Capítulo 6: Faded Glory
I couldn't sleep no matter what I tried. Frustrated from rolling around in my sheets, I threw the covers off me and went searching for answers to my feelings for Matthew. After all, looking into my past might help me come to terms with my confused feelings today..
I rummaged through my luggage for my portable drive, which contained all of the scans of my handwritten diaries, all my pictures, and a collection of special emails that I wanted to remember. It also had all of the poems I'd written for Matthew. Since I was 14, I'd written one for him every year on his birthday.
I connected the drive to my tablet, and started going through the files. My first destination was to explore my very early beginnings, when I was a little girl wanting to plan my life.
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As a child, I was bright, inquisitive and I wanted to know everything. Mamma liked to say I was '6 going on 26'. I knew where I wanted to live, I knew I wanted to be a scientist when I grew up, I knew I was going to get married one day and have 4 kids. You get the idea.
What I didn't know, and what ate much of my curiosity during my early years, was WHO I would spend the rest of my life with. You see, I had basically planned my wedding. All I needed was a groom and a face to paste onto that groom. You probably think that I was a screw up, worrying about things like that at my young age.
But it wasn't like that. You see, like most children, I was exceptionally curious. I was simply curious about the man that would be my future trash-taker-outer (because that's what my Papa did at home). I didn't know anything about how babies were made, or what couples actually did besides share a bed to sleep in.
I knew that sometimes, couples kissed, and that this was "magical" if I was supposed to believe the Barbie movies, but I never did really believe in them. Thus, I found kisses gross. Of course, when I was 10 and in 5th grade, 2 years after I met Matthew, I learnt all about the 'birds and the bees'. Let's just say the aftermath was that I couldn't look Matthew in the eye for 2 weeks.
For a girl so curious about how her love life would pan out, of course I turned to my source of guidance in womanly matters, Mamma. However whenever I pestered Mamma, she would tell me to be a normal 6 year old girl and stop being silly. But I couldn't help but be endlessly curious about the process of finding my partner in life. How would I know that a specific person was 'The One'? What would the face of 'The One' look like? You can probably understand that for a 'planner' like me, these questions were both distressing and exciting.
My first recollection of someone I considered one day as my 'future husband' was Alan. He was a boy in my neighborhood who was just a year older than I was. We fought quite a bit as kids, but I also remember having some good times with him. But then he moved away..
Over the next few years, I casually pasted multiple faces into this role of 'future husband'. None of it was serious effort, it was mostly just me interacting with a guy and then thinking, 'Hmm.. what if he's my future husband?'
Of course, then came Matthew. He was the next person I pasted into the role.. except it was a little less casual. I actually had a few feelings the first time I met him, and we grew to be great friends. But for the most part, after the first interaction, I saw him as a very good friend and our relationship was purely platonic. I didn't get butterflies, and I lived like a normal 8, 9 and 10 year old.
However, inside this platonic shell, there was a hopeless romantic blooming in me. Indeed, my next inspirations for romance came from TV. My desire to identify a partner in my own life bled into how I watched my favorite cartoons. In every program, I would pair up two characters, write stories pairing them up and elaborate on how they fell in love. I know it sounds majorly cuckoo, but that's just how I thought as a curious child. These stories I would create were typically very very cliche.
For example, in my rendition of Batman, he would get sick somehow. My chosen destined soulmate for him would rescue him to health, and they would kiss and get married. In another example, Ben from 'Ben 10' would find his counterpart: a girl named Benny. They would somehow fall in love, with her rescuing him somewhere in the mix, and they would get married. Starting to see a pattern here?
And then I read Harry Potter. Everyone hated Snape, but I personally, could only see a man needing some love and affection. His closed personality in need of love and care was like an invitation for my dreams. The girl I invented for him was warm, and it was a challenge for her to get him to warm up to her affection at first. Only she saw his true inner beauty, his dedication and loyalty to the secret love he harbored. Only she saw the loveliness of his soul, his life story, his name. Who else could best provide all of that for Severus except for.. Severina?
Fine. Even I admit that I was a crazy kid! But I suppose that something about me has always been a hopeless romantic. When I look back on it now, I realize two major things. The lead chosen males in my stories were lanky with a shock of dark hair and humble, never conceited. Just like a certain someone I met about two years earlier. Coincidence? Hmm.. I don't think so.
