No Love Lost - Chapter Five (Part One)
Jan. 8th, 2017 09:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yakumtsaki
I will buy us an acre,
of some land in the city.
The day Isabella was dreading had arrived. She had barely managed to sleep; the empty side of the bed seemed to take up more space every night. These past few nights she kept thinking of how she could never share a bed when she was young, how she wanted it all to herself. And then she met Patrizio, and quickly found that she couldn't sleep without him. But now he was gone. She had the bed all to herself again.
She got ready very slowly, mechanically. She wasn't sure how much time had even passed since she got up. Had she put shoes on? Yes, she had, how could she forget? How could she not feel them? 'Oh, this is how it starts', she murmured.
Her mind ran to the friends of her youth, how they began to fade away as they got older, more and more, until there was nothing left of the people they once were. God knew she was tired, ready to give up, to fade away too. She had earned it, hadn't she, the luxury of giving up? It did seem tempting in that moment. Her thoughts were interrupted by her grandson knocking on the door while he was opening it, a habit she had long abandoned hope of getting him out of.
"Grandma?" Mercutio asked standing at the door. He looked much older than he was in that suit.
"Yes, darling?" she replied, trying to hide the hoarseness of her voice.
"Aunt Bianca just called, said she'll be here in twenty minutes. Uncle Antonio is meeting us at the cemetery."
"Alright, baby", she replied, quickly wiping away a tear stain from her cheek. "Is your brother ready?"
"Yeah, he's been up for hours. I don't think he slept at all."
Isabella was worried about Romeo; he was taking Patrizio's death especially hard. She suddenly realized what was different about Mercutio's appearance.
"Did you cut your hair?"
"Yeah, last night. It didn't feel right to show up at grandpa's funeral with a mohawk."
A faint smile formed on her lips for the first time in days.
"You didn't have to do that, darling, you know grandpa wouldn't care".
"No, I know, but I care."
Isabella felt a wave of love wash over her. No, she couldn't give up; she had to hold it together for as long as she possibly could. The boys needed her.
"Mom..", Bianca whispered as she hugged her, her voice breaking. It tore Isabella's heart out to see her daughter in pain. Her little girl, how much she loved her dad. She swore in that moment that she would do anything she could to ease her pain, to fill the void left by his loss. She wouldn't even say a bad word about Kent Capp again. If Bianca liked him it was fine by her.
The drive to the cemetery wasn't long but it felt like ages had passed in that car. She had lived in Veronaville for the better part of a century and yet the neighborhood looked so unfamiliar now, covered in snow. How long had it been since they last had snow? Seven, eight years?
"You hated the cold", she thought as she slowly made her way to the coffin. She pictured Patrizio waking up this morning, grumbling about the snow, saying how they should pack their things and leave for the Twikkiis. And then she would tell him to stop being ridiculous, it's just a little a snow and he'd get offended, and they'd bicker for a while. And then they'd go about their day, slightly annoyed with each other. What she wouldn't give to be slightly annoyed with him right now.
She wanted the funeral to be as private as possible: that meant family and the Summerdreams only. To her dismay, Kent and the Capp girls were also in attendance. She quickly convinced herself not to let their presence bother her, though. She would try to appreciate the show of support.
"On behalf of my family, I want to thank you all for being here". As soon as Isabella uttered those first words of the eulogy, the reality of the situation abruptly sank in; suddenly out of the fog she had been in those past few days, she felt her senses in complete alert. This was real. Patrizio was dead. He had died first and she would never see him again. She struggled to contain her tears as she continued speaking.
"Today we say goodbye to a beloved father, grandfather and friend, and I say goodbye person I've shared my life with for the past fifty years. As you all know, our life with Patrizio has not always been easy. Both coming from nothing, we faced many setbacks, been through incredibly difficult times", her voice broke at the memory, "most of all the loss of our son, daughter and grandchild." She paused for a moment to regain her composure. "Still, all those years, through everything, Patrizio and I always had each other."
"Knowing Patrizio, I doubt he would want me to share stories praising him or recount his many achievements. Everyone here, after all, knows the kind of person Pat was, how good, intelligent and loyal he was, always setting the best example for his children and grandchildren. With that in mind, I do have a story to share I think he would approve of.." a small smile formed on her lips.
"As hard as it may be for our grandkids to believe, before we were married, Patrizio and I lived somewhat on the wild side. We laughed a lot and fought a lot and in general did not make very good neighbors". A faint chuckle could be heard across the room. "Well, one night we had come back home at about four and had to be at work in a few hours. We soon realized we had no coffee to drink and started fighting, drunk as we were, about which one of us had forgotten to buy the coffee. After a while, one of our long-suffering neighbors called the police. The policeman arrived and chastised us about the noise, nothing too serious. But as he was about to leave, he muttered 'damn Italians'. Patrizio was so offended by that that he tried to attack him." The room was filled with surprirsed laughter.
