Farewell, My Loves

by Jen Tirone

  I tried to imagine what being his wife would be like for so long, I had daydreamed mundane scenarios of keeping home, baking him bread, preparing his panini lunches for work, that now I didn’t have a clue what my place was here.

  I had to contribute more to our marriage than ‘looking pretty,’ whatever that meant.

  Sure, I’m his wife, but without cooking or cleaning, was I here to simply parade on his arm when he needed the accompaniment?

  We finished a light dinner on the rooftop terrace of the penthouse with a city view to be rivaled, while the maid collected our dishes.

  To say I found it all weird would be an understatement.

  I don’t know how I’d get used to this particular change, but I’ll see to it that I don’t let my unease show. The least I can do is be appreciative of all the effort Giorgio’s taken to make me comfortable; I wouldn’t want to offend him.

  “You think you’re up for a night out in New York, bella?”

  “Assolutamente!” I assured him.

  “Just tell me what I should wear for where we’re going. I’ll get my suitcase so you can see what I have,” I stood excitedly to make my way there.

  “No need, tesorina. I bought a few things I think might fit you before I sailed for Italy, in the case I had to drag you back here caveman-style,” he teased with a wink.

  But it wasn’t a few things.

  Filled to the brim in a closet the size of my living room back home, was what I think were the entire contents of a department store.

  I was intimidated to try anything on it all looked so expensive.

  I went with a black satin boat neck dress, I felt might have been a little too tight for my curvy body, though Gio assured me it looked just right on me.

  My hips were too exposed without a petticoat underneath and the dress formed tightly on my whole figure.

  But he said he loved it, his wife looking ‘all woman,’ making me wonder exactly what he meant by it.

  He handed me a small pair of black-laced gloves and a pair of black patent leather stilts that had a strap around the ankle, so I’d be supported until I learned to walk in them more comfortably.

  It was reminiscent of the training wheels on the bike he gave me once upon a time.

  I didn’t think my go-to braid would fit the style he wanted me to achieve, and I noticed many women with short hair when we made land early this morning, so I decided on a low bun because without Gabi to help make those elegant waves in my hair I was hopeless.

  “I don’t have any makeup, Gio. I didn’t think to ask my sister to help me pack any before we left,” I solemnly expressed, feeling the pressure to look up to par with him here.

  “No need, bella. You’re stunning without it,” he said as he lifted my chin up for a soft kiss as he ran his hand up my leg, stopping at the strap of the garter belt I wore.

  “These are gonna drive me insane tonight.”

  The women here are so beautiful it baffles me that he went back home for me.

  They were all glamorous and unflappable.

  Giorgio didn’t miss a step or pay any attention to the way it seemed as if everyone knew him, knew of him or wanted to know him.

  The women, especially.

  I felt unmatched and in over my head with the attention he received from them.

  I was beginning to feel like people were going to bow down for him; I know he exuded that high-powered presence, but everyone around us was trampling over themselves to be more than hospitable.

  When you stand at six-foot, four-inches you’ll garner attention anywhere.

  But he radiated a not-to-be-messed-with aura on top of it.

  Even I’ve been apprehensive at times with him.

  But tonight he’s the king he told me I supposedly had a hand in making him become, and it felt reassuring he didn’t let go of me, not for a single second.

  As always since I’ve gotten to know the adult Gio, he’s donning a classy three-piece suit in black tonight with a white dress shirt, matching black tie and a black satin fedora, completing the swagger he’s always got going on.

  I know I’ll be bowing down to him tonight once we’re back home, alone.

  Poised at the arm of the King of Club Roma, I should have felt like a hot shot myself, but I couldn’t speak the language and was afraid of making a fool of myself.

  I wouldn’t dare embarrass him, so I didn’t talk to anyone.

  He strolled right in and sat us at a cozy booth on the side of the club’s stage where we could enjoy the live music playing.

  A waiter stopped by and Gio gave him our order.

  He lit my cigarette as we waited for our drinks to arrive.

  The smooth voice crooning to the club was familiar.

  “Giorgio, isn’t that song Italian?” I asked.

  He smiles at me and leans in to give me a soft kiss.

  “I hired him to come and sing it for you tonight.”

  “You’re kidding! How did they let you do that?”

  “Because we own the place” he shrugs like it’s no big deal.

  “You own this club?” I ask incredulously.

  “Yeah, bella. This and a few other businesses. Matti should be joining us soon, after he finishes up some work in the office,” he said, changing the subject.

  “Oh, how wonderful, Gio! I’ve missed him and Nico, and your mama all these years. It will be so nice to see everyone.”

  “They’re all looking forward to seeing la bambina, too,” he ribs. ”We’ll have dinner with them tomorrow. My father, especially, is curious to see you again.”

  Domenico spent the least time in my life, going away when I was three. I didn’t take that in any negative way.

  “Why is most of this Italian song in English?” I asked him.

  “Because Sinatra said he didn’t know it all in Italian and it was too short notice once we could get hold of him. We made a compromise. Plus the patrons of the club could enjoy it this way, too. But you know the whole song, right?”