I suppose you could say that I was 'primed' to see Matthew as 'The One' because when all of this fan-fiction shipping reached my own life, I finally took a good look at Matthew, like REALLY saw him. I mean I'd known him for a while now, but when I took a very good look at him, it just hit me.
He was such a good boy. He hugged his mother so often and she praised him all the time. He was so good at school. And most importantly, when the other boys told me I had a mustache, he told me I was brilliant. He was my best friend, and if I needed help with anything, I could come to him. He had short black hair, and was more slender than most, yet so very graceful. Most importantly, he was warm. He was friendly. He was an artist. Everything about him grew on me. His humble walk. His large nose. His recessive trait of having those adorable connected earlobes. Everything about him became perfect.
Not in the literal sense of the word. It's just that he became perfect for ME. He had flaws, sure, but I could work with them. I knew he was a little closed as a person.. that he had this witty front that he put out in front of his insecurity. He wasn't always comfortable opening up and talking about his feelings. But he was never conceited. He tried his very best to be kind and caring.
Because everything about him belonged to such a lovely soul, I loved him. And in this vague way, I could really see him bringing out the best in me. And that's when he occupied this seat as 'future husband' in my head and never really stood up.
The thing that strikes me the most as I read about my history of love with Matthew.. is that this love didn't just snap into existence, even though it seems that way when I only consider the first few moments. It was a process of fostering trust, friendship, hope and care. The true feelings of love and desire came afterwards, when I was much older.
That isn't to say that there weren't any stimulants in this process, helping this love crystalize without truly knowing it. My Papa Carlo, and Matthew's Papa Cesare, were inadvertently the cheerleaders that facilitated the emergence of the strong feelings I had for Matthew. There is one day that is etched into my memory that I will never quite forget. It's one of the fondest memories I have of my Papa.
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I was 10 years old, and I was watching television. Papa came back from work, rushing in and startling my mother in the kitchen.
"What's the rush, my dear?"
"Tesoro mio!", he exclaimed and they shared a sweet kiss.
"You seem very happy today.. what's the good news?"
"Why not? The sun is high, the birds are chirping.. and Cesare just said he would like to claim our Shelley for his Matthew!"
Mamma's eyes grew wide. "But she's only a child! Why talk of this now?!"
"Sienna, you know he's just kidding. But to be more specific, I told Cesare how Shelley was skipping two grades and doing so well in school. He said that our Principessa was so bright and so kind, and he laughed and said that he would like to claim her."
"Now that's just silly talk.", she scoffed.
I had been watching this dialogue with interest because I knew it was about me. I lifted up my eyes, put on my most innocent face and asked the important question.
"Papa, Mamma.. what does it mean when Uncle Cesare wants to 'claim' me?"
They turned towards me in surprise at the same time, not expecting my entrance.
"See! Our child is growing up, becoming more and more curious and has better ears every day.", Mamma scolded.
"Nothing, Principessa. Now go back to watching your programming."
Now, I was not only curious but also a sharp child. My suspicions were confirmed by Mamma's awkwardness with the topic and my Papa's loud chuckles and teasing eyebrows. I knew that Uncle Cesare had said he wanted me to get married to Matthew. I found myself very proud of this notion.
There was also another incident that comes to mind which helped to cement my understanding that I would marry Matthew someday..
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After a holiday party, my family and I were driving back to the city while following the Ruscuiti's car. My parents were engaging in their usual conversation, when all of a sudden my ears perked up.
"Look at how kind Cesare is. He pulled over to the side of the highway so that I wouldn't lose him. Hmm.. wouldn't it be so nice if our families were linked somehow? I hope Principessa and Matthew will be the keys to that union."
I could see Mamma's appalled reaction in the mirror.
"CARLO!"
He just laughed in response.
"Our daughter has ears! Stop talking like a silly person and focus on the road."
In my young mind, it went something like this. 'So Matthew's Papa and my Papa said that Matthew and I should be married.. Papas are always right, and what Papas say always come true.. that means I'll definitely get married to Matthew!' I was definitely elated by the news and was silently celebrating in the back seat alone, trying to avoid my mother's disdain.