"Thankfully, I managed to hold him back at the last minute, but we both ended up getting arrested and spending the night at the station. As we were sitting there waiting for my father to bail us out, Patrizio knocked on the wall separating us and called my name. Thinking he must be feeling regret for landing us in jail, I tell him 'Don't worry darling, we're going to be alright, this won't go on our record'. There's silence on the other end of the wall for a few moments and then he tells me 'I just wanted to say, I can't believe you still won't admit you forgot to buy the coffee'." She let out a small laugh, along with everyone else. "We never did manage to agree, in all our years, about whose turn it had been to go shopping that time."
Patrizio was buried in the family plot, next to Claudio. The burial was the hardest part for everyone. Standing where all their loved ones, some taken so soon from the world, had been laid to rest, made all the painful memories come rushing back.
"We're going to be alright, darling", Isabella tried to reassure her grandson. She could tell he was thinking about his parents.
"I can't believe he's really gone. They're all gone now".
"I'm not", she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. Her poor little boy. Maybe this Juliette business was a good thing after all, as long as it made him happy.
The funeral was finally over. Isabella couldn't wait to get home, take that damn dress off and crawl into bed. She was saying goodbye to Titania, thinking she was done with this awful day, when she saw Consort Capp walk towards her. How long had he even been here? The mere sight of him was enough to upset her. She had briefly considered the possibility of him attending -most decidedly uninvited- but didn't think he would have the nerve to actually show up.
"What the hell are you doing here, Capp?" Antonio growled as soon as the Summerdreams had left.
"Easy, Antonio" Isabella tried to calm him, seeing the Capp girls approach.
"Excuse us, Mrs. Monty", Hermia said, polite as always.
"It's fine, Hermia", Isabella replied.
"Grandpa, we're leaving. Should we wait for you?"
"No, you go ahead girls, I'll call a car".
"Alright, we'll see you at home. Again, our condolences, Mrs. Monty".
"Thank you, dear. Antonio, why don't you take the children home too, give us a moment". Antonio obliged, however begrudgingly.
When she was sure everyone was out of earshot, Isabella turned to him angrily.
"Not that I endorse my son's language, but what are you doing here, Consort?"
"I'm here to offer my condolences, Isabella. I'm very sorry for your loss", he replied, seemingly ignoring her aggressive tone. He looked nervous.
"Well", scoffed Isabella, "thank you for the sympathy, Consort, but I would have invited you to the funeral if I wanted it, which I most certainly did not".
"Please, Isabella, can't we be civil at a time like this? Wouldn't he want us to-"
"How dare you show your face here and lecture me about what my husband would have wanted?" she interrupted him, not able to contain her anger any longer.
"It was not my intention to offend you, Isabella, nor am I under the impression that I knew him better than you did-"
"But of course, because you're filled with good intentions, aren't you?" she spat at him. "We wouldn't even have gotten married if you've had it your way".
"My God, you still hate me because I took him from you a lifetime ago? It was you he ended up with, wasn't it?" he replied, and Isabella could detect the tiniest hint of sadness in his voice.
"Oh yes, it was, despite your best efforts to the contrary. What about who you ended up with, Consort? Or have you forgotten what you and your damn wife did to us just to keep up your sham of a marriage?"
"Do not even attempt to bring Contessa into this, she had nothing to do with what happened" he exclaimed, suddenly indignant. "And yes, it was a different time, so I did what I had to do to protect us. Like most necessary things, it wasn't pleasant, but I would do it again if I had to. Surely you can understand that, can't you? The need to protect one's family?"
"The need to protect one's family while destroying another? No, I cannot understand that, Consort, it's not as common an occurrence as you seem to believe".
"Oh, I destroyed you now, did I? Because from where I'm standing you seem to have done pretty well for yourselves".
"Get the hell out of my sight, Consort".
"Isabella, I'm sorry, I truly didn't come here to argue with you-"
She walked away from him before he could finish, her whole body trembling in anger. Why was that bastard still alive while her Patrizio was gone? The worst ones always live long.
A week after the funeral, she was still trying to get Patrizio's affairs in order. It was tedious and tiring but at least it was a reason to get out of bed in the morning. The boys had offered to help her, but most of what they did was cause more problems. Still, Isabella loved their company. They were good kids.
"Well, here we are, how do you like it?" she asked with a laugh as they pulled over at the storage unit.
"Oh, it's great, we should definitely move here", Mercutio replied.
"You might have to, Merc, the way your grades are going", Romeo quipped, very pleased with himself.
"Right, we can't all have Juliette whispering the test answers to us".
"She didn't whisper shit to me-"
"Language!" Isabella interjected. "Don't make me ground you both, grandpa is not here to save you anymore".
