“No. I want him to explain why you had to carry him home in the middle of the fucking night and why he’s been beaten to a pulp. I want him to grow up and for once in his life...”
“Really? You want me to grow up?” Max shouted, dropping the make shift ice pack onto the floor. He fixed his gaze on his sister with a surprisingly sober stare.
“Yes!”
“Guys! Shut up, both of you!” Beppe shouted over them and they did. Gia gave him a killing glare and stomped to the kitchen.
“Put the bag back on your face, dumbass,” he barked at Max before he followed her.
When he walked in, Gia had switched on the coffee machine and was staring blindly as dark liquid filled the carafe.
“Yelling at him is not gonna help. You know that,” said Beppe softly, leaning against the counter next to her.
“Then what am I supposed to do, Beppe? I’ve tried everything. My only other option is telling mum but I don’t see how that will help, since for one she’s never here, and two she doesn’t have the strength to deal with this. She’s barely functioning as it is.” Gia unlocked her eyes from the coffee pot and turned to face Beppe. “One day you’re not going to be there to save his ass.” Her eyes filled with tears, imagining her little brother beaten, left to rot in a ditch, drinking himself to death, or overdosing on some illegal drug.
“I’ll talk to him,” Beppe sighed and pulled her in his arms. Gia returned his embrace, releasing a sob as she clutched him tighter. “Hey. I’m not giving up on him.” Beppe pushed her head away from his shoulder and looked into her watery eyes, brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “I promise.” Gia nodded and pulling herself together, turned away to pour coffee into two mugs.
“Do I even want to know what happened tonight?” she asked without turning to face him.
“No.”
Gia nodded, handed Beppe one of the coffee mugs and stalked upstairs to her room without a second glance at her brother, who was already snoring softly on the sofa.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gia finished her first year at the ICA at the top of her class. Her teachers were so impressed with her dedication and talent they made a point to personally congratulate her. She was amazed when Alfredo Simone, one of the best chefs in the country, author of numerous culinary books and honorary tutor at ICA, not only knew her name, but invited her out for coffee and spoke to her as an equal. He gave her lots of helpful advice on her future career and told her to feel free to get in touch with him should she need anything.
The offer of a summer internship in the most luxurious restaurant in Genoa came as no surprise. Gia could scarcely contain her excitement as she set foot in ‘Il Scapolo’ for the first time. This right here was what everything was about. She couldn't wait to see how such an establishment worked behind the scenes. Gia had always known she had a talent for cooking – her dad had been an amazing chef and had passed his love of good food to both his children – but she was also interested in the business side of running a restaurant. Managing the organized chaos of prepping, cooking, serving, ordering supplies and crunching the numbers as well as keeping customers and staff happy, fascinated her. She couldn’t wait to be thrown in the deep end and prove to everyone that she could swim on her own.
******
“What the fuck is that?” Beppe’s dad roared when he burst through the unlocked bathroom door without knocking. Beppe continued to calmly shave, not even flinching. “I asked you a question!” Marco yelled, standing behind Beppe and fixing his red, cruel eyes on him in the mirror.
“It’s a tattoo.” Beppe answered calmly, gliding the razor along his cheek.
“I can see it’s a tattoo you little shit! Don’t try to be smart, you know very well you’re not.” Beppe glanced at his father in the mirror, but didn’t reply. He rinsed the razor with the running water before bringing it back to his face. A week ago he’d had a tattoo done on the back of his right shoulder. It was a roaring dragon done in simple black strokes. He’d seen it on the window of the tattoo parlor and had immediately been drawn to it. Two hours later he had it immortalized on his body.
“Look at me when I talk to you!” Marco thundered as he and grabbed Beppe by the arm, spinning him around to face him. Marco backhanded his son and blood immediately pooled at the corner of Beppe’s mouth. “I always knew you’d turn out to be trash. You're just like your mother,” he snarled in his face. Beppe didn’t move to protect himself as his dad struck him again and he was thrown to the floor. He only just managed to cushion the fall with his hands and avoid smacking his forehead against the tiles.
Beppe looked up to see his father opening and closing cabinet doors furiously, obviously looking for something. Panic blew through Beppe’s mind as he awaited what would happen next. He was paralyzed with fear. Was Marco looking for something sharp to stab him with? Or something heavy to hit him with? Was this going to be the day when his father finally took things too far?
“I’ll get this trash stamp out even if I have to peel the skin away, d’you hear me?” Marco screamed wildly as he jammed his knee between Beppe’s shoulder blades forcing him flat. He splashed thick bleach over the tattoo and started scrubbing violently with a cleaning brush. Beppe felt the skin on his shoulder blister and burn. Anger welled up inside him.
He’d never hit his father back, even now that they were almost of equal height. He’d always accepted the beatings and the humiliation as a part of his life – he’d never known anything else. But today, feeling the burn of the bleach as it ate away the skin on his shoulder, his dad destroying the first symbol of strength, the first act of rebellion Beppe had ever allowed himself, something inside of him snapped . He had the sudden overwhelming urge to fight.