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We all hold certain truths in our life that we hold dear, no matter how fragile those realities are. For example, I knew that I was 10 years old. I knew that my parents loved me, and that they loved each other. I knew that my heritage was Italian, I knew I had a baby brother, and that my best friend was Matthew. Well, this became another truth of my life. I believed that I would marry Matthew, and I considered this to be one of the final truths. Both our Papas said so after all.
But wanting to marry someone is so different than having real feelings of love, right? If one needs to know the distinction, one only needs to look at the marriage of convenience that some historical figures had. Indeed, love is a feeling, and marriage is a promise. The feelings of love for Matthew were there, but it was a love for my friend. Love for a partner, as in the feelings of attraction, are typically only born during puberty. Such was the case for me as well.
It wasn't until then that I felt attraction for Matthew and, consequently, a very different breed of love for him. I was 12 when my stomach first fell and my heart started doing somersaults after the mere sight of Matthew's smirk. The first time I experienced such intense physical and emotional reactions was during a standardized test called the PSAT. What a convenient time and situation to experience a first 'crush'.
Part of the reason I was bullied was because of my young age and sheer intelligence. I was 12 when I was taking the PSAT, skipping many grades ahead and sitting for the exam alongside Matthew. This was the incident where I first felt the feelings that typically accompany a full-blown crush.
The test was challenging for me, and I focused plenty of attention onto it, preparing extensively beforehand. Matthew even came and tutored me one time, and Papa told me to dress up, his eyebrows dancing suggestively. I blushed profusely at the thought that Papa was setting me up.
I had been very focused on the exam, which was surprising considering my 'future husband' was sitting in the same room for hours with me. My friendship with him was becoming a little more complicated by the day at this point, because as we would talk, I would sometimes drift off and daydream about my life with him in the future. He, of course, didn't know anything about what our Papas said, or how, every night before I slept, I would think about how nice it would be to finally be his girlfriend.
I finished writing my test, and started proofing through it. I proofread it a second time.. then a third. Satisfied with my review but not wanting to submit it just yet, I decided to see how Matthew was faring on his test. He looked like he was done with his too, and going over it.
Back then, he had just started growing his hair out. Everyone in my parents' circle gossiped about it, and his own parents despised it. In fact, one day his mom forced him to cut it off. When I visited the manor that afternoon, he was livid. Apparently he had trashed his room, and he wouldn't say a word to anyone except me. For a normally gentle and mild mannered boy, this was a huge reaction.
Honestly, I didn't like his long hairdo very much either at first, but as with everything when it came to Matthew, I grew to love it because it was part of who he was. No matter what he did or what he looked like, I accepted it because I truly loved Matthew for who he was, not who I wanted him to be.
When the proctor came by my desk, I quickly looked away from Matthew, and focused on my test again. Soon, she was away, and deciding that I wanted to take another look at Matthew, I snuck a peek, craning my neck to look down the aisle of desks. I saw him leaning over his test, supporting his head with his hand, his elbow bent on the table. His long black hair was woven between his fingers and he occasionally ran them through his hair. Mostly, though, he was still.
As I stared at him, I was frozen. I suddenly wondered what it would be like to run my own fingers through his hair. I stared at his arms, and wondered what it would feel like to have them embrace me from behind. I stared at his face, looking so peaceful, and wondered if that was the look he would wear as he cuddled me to sleep.
As I was thinking about Matthew and admiring his still form, the sudden onslaught of butterflies took me by surprise. I suddenly felt something so foreign to me at the time. At that instant, my breathing became rapid, my heart was racing and I could feel it pounding. I was sweating, and my insides were doing flips. I suddenly lost all my concentration, forgot about my test and had the urgent need to step into a freezer. This feeling.. it felt so.. uncomfortable, and yet I somehow craved it. I didn't understand the feeling at all though. It was something I'd never experienced before. It was scary. But it was also the most exciting thing I'd ever felt.
As I exited the exam hall, I bumped into Matthew and I got a second dose of those feelings. My heart started fluttering, I was shaking and my stomach fell.
"Hey, I was just waiting to see when you'd finally come out! I know we're not supposed to talk about the test, but-"
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
I suddenly bursted out in laughter like a complete idiot.
"Uhh.. Shells, you okay?"
"Y-yeah! Totally! Completely fine!"
And I soon discovered that a crush didn't just impact your inner sensations. It also left you tongue-tied, verbally impaired and prone to embarrassing outbursts.