  “Sinatra? Frank Sinatra! And of course, I know Volare! It’s such a lovely song. Feels fitting with my move here and all. I feel like I’ve been swept away, Giorgio,” I tell him shyly.

  “In a good way?” he asks with a smile, because he knows the answer.

  Smiling back I tell him, “In the best way, amore.”

  Dinner with my in-laws the first few times were... a little hard to describe in nice terms.

  Their house, or mansion to put it more accurately, put the opulence in our penthouse to shame.

  Chiara was just as pretty, but more dazzling than I could ever recall.

  Nico and Matti grew up to be good-looking men just as Giorgio did. Though, I may have been biased, thinking my husband got the best of all the Moretti genes.

  Giorgio took after Domenico most; tall like his father and the man was still handsome in age.

  All the Moretti men were something to notice.

  Nico and I were nine years apart, Matti and I, seven. With all the time that passed in between, we were nearly strangers, though Matti and I had reacquainted the night before at Roma. He was still as friendly as I remembered, only he was matured now too.

  Nico was married to an American blonde named Kacey, with no round belly in sight.

  Matti was still a bachelor to Chiara’s outspoken dismay.

  What I never recalled about my now mother-in-law, was how intrusive she was.

  I think since I was a child then, I hadn’t paid attention because of Gio and our adventures, but wow, she sure did like to meddle.

  Anytime Giorgio left the room the floodgates were opened.

  “Gianna, bambina, I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have you here. It’s so nice to see my son finally settled down. I never liked the idea of my boys, any of them, being out with those floozies. But I especially didn’t like it for my Gio.

  “I worried he was going to be single forever, hung up on the idea of his sweetheart back home, never making me a nonna becaus
e he was never going back to Italia, yet he wouldn’t marry anyone I picked out for him either!

  “But look at you here! In our home, with our family again! And you’ve grown up quite lovely, I’ll say. Just don’t let your waist get any wider! Are you dieting? You’ve got to keep a firm figure! You’re still young, but it explodes in the blink of an eye!” She takes a gulp of her wine and continues without a hitch.

  “Gio’s got that fine Italian taste, never settling with any of the women here. He’s the only one with sense, I tell you, keeping the Italian bloodline strong, unlike Nico, not even marrying a half Italian, for goodness sake!

  “Oh, but you two are going to make the most beautiful babies! Please don’t wait another minute. By all means, go home and get started!” she laughs at her own... jokes?

  Was that what it was?

  Because I couldn’t find it in me to really feel the ‘open arms’ reception I think she was trying to convey.

  She was nothing like the humble woman who had been like another mother to me, my mother’s best friend, the Chiara I grew up with.

  It was a shame how their success changed her.

  Domenico looked like he hadn’t even heard a word she said reading into his newspaper like no one else was there. He didn’t appear that curious either, only speaking to announce when he wanted to speak to his sons in his den, and that happened quite frequently.

  Nico was talking to his wife in English, thank goodness—she didn’t understand Chiara. I thought it was rude of our mother-in-law to insinuate Kacey being an American was a step below for him.

  We were all here, in America, weren’t we?

  Being American is what they all wanted, right?

  I excused myself from the table to go the restroom, and I couldn’t help thinking about the women Gio didn’t settle on before me, feeling a tightness in my stomach.

  It wouldn’t do me any good to torture myself, I knew that.

  I could tell he was experienced the second I saw him, and most especially on our wedding night.

  I just didn’t like it being rubbed in my face.

  It would take me some time to get used to them, if that’s what you can call pretending none of the things my mother-in-law said bothered me, or lack of interest from my father-in-law concerning.

  Just as Gio had changed over the years, I had to acclimate to their changes, too.

  During another gathering a few weeks later, I had to excuse myself from the table with the pretense of needing to go to the restroom for some space again.

  Whenever I was with them, I felt lost not just in their large house, but a little in my heart, too.

  Somehow I made my way into a hallway full of family portraits.

  After a few minutes Gio found me and I was glad for his presence.

  He took me right into his arms as kissed my temple as he hugged me from behind.

  “I’d love to have a family portrait done when we have a baby,” I tell him.

  “Who said we have to wait until then, bella?”

  “Well, we’d be missing the baby in our family photo,” I laugh, knowing he couldn’t miss the elements that make up a family.

  He turns me around to face him. “Gianna, you’re my family—with or without a baby. Don’t think I hadn’t noticed how down you’ve been these last few days because you’re menstruating—”

  “Gio!” I cut him off, embarrassed he would candidly talk about my period.

  “No, listen to me, tesorina. None of that bothers me. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Don’t doubt you’re all I ever need, okay?”

  “Okay, amore,” I nodded, surprised he knew what was bothering me aside from the ramblings of his mother.

  I was going to have to build a tough skin to endure her for the rest of my life.

  “I’ll schedule a photographer to come by this weekend, va bene?”

  “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

  “You should go shopping with my mother for a new dress. She would love to take you out,” he innocently offered.

  Because he didn’t know the lunches alone with her or with the vapid women she called friends was worse than the family dinners.

