Chapter 37 White Sheets Tradition
SANCIA VINCENZO
12 Years Old.
“Sancia!”
“Sancia! Mi farai licenziare se veniamo scoperti” (You're going to get me fired if we get caught). My Nanny whispered furiously.
“Relax, Zia Anna, everybody is down in the foyer. If you don't shout, they won't even know we're there,” I replied with a mischievous smile in English.
She glanced all around the silent stairways, expecting someone to spring from the shadows and drag her to my papa. Seeing her worry, I smile pleadingly.
“Rimarremo solo per un minuto o poco più. Promesso.” (We will only stay for a minute or so no longer. I promise.) I whispered and made the sign of the cross over my heart to seal it.
My Nanny doesn't look like she believes me, though. I sighed and silently hurried closer to the balustrade and lay flat on my stomach looking down, not bothered by the trouble I'd get into if my mother saw my pink tulle short-sleeve dress with dirt.
There's so much low chatter and whispers from the men and women in the foyer that nobody even notices us. The middle-aged woman is overreacting. My stomach flutters with curiosity and anticipation.
I know I'll be in deep trouble if God forbid my papa, mama, or one of his men look up from the foyer and see me. My curiosity has always been the cause of almost all my problems.
Despite the number of punishments I have received in my twelve years of life, I still can't let go of my bad habits, as my mama likes to call them. Mama and the other women of our family were huddled together. Amidst them was Aunt Adelina.
If I hadn't been where I wasn't supposed to be and wouldn't have been punished if found out, I would have called her name and waved at her. I frowned when I realized she was crying and Mama and Aunt Francesca were consoling her.
Yesterday had been a busy day, at least for the adults. For me, it was one of the fun days. All my cousins and friends were invited, though the soldiers were still standing guard over us; they weren't bothering us in any way.
To be honest, I sometimes forget they were there. I'm used to them. They were a constant in my life, an unshakable nuisance, always there to guard me, protect me, and stop me.
We've had such a great time playing in the garden during the reception that I'd forget my sadness and melancholy about my aunt Adelina leaving me, leaving our famiglia.
At least I had until it was time for her and her new husband, Giovanni, to leave for their hotel, where they'll be staying for a week before leaving for London, where her husband has a thriving business and, of course, a mansion.
When she hugged Isabella and me, I watched her husband hold her close, guiding her to her side of the door. That's when my eyes teared up, and my lips trembled, but I knew what would happen if I cried here in public.
Disgrace, shame, weakness; that's what it means to cry in public. And as my papa always seems to remind me, Vincenzos do not cry in public.
So, I clamp my mouth shut, swallow back my tears, and somehow even manage a watery smile when Aunt Adelina waves at me, smiling from the car before they drive away.
She'd told me it wouldn't be our final goodbyes until tomorrow, after they came here for the last ceremony, which Mama told me was special, that only grown-ups were allowed to attend, and that I would be able to attend when I'm older.
Aunt Adelina had been telling me the truth; they were back, but I couldn't see her. And I was so eager to see her that I snuck here. That, and the fact that I was curious to see what special occasion Mama was talking about. I don't want to wait for another thing that I can only know until I'm older.
Which explains why I'm here where I'm not allowed to be. Though I know a lot of things are hidden from me, there's a lot that even I could see. They think I am young and innocent, and they are not wrong, but there's also something I'm not… stupid.
Right from the time I could think for myself, I knew that my family wasn't normal, that we were different from the other famiglias in Italy. In that, my Papa makes no secret of our family business. I know my brother Sergio is supposed to inherit the family business when he's older.
“Adelina, you've dishonored yourself and your husband and disgraced our family name,” my grand-uncle Faro's voice startled me.
He was a giant, tall and broad, with a big belly. He was as respected as Papa. Though Papa was Don, Uncle Faro held great sway in our society, even I know that. To be honest, I was even more afraid of him than Papa.
I remember his words because it was the same thing Papa and Mama had been drilling into my head. It was our family motto that I could recite even in my sleep.
No matter what you do, don't disgrace and dishonor your family, Sancia. You're a Vincenzo and a pride to your family.
A large white sheet was suddenly spread wide by two soldiers for the audience.
Uncle Faro pointed at it as he spat more angry words, his eyes flaming with disdain toward Aunt Adelina, who was crying until he pointed at her and said something.
I remember her wiping her tears and raising her chin defiantly. She was shouting something while Mama and Aunt Francesca frantically said something, shaking her and telling her to shut up. But Aunt Adelina wouldn't stop talking. I remember her last words.
“Punish me if you must, but stop with the hypocrisy.”
And what happened next was nothing I had ever witnessed or expected. Two made men tied Aunt Adelina against the column in the foyer.
Marcello Papa's enforcer at the time stands behind her, holding a horsewhip. His hand swung back and landed so hard on her back that she screamed, and my heart completely stopped.
I couldn't breathe, couldn't stop looking even as I shook in fright. My eyes were wide as saucers staring at this blatantly horrifying thing. But what's worse, no one was stopping it.
There's a reason why that memory was buried so deep that I didn't remember it. Papa had burned everything that belonged to Aunt Adelina or was related to her.
She was completely cut off, with no money and nothing to her name. Everybody just suddenly stopped talking about her or even mentioning her name.
I can't remember what happened to her. But when I called Antonio, he'd told me that she was banished, allowed to go free after twenty lashes, never to return or contact anyone in the famiglia.
When I asked him if he knew where she went, he told me no one knew. This was what gave me this idea: twenty lashes for my freedom is not a bad deal; the only thing that would suck is not seeing my family ever again.
Things could change in the future; things aren't the same as they were a decade ago.
I lied to Mama because I needed the truth that I was not a virgin to be known by Papa and the rest of the men in our society.
I have a feeling Mama would rather Papa hide my crime and give me to a soldier; they would probably tell Lorenzo and offer him to some other poor girl from the famiglia. He might agree or not, which isn't my problem.
I would have been happy if I knew the soldier I would be given to was Antonio, but I know it won't be. Antonio and I were now forbidden to each other; the next best thing for my life is my freedom.
Although some people might not think I love Antonio. Considering I had done what others could deem as betrayal—something a woman who is in love will not do. But I know I love him.
I know not many would understand me or the desperation that had driven me to make that decision. I hope, if no one else, Antonio would understand.
“Do you, Lorenzo, take Sancia to be your….” the minister said, yanking me back to the present as he read our vows.
“I do,” I said mechanically. When it was my turn, a delusional part of my brain imagined Antonio barging in and stopping this wedding, but imagination was just that.
Antonio is forever out of my reach, and maybe it was for the best. He's alive and well and would probably forget me soon, and I'm also close to getting my freedom.
“You may now kiss the bride.” My eyes flutter wide, and I stare at Lorenzo as he leans in to kiss me.
My husband.
God, it's strange calling him that, but he's now truly my husband, though not for long if my plan succeeds.