"If you say so, Princess."
Damn, those butterflies!
"Well, anyway.. what did you think about the question about the rocket going 180 mph and-"
I zoned out as the only thing I could concentrate on was his lips moving while he talked utter gibberish to my ears. At this point, every time I saw Matthew, I would feel all of those things. And when the bullying reached its peak a year later, I started associating Matthew with feelings of protection too. At this point, I loved him with all my heart. I felt attraction for him, and I also saw him as a sort of guardian.
But how could I have him accept me? Well.. first I had to look the part, right? But to do that, I needed to find out what his 'type' was..
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"But.. Shewwie, I don't wanna do this!"
"Steve.. be quiet! Matthew will be back from the bathroom soon and I don't want him to hear us!"
In order to find out what Matthew liked in girls, I used my little brother as a messenger. You read that right. I entrusted this task to my little baby brother, who was no more than 5 at the time. Matthew adored him to pieces and even called him Stevie Bear. In fact, he took me and Steve out to the playground every Thursday evening.
"Cou' you please tell me what I need to do again?", Steve whined.
"It's simple, Steve. Just ask him if he likes girls with long hair. Then ask him if he likes girls with big green eyes."
He nodded at that and I was really starting to think that my flawless plan could work out.
"Okay tell me what I told you so that I know you understood!"
"You told me to ask him if he likes girls with strong hair. Then-"
Welp. There goes that hope.
"No, silly! I said LONG, not STRONG! Say it again."
Stephen looked down at the ground in defeat.
"Look, if you get this right, I promise to give you five cinnamon rolls."
"Make it seven!"
"Five!"
"THREE! Take it or leave it."
"Oh. um. sure, okay. Three it is."
Sometimes I wonder how small kids' minds work.
"Now, tell me what you were gonna say to Matth- Shoot! He's on his way! Be sure to ask him, ok, Steve?"
And with that, I dashed off to the nearest hiding spot, which happened to be behind some bushes on the side of a building. I took my position and strained to hear the conversation from the playground.
"So.. where did Shells go?"
"I think she had to go potty."
Cue my face-palm as I eavesdropped. Way to make Matthew see me as hot stuff when Steve tells him I'm 'going potty'! Stephen put on a thoughtful expression.
"Hey.. what's on your mind Stevie Bear?*
"I have a question.."
His acting was splendid so far.
"Um.. okay. Spill it, squirt."
"Do you like girls with long hair?"
Yes! He did it! But Matthew seemed taken aback by the sudden question.
"Um.. yes?"
This was great news. I didn't have to chop my hair off!
"Why would you ask me that, Steve?"
"I is just, uh, ya know.. cuwious."
Yes again! My brother is a born liar! Wait.. maybe that isn't such a good thing.
"I have another question."
"Um.. okay. Is it also about girls?"
"Do you like girls with big green thighs?"
What the hell?! Matthew's expression was blank and rightfully so! Big green THIGHS?! How was I ever going to get out of this one?! Cue MEGA face-palm.
Let's just say I had to make up an excuse that Stephen watched a lot of Shrek lately. Naturally, he wanted to hear Matthew's divine perspective. I hope he bought it.. but somehow I doubt that he did. After Matthew had left,
"I did it, shewwie! I think he likes you!", he giggled. "Cause you gots long hair and big green-"
"I do not have big green thighs!"
"Who said anything about thighs? I said eyes."
"Like hell you did!"
"I still want my cinnamon rolls!"
I rolled my eyes and agreed reluctantly. It must've been like a surge of energy to him because he proceeded to jump and run all around the playground, pretending like he'd won the million dollar lotto.
"Stevie Bear, we have to go home!"
He ran to my side, pouting, "Don't call me Stevie Bear!"
"But Matthew calls you that, you little-"
"That's cause Matthew's special. He's goooood, and he's a boy."
As amusing as he was, it was still hard to deal with him sometimes.
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Such carefree times were not meant to last for long, however. Unfortunately it was only a matter of time before IT happened.
My parents were gone, and with them, a part of me was gone as well. After that incident, I never quite felt whole. And ironically, despite feeling that a part of my heart was missing, as though a hole had been drilled through it, I somehow actually felt heavier.
It took more effort to get me going in the morning. It bore on my mind that I was an orphan, and that I still didn't know what exactly transpired on that terrible day.
