Elisa shifted restlessly at the rickety table in her room. She was supposed to be doing her math homework. Not what was assigned for Monday—that she had already completed with Maestro. These were extra problems, written out in Luciano’s precise plumed handwriting. When he pulled out the sheet, she had shuddered, but grew easier when Luciano assured her that she knew how to work each problem, and the extra practice at home would be like armor going into the next week’s lessons.
Now she smiled to see large boxes of whitespace where Maestro had noted that she was to doodle something for him. A quick glance at the problems comforted her too. Not only were they manageable after Maestro’s lesson, but included questions about how to divide cookies. The work came more fluidly than she could ever remember.
Then her father came home.
She tensed when she heard the door slam and the tight sound of something small crashing in the kitchen. Her hands flew to her ears, but then she couldn’t write, which left her mind too free to imagine what was happening outside her door. She tried covering only one ear so she could still write, or even filling in the doodle box with her other hand, but she couldn’t focus enough to work the fractions and the drawing that had begun as a dancing pomegranate tree was quickly crosshatched into unrecognizability. Her pen tore a hole in the paper, and she startled and threw the pen across the room. It’s a shame, it would have been a lovely drawing.
Her older brother, Guido, popped his head into her room. “We’re going to the park, do you want to come?”
Elisa leapt up, “Yes!”
The three children slid past their parents’ bedroom door, out of which they heard the too familiar sounds of barking insults, and the sickening sound of skin being struck. Grabbing their coats from the pole by the door, they quietly opened the door and stepped into the brisk evening air.
Guido closed the door behind them. The shouts muted. He put his hand against the door and muttered, “I hate leaving her like this.”
Matteo answered, “You say that every time.”
Guido sighed while Elisa turned her gaze to follow this conversation, the first time she’d been allowed in. “I mean it every time.”
Matteo started walking down the road. “Bastard. He clearly hates her. Why doesn’t he go? For good?”
Guido nodded curtly and said nothing.
Elisa ventured, her hands shoved deep into her pocket, “But . . . I don’t understand.”
Matteo rolled his eyes, “Well, that’s a surprise.”
Guido shoved Matteo’s shoulder, “Hey, c’mon. Don’t take it out on her.”
“Please. She never knows what’s going on. She’s in her own world, like, all the time. You know how ridiculous she is, she—”
Elisa’s hands flung up to cover her ears. “Shut up! Just shut the hell up!”
Matteo stopped and stared at his sister. “What?”
Elisa forced herself to pull her arms back down. “I thought you finally included me because you care about me, but you don’t! I don’t belong in that house. I don’t belong anywhere! Just leave me alone!”
She stormed down the street, away from the park, desperately hoping the tears wouldn’t break before she got out of hearing range.
Matteo’s voice softened and he ran to catch his sister. “Hey, I’m sorry, Elisa. I didn’t mean it that way.”
Elisa pulled away. “Leave me alone! You sound just like them.”
Guido nodded, “She’s right, Matteo. They are always on her. Is it any wonder she’s dreamy?” He put his arm around his sister, “I bet the world in your head is better than the one you wake up to each day.”
Elisa looked up at her brother, stunned. She nodded.
Guido went on, “We were so busy trying to protect Mamma, we sort of forgot about protecting you.”
Matteo bit his lip and added, “Okay, okay. That wasn’t fair, Elisa. At all. I am sorry, really sorry. I didn’t realize I was talking like Papà. He doesn’t see us at all.”
Elisa’s words escaped her before she could pull them back, “He sees you plenty. Both of you.”
Guido and Matteo looked at each other. Guido hesitated before saying, “Yes, that’s true. At least he sees our grades and how many goals we save or score.”
Matteo thought for a moment. “Why is he so hard on Elisa?”
Guido shrugged. “Maybe he just doesn’t like women. I mean, he’s horrible to Mamma, right?”
Elisa whispered, “He told me I was a mistake.”
Guido’s head whipped toward her. “What?”
“Once, when he was yelling at me because I failed a test and he had to sign it. He said I was a mistake.”
Matteo asked, “You must have misunderstood.”
Silence.
Matteo said, “I’m sorry. Of course you didn’t misunderstand.”
Guido wondered aloud, “What a strange thing to say.”
Elisa just sighed. “Well, it’s probably true. I’m so much younger than you two. Mamma got upset and tried to shush him, but you know how he is when she tries to step in.”
Matteo hugged his sister and asked, “What are we going to do?”
Guido sighed. “I don’t know. It’s not like any of us have an instruction manual to tell us how to fix this toaster. All I know is that we can’t let Elisa bear the brunt of our father’s cruelty and our mother’s fear anymore. That ends now.”
As Chiara caught the last of the sugar granules scattered across the bar with her damp towel, she spotted Stella outside, talking to Vale. Again. Chiara wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, or if Stella’s hand bumped against Vale’s side a bit more often than strictly necessary, even with the uneven terrain of the ancient cobblestones to discombobulate a walker. Certainly Vale’s hand lingered a little long on Stella’s arm or back as he reached to steady her. As Chiara watched, Stella smiled up into Vale’s face. No, this was not her imagination. Stella’s expression was awestruck, rapt, full of wonder. Not the way one