Using the full strength of his arms to force himself up, Beppe managed to throw Marco off his back. Marco landed a couple feet away on his ass. As Beppe tried to stand up he saw the confusion in his father’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by rage. Marco jumped up from the floor and caught Beppe by the throat in a painful grip, shoving him against the bath screen and trapping him there. The man was tall and strong, and Beppe didn’t have a chance in Hell of fighting him off from that vulnerable position.
“You gonna fight me, boy? You think you can ever win this fight?” The deranged look in Marco’s eyes was even more frightening than the fingers biting into Beppe’s throat. Marco was slowly cutting off his air supply and Beppe could do nothing about it. Spots were starting to cloud his vision and he was becoming light headed. Gathering what strength he had left, Beppe kicked his dad in the shin. The grip on his throat loosened just enough to allow Beppe to quickly gather a breath.
“Fuck!” Marco yelled and his anger exploded. He pulled back and roared, lunging at his son with such force that Beppe flew right through the glass screen at the edge of the bath. It shattered into thousands of razor-like pieces. Beppe landed in the tub covered in blood and glass.
Nobody moved for a few moments. Marco looked stunned, probably amazed at his own strength than anything else, and Beppe didn’t dare move in case it provoked another attack.
Marco appeared to shake himself as he fixed a parting look of loathing upon his son.
“See what you made me do? Who’s gonna fix this now, huh? If you think I’m paying to fix your mess you’re very mistaken.” Marco then turned and stalked out of the bathroom without a second glance.
Beppe waited a few seconds before attempting to get up. His whole body was humming in agony, but it was a miracle he hadn’t hit his head. His back had taken the full force of the attack and was full of glass, he could feel it. He managed to get out of the tub and walk gingerly to the mirror.
There was blood caking on his lips, but the most damage was to his back and arms. He turned slightly, wincing in pain to see his shoulder which was red, scrubbed pretty badly, and lightly blistered, but he didn’t think the skin was actually peeled away. The dragon wasn’t completely ruined. When the skin healed, he’d go back to the parlor to get i
t fixed. That dragon would stay on his shoulder even if it was the last thing he did.
Shaking some of the glass from his body and his hair, Beppe walked out of the bathroom to his room. He pulled on a pair of sweats and a very loose t-shirt. Then he grabbed his phone.
******
It had been two months since Gia had started the internship with ‘Il Scapolo’ and she was loving every minute of it, even if she was nothing more than free labour. She was doing all the shit jobs that nobody else wanted to do – stack the dishwasher, peel the potatoes, chop the onions, load the washers and dryers with dirty linen and help with the organization of food deliveries.
She never complained, always accepted even the most tedious of tasks with a smile. She was one of the first people there in the morning and one of the last to leave at night.
Soon, the manager Angelo Sonori, took notice of her dedication and promoted her to working only in the kitchen, helping the chefs. “Keep up the good work”, he’d said, “and you’ll have a job here after you graduate.” Gia was ecstatic.
She was just taking out the trash when her pocket buzzed. Gia dropped the black bag in the huge bin and fished out her phone. Beppe’s name flashed on the screen. Her finger froze on the green button. He never called her at work, he knew how busy she was. Something was wrong.
She connected the call and spoke.
“Hey, Beppe. Everything OK?”
“No. I need you to come and pick me up.”
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
His voice was trembling and he barely managed to get the words out. Gia’s chest constricted with fear. She began shaking, but she did not ask for details.
“Go to my house and wait there. I’ll come as soon as I can.”
“Hurry.”
She disconnected the call and leaned against the nearest wall. Her legs were threatening to give out from under her, but she needed to pull herself together. Beppe needed her, something horrible had happened. She could hear it in his voice. She just knew his dad was involved somehow. He always was.
Gia had begged Beppe to move in with her more times then she could count. She was so sick and tired of watching him get physically and emotionally abused, she had pleaded and yelled and cried, but he always refused. At least he’d accepted a key to her house so that he could go there when he needed to escape for a while.
Gia quickly returned inside to search for her boss. Angelo Sonori had just come through the front door when Gia caught up with him. She must have looked quite frantic because he let her go and told her take the rest of the day off without requiring too much explanation from her.
Once outside, she hailed a taxi and jumped in, barking her address at the driver.
The fifteen minutes it took to get to her house lasted an age and Gia couldn't stop the horrific memories flooding into her brain, making her shake with anger, desperation and helplessness.
******
The rhythmic tap on the window startled Gia. She knew it was Beppe without looking. But she’d been so absorbed in her homework that she hadn’t heard him climbing up as she usually did. Sighing, she stood up from her desk and went to open the window.
Beppe swung his legs hastily over the frame and hopped inside.
“Oh my God!” Gia’s hand flew to her mouth instinctively as she looked him over. Beppe’s right eye was swollen shut, his lower lip was split and there were tiny drops of blood on his t-shirt. “What the hell happened?” she asked as she took hold of herself. The last thing Beppe needed right now was her freaking out and judging him.
“He found out about the weed. I don’t know how. Maybe he smelled it on my clothes. Who the fuck cares.” Beppe moved around Gia and flopped on her bed.