As time went on, the weight didn't become lighter.
I just became more used to the queer empty heaviness in my heart, and this made it feel less burdensome. The wounds, if touched, still bleed.. now it just takes a cut instead of a mere scratch.
Soon, I had to say goodbye to San Jose. That was when Matthew played me that gorgeous, heart-wrenching song as Teresa and I wept in each other's arms. The last thing I did was kiss him goodbye on the cheek. As I left the manor, I blew a kiss in his direction, and whispered 'I love you'.
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Steve and I became wards of the state. Aunt Teresa and Uncle Cesare were unable to adopt us immediately as per the rules of the state, since they had to be certified. Their plan was to adopt us when they had gotten through the training process, which would take about 8 months.
Steve always clung to me like I would vanish at any moment, and I completely understood how he felt and how terribly sad and vulnerable it was to have come to this point, so I let him hold on to me. I found myself becoming very protective of my little brother. He was all that I had left, and I loved him beyond belief.
Because we were both older children, and because Teresa and Cesare insisted to the social worker that Steve and I should be placed together, it took a little while for us to find a new home. However, the process was still relatively quick compared to what other kids our age encountered because our foster parents would get a big payment since my parents were well-off.
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"Well, kiddos, here are Tess and Richard. These are your new foster parents."
The social worker introduced us to a tall tan man, with a black tuft of hair and beard, and standing alongside him, a pixie faced blonde.
'They look nice.', I thought. For a while I had fantasies of the four of us being a big, happy family. Like Mamma and Papa and us before.
"Well, congratulations on your new family, you guys. Take care! See you on your 6-month check-up!"
As soon as the social worker was out of sight, the woman's friendly smile dropped and she stifled a yawn as she crossed her arms.
"Let's go home, kids. Mamma's very tired."
I nodded but Stephen seemed out of it. I was worried about him.
"Boy! You look at me when I'm talking to you!"
Tess' shrill voice scared and shocked me and tears sprang from Stephen's glassy eyes, and he clung to me tighter.
"Don't be mean to Steve!"
I tried to comfort Stephen as best as I could. I was now Mamma Bear.
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I learnt quickly that I needed to follow unwritten, unsaid rules to the T. I had to derive these rules by myself. No one told me at this new home what I was allowed to do or forbidden to do, until I actually did it. It was as if I lived in a police state, except the police made their rules up as the days went on.
It was very depressing.
Because I was not allowed to use the computer at home, I snuck one into my bedroom at night and used it to catch up with Matthew on Facebook. We would chat, and I would save all of my messages exchanged with him because they made me smile when I was sad.. which was often in this home.
Facebook was a link for me to the outside world, a way for me to keep up with the folks I left behind in San Jose. For example, through Facebook, I learnt that Matthew's buddies started teasing him for his long hair, calling him Aladdin.
And he really did look the part. How I wished to be his Jasmine even in those dire times.. of course looking nothing like Jasmine, but that was irrelevant. Quite literally, I found his new hairstyle extremely sexy at this point. I admired how he started doing his long hair now, and I saved all of his pictures on my secret flash-drive.
I had kept my messaging and contact with Matthew a secret, because I somehow had a feeling that they would flip out if they knew I was keeping touch with Matthew.
One night, I was messaging with him when Tess snuck up on me. She had done it once or twice before, but I was lucky to be in bed at the time. She liked to take very quiet steps into my room, stay away from reflections or lights to keep me from seeing her shadows, and just watch me until I got in trouble.
Then, she would snap.
"Well, well, well. It looks like we have a very naughty girl here.."
I turned around in shock, already fearing the worst.
"I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! Please don't forget to give Steve his lunch tomorrow!"
I learnt to issue that special request after an incident in which I talked back. Tess had threatened to withdraw dinner from my plate because I was being 'naughty', and when I said "I don't care", she responded chillingly.
"I know you don't care about your dinner,", she said silkily. "But what about your brother? Now, you don't want him to go hungry, do you?"
It was the most distressing thing I had ever heard.
But right now, I feared for my own punishment as much as Stephen's.
"Good girl. You didn't hide your mischief and you said you were sorry. Best of all, you know who's in charge around here. But. What. Did I say. About. The computer?! And who the fuck are you messaging?!"