  I made a huge mistake ordering a burger with fries the first time I dined out alone with her.

  I was still too embarrassed to speak in the little English I knew, so I pointed at the burger on the menu; otherwise, I think if Chiara would have heard me say my choice out loud, she would have changed it for me.

  “Bambina! You ordered that? We just got you a dress for your photo session, and we’ll have to exchange it for the next size up if you keep eating like that!”

  My ‘favorite’ time with her was when she was amongst her friends.

  Then she was a real treat to be around.

  “Gianna, Jane here has a doctor that can prescribe you pills to help you lose the weight you’ve been gaining. Unless you’re pregnant and you haven’t told me yet!” she laughs, downing her glass of wine.

  Even though I’ve lost weight since I got here, all I experience is her scrutiny.

  Oh, and I can’t forget to mention how ‘wonderful’ it was when she tried to help me make “friends.”

  “Gianna, this is Roxy. You could be friends, you two have my son in common.”

  Let’s just say, I’ve taken up drinking copious amounts of wine to endure her presence, and she was present, a lot.

  It had been a spectacular first year being married to Gio.

  Broadway shows, live music, cocktails at the finest clubs, exquisite dinners at the best restaurants. I loved sleeping in late with him on the weekends, reading novels all day, sightseeing together, and it didn’t hurt being catered to my every want or need.

  Giorgio has truly given me the life of a queen here.

  No wonder Domenico packed up his family as soon as he could all those years ago. I’d do anything to bring Mama and Babbo over too, but no matter how many times we invited them, they wouldn’t budge. My parents were very humble but stubborn people. They wouldn’t leave Italia even if it were crumbling. Those were very frustrating letters and phone calls, to say the least.

  And with Gio working more and more and sometimes later and later, I didn’t see when we’d be going back there anytime soon.

  After a gorgeous day in the city one evening, we decided to end the day at the theater. Excited to see Some Like it Hot featuring the beautiful Marilyn Monroe would be an understatement, but we had to make a quick stop first.

  “It’ll only be a second. Stay in the car, you hear?” Giorgio asks, but doesn’t really wait for my answer when he closes the door.

  “Don’t take long!” I may have answered while I was completely engrossed in the latest issue of LIFE magazine; I couldn’t be bothered to look up.

  Articles of the moon landing and NASA space exploration was just so fascinating to me. That was one of my favorite American prides.

  Back home, humble living was the norm. But here, big thinking led to big ideas, and big achievements.

  Man on the moon for me was just out of this world incredible! I may not be able to speak the language yet, but I could read a lot of it and understand the gist of it now.

  Plus, I loved asking Gio to translate for me and hear him switch from Italian to English with such ease. Then he’d start translating for me things I hadn’t asked, things I would be embarrassed to even say, and that led to other things I loved.

  Riveted to the very last page, it felt like I blinked for the first time in over an hour, looking up I see it’s dark outside.

  I decide to step out and stretch my legs some, when our driver Marco gives his two cents.

  “Signora Moretti, I think it’s best you step back inside the car,” he tells me in Italian.

  “I just want to stretch a bit,” I tell him hoping he leaves me be.

  “We wouldn’t want to upset Signore Moretti now, would we?” he asks with a pointed look that annoys the hell out of me.

  So now I’m going to take my time getting bac
k into the car.

  After a few minutes, he relents and stops watching my every stretch.

  Why it’s such a problem to be out of the car beats me. But as each minute ticks by, I’m growing more and more curious over what has held Giorgio up for so long.

  Glancing at my Cartier watch, I see we’ve missed the previews already. Damn, it’ll be another two hours before the next showing and it was already getting late.

  Could he actually have forgotten I was in the car waiting?

  Sure, he’s been terribly busy lately.

  And the late nights can only be causing him stress.

  I decide I’ll go ahead and pop into the building and pull him away from work. At the rate he’s going, he’s going to run himself into the ground working so much.

  I’m still not entirely used to wearing the heels Giorgio bought me, so I slip them off and decide I’ll put them back on once I get inside.

  I take a few steps away from the car to see if Marco’s going to say anything or even follow, but when he doesn’t, I go ahead and make my way over to the building quickly.

  It’s eerily quiet inside and my bare feet on the ground don’t make a single sound. I realize I have no idea where to go, having assumed there was an office or something, but all I find are crates and pallets piled high all over the place.

  I hear some voices off to the back and make my way through the maze of goods toward them.

  The closer I get, I hear someone in distress and immediately I’m worried maybe an employee was injured on the job and that could be why Giorgio’s been inside for so long.

  Nervous about what I might encounter, I start tiptoeing to the source when a circle of men come into view.

  Their relaxed postures put me at ease... until I see a man bloodied from head to toe on a chair in the center of the circle.

  Sitting right across from him is Giorgio with a bored expression on his face.

  I’m utterly confused of the scene before my eyes, I don’t know what to make of it.

  Are they not worried for this man’s health?

  How can they be so calm right now?

  Someone approaches Gio and says something in his ear.

  Gio then turns his attention to a man standing close to the injured man and signals him with a wave of the wand.