“What’s going on?” Max burst through the door without knocking, having heard Gia’s shrieks. Thank God their parents were not home right now or this whole thing would have turned ugly very fast.
Max saw Beppe on the bed, his eyes widening as he took in the mess that was his friend’s face.
“What happened to you, man?” Max moved to sit next to him on Gia’s bed.
“Dad.” Beppe closed his eyes and covered them with his arm.
“I told you smoking the weed was a really bad idea, Gia. Look what happened!” They had smoked a blunt the day before, curious to find out how it would feel to get high.
Stupidest idea ever.
“We need to call the police.” Gia ignored Max’s accusation – she already felt guilty enough. She was the one who had scored the joint and came up with the bright idea to smoke it.
Beppe’s busted face was all her fault.
“No.” Beppe said, so quietly that Gia wasn’t even sure he actually spoke.
“Beppe...” she began, sitting on his other side and glancing nervously at Max. They were the only ones who knew what Beppe’s father was capable of. Until now, Marco had always been careful not to hit him on the face. The respected accountant didn’t want any rumors circling that might ruin his perfect family man reputation.
“I said no, Gia. Drop it. I smoked the weed. Dad punished me for it. That's how it works.”
“No, that's not how it works, Beppe, and you know it. Why are you finding excuses for him? You’re not stupid enough to think the way he’s treating you and your mum is right.”
“He’s my dad. Mum and I don’t have anybody else.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re his property and he can beat the crap out of you every chance he gets!” Max interjected as he jumped from the bed and ran his hands through his hair, resting them on the back of his neck.
Gia looked at Beppe, concern written all over her face. What could she do to help him? God knew they’d hidden him from his father’s wrath countless times. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.
Just as she was about to say something to support Max’s argument that this madness had to stop, she saw a single tear slip from Beppe’s swollen eye. Gia looked at her brother and shook her head. Max sighed, ran his hands over his face in frustration, but didn’t argue. He turned and left, slamming the door behind him. For a moment Gia wondered if Max would do something stupid or reckless, but thought better of it. He’d always been impulsive but he also loved Beppe like a brother and knew that confronting his father wouldn’t help.
“You can stay here over the weekend. Mum and Dad are away celebrating their wedding anniversary. They won’t be back until Sunday evening. Technically I’m in charge of the house. So, stay here.”
Beppe removed his arm from his face and gazed at Gia, the sight of his one good eye filled with sadness and despair was breaking her heart.
It wasn’t the first time he’d be staying in her or Max’s room for the night, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but he seemed to be surprised by the offer every single time. Nodding, Beppe stood up to take off his shoes and dirty clothes. He then scooted back on the bed, curling around himself and closed his eyes.
As Gia covered him with a soft blanket, her eyes touched on the already faded scars on his back. She then turned the light off and quietly left the room.
******
The taxi jerked to a stop in front of Gia’s house, the sudden halt of movement shaking her from her thoughts. Realising she’d been crying, Gia wiped her tears hastily with the back of her hands, paid the driver and shot out of the car. She flew through the front door to find Beppe perched on a footstool, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed down between his hands. Gia paused, and then slowly walked to him and knelt down in front of him.
“What happened?”
He raised his head to look at her and she gasped when she saw his split lip. Gia reached out to hug him but he flinched away.
“Don’t. My back is a mess. I need to go to the hospital, but I’m underage. I need an adult with me.”
No matter how bad his injuries had been before, Beppe had never asked to go to the hospital. She and Max had managed to force him into going a couple of times when it had been particularly bad,
but he had never actually volunteered.
“Come on, let’s go.” Gia took his hand and helped him up. He winced as he moved but didn’t complain.
They managed to remove all the shards from his back and arms using only a local anesthetic.
It was a miracle Beppe hadn’t sustained worse injuries, considering the force of the impact. While the doctor tended to him, Gia filled all the forms. Thank God she was nineteen, or they would have had a much bigger problem on their hands trying to find someone to come with them and explain Beppe’s injuries.
He was released three hours later, glass-free, pumped full of antibiotics and pain killers. Gia took him to her house, cooked them both dinner and refused to let him go back home. She helped clean him up without disturbing the bandages too much and then tucked him in her bed.
“Where are you going?” Beppe asked when Gia covered him with a soft blanket and turned to leave.
“I'm going to sleep in mum’s room.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t want to bother you during the night. You need rest and your back hurts, I don’t wanna accidentally hurt you...”
“Stop. You’re not gonna hurt me. The bed’s big enough. Just come over here.”
She looked at him, hesitating. It wasn’t just that she didn’t want to disturb him. She felt the need to cry and scream and throw stuff, but didn’t want to break down in front of him.
“Gia, please. I need you to stay.”
Slowly she nodded and walked over to her wardrobe to get some fresh clothes.
“OK. I just need to take a shower.”
Walking into her en-suite bathroom, Gia closed the door firmly behind her and turned the shower on, hoping the sound of the water would drown her sobs.
Then, Now, Forever (Heartbeat #2) Page 3