"Uh.. Sierra.."
"DO YOU THINK I'M BLIND, YOU LITTLE FUCKING RASCAL?"
Whenever she started yelling, it was like a shot to my head.
"Stealing my money, eating my food! Who the fuck do you think you are?!"
I couldn't help but start crying at the mental torment.
"I'm sorry! Please don't tell Richard!"
"Oh, I have to, darling. Now just you wait until Richard gets a hold of those messages. Consorting with the opposite sex is a SIN, young lady."
She left me in my despair and that night, I removed Matthew from my Facebook friends list and hid my flash-drive in my underwear drawer. Knowing it would be a while before I could access them again, I committed Matthew's messages to my memory. I wept as I scrolled through his messages telling me I was 'brilliant', 'amazing', and to 'be strong', just as his mother said.
I can't express how much Teresa's order for me to 'Be strong' helped me in this difficult time. It was truly like a mantra to me, a source of strength.
Some few hours later, I logged back into my Facebook account because I wanted to make sure I did in fact clear up my trail. I had successfully removed Matthew. My page was so empty without Emmy. I suppressed the force that threatened to tear my heart apart. As I scanned the page, I noticed I had 1 unread message.
With shaking hands, I opened it, instinctively hoping it was from Emmy. But that was impossible. Why would he contact me now? Was I deluding myself with the thought that he cared enough to realize I was no longer one of his 438 Facebook friends?
But I was wrong.
With a gasp, I saw that it actually was from him.
He had a new profile picture too. He was gazing into a camera with something like a frown. His hair was still long and parted in the middle. It was adorable. I quickly scooped up my flash-drive and saved this picture. Then I frantically read the message, hoping no one would wake up and stop me. The message read:
'Hey Princess, I noticed you weren't on my Friends list anymore. I really hope this was on accident, but if I did something wrong or offended you in any way, please forgive me. I hope my Stevie Bear is well. Take care,
–matthew'
His signature goodbye was a 'take care'.. and this would probably be the last time I heard it. I began sobbing as my heart broke beyond repair. Why was this happening? Was I being taunted by Fate and was this one of its weapons? It would have been easier if he never contacted me at all! Does he really care this much?
After a couple minutes of silent weeping, I forced myself to calm down. I quickly copied this precious message to my flash-drive and hid it away. After removing the disk and erasing any trace of my use of the computer, I ran to my bed and collapsed into it, sobbing my eyes out.
I wished Mamma or Emmy were there to comfort me. But instantly, the words of his mother, 'Be strong', rang in my head as they did during all of the horrible day to day moments. I felt the strength seep in through those words of encouragement. I would not let this break me. I would be strong for this too.
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But the next morning was hell.
It was a Saturday. I desperately wished it was a Monday. I can't ever recall wanting to go to school so badly any other time in my life.. Tess was being a bitch, and she took it out on Richard. Richard, consequently, took his anger and frustration out on us after downing half a bottle of vodka.
My disobedience of his rules gave him further ammunition to eat my head off. After all, he found out that I was, 1) using the computer and 2) destroying evidence of my 'misdeeds'. He changed the password on my account so that I couldn't access it. Mysteriously, the account still stands today.
"You fucking brats. You ungrateful little rascals. How dare you disobey the rules of this house?! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?!"
Stephen was already sobbing loudly and I couldn't hold back from doing the same.
"You inbreds deserve to be left out to die. You waste space, you waste our air and you waste our money. What benefit do you serve anyone in this household?! Useless little bastards! GET OUT OF MY FUCKING SIGHT!!"
Stephen nuzzled his tear-stained face into my chest,
"I'm s-so s-sc-scared, shewwie. I want Mamma and Papa. Why aren't they coming?"
His innocent questions broke my heart into tiny pieces.
"Steve.. I miss them too. So much. Be a strong big boy for me, okay? I love you and I'll protect you."
"Like Mamma?"
How could I respond to that except to pull Stephen into my arms as I sobbed? We clung to each other desperately.
As Richard yelled at me, I always imagined Matthew sitting next to me, holding my hand, and whispering in my ear that I would be okay. I projected his role as a guardian angel when I was in school to the role of protecting me from my foster parents. He was my anchor during these times.
