kissed her forehead… “I just want to let you know that I forgive you for hurting me, mama.”

  **********

  I dropped my bags on the floor just inside the front door and a cloud of dust flew up causing me to sneeze. I took my shades off and looked around amazed to see that everything was still how I’d left it. When I came to put my mom in the nursing home over ten years ago, I’d covered the furniture that had all belonged to my avozinha in white sheets.

  At the time I didn’t think I would ever come back here. Before my avozinha died I had good memories of this place, but after she died, my memories became haunted by a mother, who’d at one time been a raving beauty, only to be rejected by her lover and become a bitter shell of the woman she used to be.

  No…I didn’t think I’d ever be back.

  Yet here I am. I turned to walk back out to the porch, which will need all new wood and just looked out over the space. There was an old farmhouse that sat between our place and my great aunt’s place.

  I will begin my work there so that I can get it ready for my future prized babies. I'm sure I can hire on a few hands to help me. I'll use this week to get the house in a livable
condition and then take a trip inland to the Winston stables.

  I wonder if Juan the old stable master was still around. I wondered if he still remembered me.

  I wondered if I could make it through this day without giving in to the tears that were choking me.

  Needing a quick distraction, I decided to go down to the river and wash the road off me since the water and electricity weren't on in the house yet. I squatted down in front of my bags to remove a fresh tank top and a pair of shorts when my hand fell on the package Rob had given me before I’d left the block party.

  In all the excitement of getting out of Chicago and then New York without Rome seeing me, I’d forgotten to open it.

  My hands shook a bit as I untied the twine and then gently peeled back the cloth to see that it was a painting.

  But do you guys remember those tears I told you I was fighting to hold back? Well let me tell you, they were flowing now.

  He’d painted a very detailed picture, displaying his genius, of Rome and I asleep in the bed. It looked as if we had just made love because neither of us was wearing any clothes. He’d managed to capture the contentment we felt for each other even in our sleep, on our faces. There was a sheet draped over our lower half and Rome’s muscled arm was draped over my breasts, holding me to him as if he was afraid to let me go…

  Nossa! Rome’s arms had become my favorite place to sleep…

  I put my hand to my mouth to stifle my cry… Why had Rob done this?

  Why?

  I turned the small canvas painting to the back and written at the bottom so light I barely saw it was the words… Rome’s Blessing.

  And that was it… The dam burst.

  I wanted to throw the beautiful painting away from me, but ended up clutching it to my chest as I wept for all the things possible that I will never experience because I was damaged…

  Like love…

  How did I ever think a man would love me when my own parents couldn’t stand the sight of me?

  Why had God been so cruel to deny me love?

  Everybody needs love, right?

  I mean…didn’t everybody want to be loved?

  A reason, a season, and a day… words I’ll never forget.

  Chapter 17

  Civilian Life…

  Nakhti

  2 Months Later…

  Let me tell you guys something, civilian life sucks!

  “Put your hand on my breasts again and I will slit your throat, pig!” I hissed in Portuguese to the cop that was guiding me out of the cell I’d spent the last three days in.

  “Too bad your bail was posted. I was looking forward to having some more fun with you and those beautiful boobies of yours.”

  He had no clue he was a dead man for the fun he decided to have with me. As God is my witness, I was coming back for this pig and I was going to slit his throat.

  I jerked my arm from him when he reached up under the pretense of grabbing it to grab my breasts for the hundredth time since I’d been thrown into this cesspool of a jail.

  Nossa! Never thought I’d miss the jails in the U.S. These cops in Brazil got away with murder. This pig that was leading me out had made me lift my shirt and show him my breasts for everything, to go to the bathroom, to get food and water…

  If I didn’t think it would have put me on the radar, I would have slit his throat days ago. However, now that I’m free, breast man’s days were limited.

  I was so angry it took a minute for his words to register…I was free…

  Someone had posted my bail?

  What the hell? How can that be when no one knew I was here?

  I knew it wasn’t my mother, she didn’t even know who I was these da—

  Huh?

  What was that?

  You guys are wondering how I ended up in jail?

  First, let me start by saying that it wasn’t my fault. I’ve been on my absolute best behavior since I came back to Brazil.

  I’ve been working on my place, preparing the farmhouse to be able to house a few horses. I even hired me two helpers that came during the day to lend a hand.

  I’d found a way to give back. When we were done working at the farm for the day, Giant and I went to the nursing home to help the nuns with my mom and the other patients.

  And guess what. It hasn’t been that bad. The days that the nurses called my mom’s bad days have actually turned out to be good days… at least for me and my mom. On her bad days, she forgets who I am and is actually very kind to me.