"Sorry, grandma", they replied in unison.
As soon as the garage door opened, Mercutio could not stop laughing.
"What the hell is this?"
"Dear God", Romeo sighed.
"It's your grandfather, finding a way to torture me even from the grave".
"This is useless, there's no way we're gonna find the papers here", Romeo protested.
"Well, we better try to, Romeo, unless you want to find out if the Capp girl likes you just for your money".
"Wow, grandma, brutal", Mercutio commented with a laugh.
"Those papers aren't even that important.." grumbled Romeo.
"Woah, check out grandma working it! I can't believe you settled for grandpa".
Isabella laughed. "Your grandfather was also very handsome back in the day-"
"Our grandfather apparently also liked to drink a lot. Should we try those, Rom?"
"Oh, you definitely should, and then I can send you both up to heaven to meet him".
"I can't believe he had the nerve to lecture us about our rooms while he's over here keeping this junk around, I mean an old car and a destroyed couch and a vacuum that hasn't worked for like thirty years!"
"Please, Romeo, I think it's obvious at this point that grandpa had a secret hoarding problem."
Isabella walked over to see what Romeo was talking about. She didn't recognize that couch at all. When had they bought that?
"That is so stupid, hoarders can't just hide it whenever they want-"
"They totally can, haven't you seen that show-"
"Yeah, I have and it just proves my point, if grandpa was a hoarder he would have crap lying around at home too-"
"No he wouldn't, if he wanted to hide it, he could like selectively let it manifest-"
"Selectively let it manifest, what the hell are you talking about? Grandma, please weigh in on Mercutio's idiotic grandpa-was-a-hoarder theory".
Isabella suddenly remembered that couch. She hadn't seen it for fifty years.
"That was the first thing we got when we moved in together", she said, more to herself than to her grandsons, who couldn't hear her anyway.
"You got it, Is?"
"Yes, for the hundredth time, I do! What kind of store brings it to your door but doesn't carry it up!?"
"The kind that lets you buy it half-price."
"Also the kind that forgets all your other furniture? That was an excellent choice, Patrizio, well done".
"They're going to bring them tomorrow!"
"And at this pace we will still be right here to welcome them."
"Well, the rain certainly isn't helping! Or maybe you blame me for that too?"
"Just move faster!"
"I can't believe we did it, darling".
"I love you".
"I was ready to leave you halfway through the stairs".
"Are you glad you didn't?"
"I am, I could never afford this place by myself".
"Maybe we should start unpacking, it's been two days, Pat".
"Well, we have the bare necessities".
"Wine isn't a bare necessity".
"Have you lost your damn mind, we cannot get a car right now!"
"I'm not saying we should get one right now, why do you always do this-"
"What do I always do, try to save us from financial ruin?"
"Oh, while I'm out there pissing money away, my God, Isabella, you are impossible!"
"I think it's kicking!"
"It isn't".
"But I can hear it!"
"Alright, darling".
"Do you want more pasta?"
"It actually might be the pasta you're hearing in there".
"Come on, Bianca!"
"Keep going, sweetheart!"
"I can't believe she's already walking and talking".
"I can, she's our daughter, isn't she?"
"My God, Romeo, why are you always such a dick?"
"Yeah, sorry for messing up your precious hair-"
"That's enough, both of you! We're leaving. I will just hire someone to deal with the papers".
"Nice going, genius, now you pissed off grandma".
"Your whining pissed her off".
"Stop shoving each other and get in the car!" she yelled, hiding the tears in her eyes.
The next day, after the boys were off to school, she began the arduous task of packing up Patrizio's office. The sheer amount of books, dossiers and documents in that room was enough to once again bring her face to face with the reality of her age. She had neither the strength nor the energy of a young woman anymore; after packing only a few boxes she felt completely exhausted.
"There should be another folder here, where the hell is it.." she murmured, getting up with great effort.
Searching the bookcase, she came across a worn, small book with no writing on its cover. It was carefully placed at the back of the shelf, hidden behind some thick volumes. A sudden feeling of dread came over her as she opened it.
It was an old poetry collection. On the first page, an inscription read: "To another year". No, no, this couldn't be. She felt like she had been stabbed in the chest. Something was tucked in the middle of the book. She ignored the voice in her head, screaming at her to close the damn thing.
And there it was. The undeniable, unbearable confirmation that the suspicions she had harbored through fifty years of marriage had been right. She looked at the photo for a while. How young and happy they both looked. What did her mother use to tell her? "Never go back to a man who leaves you". But she had, she had, and she got what she deserved for her stupidity.
"Well, this will certainly make mourning you easier", she thought, throwing the book on the ground. She had been crying about Patrizio Monty since she was 20. That was quite enough.
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Date: 2017-03-07 04:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-03-08 07:01 am (UTC)