The worst part about this sort of abuse was that we were never laid a finger on. We were only verbally abused and intimidated, which made it seem less valid to take to the authorities. There were no bruises for the teachers to notice. No broken bones or drastic weight loss for the doctors to find. It was mostly deep emotional scars that were building up inside of me. I tried my best to protect Stephen from the worst of it. He was too young and too impressionable to be exposed to such mental abuse and brutality.
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Months later..
One night, Richard dug into the booze bottle so bad, and Tess made him so angry that he did finally hit me.
It was for some milk that Stephen accidentally spilled. His bright green eyes, a mirror of my own, grew wide with fear, and the glassy terror in them scared me to death. I hastily took his glass, and gave myself a fake milk mustache and pretended that I was the one that had dropped the milk.
SLAP
The noise echoed through the room and in my head. My face turned sideways, I gripped my cheek and I felt the burn. My throat became parched and after Richard left the room, I began to sob. I imagined Matthew at my side once again, holding my hand and caressing my cheek, telling me it would all be okay.
But this time.
I stopped believing him.
Instead, Stephen knelt next to me, wiping away my tears and trying his best to comfort his older sister. At this point, he really did become my little Stevie Bear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That very night, I found myself shaken awake by gentle hands shaking my shoulders. It felt just like the firm, caring touch Papa imparted on me in a simpler time, and I opened my eyes suddenly, bolting awake. When I rubbed my eyes, I startled away from the figure, not quite believing my sight.
"P-pa-papa?!", I cried.
"I'm not your Papa, Principessa."
But he sounded just like my Papa, and he looked like him too. And he called me 'Principessa' just like my Papa. My heart ached with a deep pain. Tears began flowing from my eyes, falling like water from a ledge.
"I'm your Uncle Georgio. Now you are safe, my sweet darling.. my Principessa."
"What about Steve?", I asked him firmly.
I could never leave him behind, and if anything, I would stay in this hellhole with him or send him away first.
"He's coming with us too. Come now, Principessa. Go to sleep, and I'll take you home.."
I closed my eyes, hoping with all my heart that this wasn't a dream, that my savior wasn't just a figment of my imagination.
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The next morning, I woke up to a brand new home.
I hugged my Uncle, gripping his shirt and weeping profusely into his shoulder. I sobbed without abandon. He pat my back, tears shining in his eyes, and kept whispering, "It's okay, Principessa, you're home now..".
I learnt later that Uncle Georgio knew my Papa called me 'Principessa' when I was a newborn, when they were still talking. He only reserved that term of endearment for me, not using it for even his own daughters.
On that note, I met my awesome new cousins, Jolie and Bella, and I met my Aunt Gianna, who seemed nice as well. It took me a little while to trust her after my experience with Tess, since I originally thought she was nice too.
But being with Jolie and Bella thawed my cagey heart, and I found myself quickly falling in love with my new home and my new family. I later asked Uncle Georgio how he knew where to find me and that I needed help.
He smiled sadly, looked deeply into my eyes and simply said, "I just had a feeling that my Principessa was in trouble."
My smile quivered with tears, and even though the answer was too vague for my liking, I could not press further because I feared that I would collapse into tears yet again.
I had no idea what would've happened to my mentality if I'd stayed in that house after that slap. I had lost all my anchors right there and then. Matthew, my parents, Teresa.. it was all stripped away from me, slowly, layer by layer, until finally there was nothing but crippling bone left.
Stephen recovered more quickly than I did, which I think is a testament to how much more resilient children are. He was back to being his obnoxious, mouthy self. Uncle Georgio and Aunt Gianna were so happy to have their first son. They were also happy to have a third daughter, now the oldest in the family and 'a very good role model'. Jolie and Bella quickly became my new BFFs.
I finally felt loved, cherished and wanted again.
But like the man who had found a home among kind wolves, feeling loved and happy was not enough. I could not let go of my past.
Matthew was in my thoughts day and night.. I wondered what he was doing at that particular moment all the time. I wrote him birthday poems every year, but I never sent them. I just never had the courage.
In those poems, I wrote about my past. I wrote about the Matthew I knew. The Matthew I thought still existed. I wrote about the Matthew I loved since I was a little girl. The Matthew who was my anchor, who was humble, kind, gentle and witty.
So very different from the Matthew I know now.
And yet, reading this history and correlating it with my current feelings.. it confirms to me that I really do still love him.
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