  I greedily suck those times up because she has never been kind to me. There were times when I was younger that she would smile at me and tell me I was pretty, but even during those times, there was resentment in her eyes.

  When she forgets who I am, she allows me to comb her hair and feed her apple sauce. Sometimes she even tells me about the times she was so beautiful men would follow behind her like puppies… Her words.

  But then her memory would filter back and she would instantly clinch up and refuse to look at me or talk to me. And each time that happened, no matter what I told myself, it hurt like hell.

  When she’d get in those moods I’d go and help out with the other patients, like Mr. Olivera, the little old man in the room next to hers. He was always kind to me and had asked me to read to him. When I asked what it was he wanted me to read, he handed me a little black Bible written in Portuguese.

  And thus began my journey. Because he’d already read it several times, I decided to start from the beginning…The book of Genesis.

  After our first session, he told me I could keep the Bible. He said it will keep me safe just like it kept him and his mom before him. Now that he’d reached the end of his journey, he didn’t want it to end up in someone’s hands that will not understand its value. The only thing he requested was that I bring it to him to read to him when I came and visited.

  I loved it!

  Outside of my superhero bat, it was the best gift I had ever been given. It was the perfect size to slide down into my cargo pants pocket. I took it with me everywhere I went. And yeah, I began to feel as if it kept me safe.

  I don’t believe in coincidences. I knew for sure that it was a reason I ended up with this book and I don’t care how long it took me, I was going to read it from the beginning to the end. Like Ro—

  No!

  We didn’t think of him…

  I’d finally began to feel like I can move on and that I didn’t make the biggest mistake of my life walking away from my thug. I will not be thinking about him so that my doubts can resurface. It was bad enough he and his freaky ways invaded my dreams at night. Several times I had to get out of bed and take a cold shower because my skin felt like it was on fire, needing to feel him filling me again.

  Anyway, …that's not what we are talking about, you guys wanted to know how I ended up in jail for three days.

  Everything was going well, I was very proud of the way my life was headed.

  But then something happened. A restlessness came over me that frightened me. It had been a long time since I’d killed anyone and I was beginning to feel ill. Not ill as in a sore throat or upset stomach, but ill as in mentally.

  I began to feel depleted…

  So I decided to go to the bar Friday night to blow off a little steam. I may have had a bit much to drink…a bar fight may have kicked off…

  And I may or may not have been the reason it happened.

  The only thing I remembered was a pool game, a bet that didn’t get paid…and me cracking someone across the head with the pool stick before all hell broke loose.

  The next thing I know, I’m waking up in Ribeirão da Ilha little dinky jail with a perverted freak demanding to see my breasts so that I could relieve my bladder, which at the time felt like it was going to burst. He’d made the mistake of touching my breasts the first time while I wasn’t handcuffed and almost got his hand broken for it. I had to constantly remind myself that
I had to remain low-key.

  Killing a police officer at a police station would surely put me on every radar in Brazil. And if Rome was still looking for me, which I doubt very seriously, he would surely find me that way.

  However, when I rounded the corner to see who’d bailed me out my thoughts quieted as a very uneasy feeling settled over me.

  “Sister Sousa? What are you doing here?”

  Seeing the head nurse from my mom’s nursing home standing in the jail’s booking room cannot be good.

  “I have bad news, sweetheart.” She spoke confirming my thoughts. My gaze lowered to her hand that she used to clench her skirt so hard her knuckles had turned white.

  Nossa! Please don’t rock my world, sister.

  “Your mama died last night in her sleep.”

  I sat in the chair nearest to me as I studied her face. Was she serious? Sister Sousa wouldn’t joke about anything like that.

  No, she wouldn’t…

  I put my hand on my chest as pain shot through it leaving me confused. I didn’t understand the hurt that I felt. Didn’t I know my mother was going to die?

  Sister Sousa rushed toward me and began to rub my back. I looked up at her with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes…shaking my head, trying to tell her she didn’t have to comfort me, because I was alright.

  Only…

  When I tried to push her arms away, I ended up clutching them instead.

  I was alright…

  There was no love lost between me and my mom…

  Only…

  There was a lot of pressure in my chest and I didn’t know why.

  The perverted jailer came from the back with my things and all I saw was red. Needing to lash out I jumped up from my chair to kill…

  But as if she had some kind of radar the sister slid between us reaching for my things…

  “Muito obrigado, ofical…” She said thanking the bastard as she took my items from him. For just a moment when he looked at me, there was real fear in his eyes.

  I wanted him to be afraid…I wanted him to understand that although the sister had just saved his life, he was a dead man walking. I was going to kill him.