Of volume lineage

XV

 

Isabella

 

I was sitting on my childhood bed, sheets-stained rainbow from all the times I had snuck crayons in after bedtime. A little girl sat in front of me, her long dark hair framing an angelic face and her white dress pooling around her. Both of us were drawing but I couldn’t tell you what the image on the paper was.

“You should leave,” the little girl said. “You’re too big for the bed now.”

I looked down. My legs were hanging off the single bed. “It’s my bed.”

“You’re too big,” she insisted. “You need to leave.”

I got off the bed. Standing up, it seemed so much smaller. Like I had somehow crammed myself into a dollhouse, with miniature furniture.

“The door is over there,” she pointed.

I followed her direction. The bedroom was open, but I couldn’t see the hallway beyond. I wandered closer, squinting.

“I’d rather stay here,” I said. “I don’t know what’s out there.”

“You can’t stay here. You don’t fit.”

I scowled. “I fit.”

“No, you don’t.” Her eyes implored. “Go now. Quick. Before Mama makes you stay.”

My legs moved on their own volition. One second, I was peering down at the bed and the next I was stepping through the door. Where the bedroom had hard flooring, the hallway didn’t. In fact, I felt the floor give away–

Water swallowed me whole as I plunged into blue depths. It filled my lungs, filled my chest. I stretched my arms out, searching for the door, or anything to latch onto. My fingers felt nothing but more water.

Help! I screamed but bubbles left my mouth instead of noise. Help me, help me!

I looked around for the bedroom but there was only blue. It rose above and below me, left and right. More water was constricting my insides–

My chest felt like it was being torn out and I was going to die–

I jolted upright, my breathing harsh to my ears. A light sheen of sweat coated my skin and the blankets were twisted around my legs.

“Isabella? Are you okay?”

I looked up. Giova

The feeling of his fingers against my clit, the piercing pain of the glass, the orgasm that had nearly made me blind all shuddered through me at once. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe again.

My cheeks heated. “Fine,” I forced out. “Just…just a bad dream.”

“You sounded afraid.”

“Don’t worry. You weren’t the starring lead in this one.”

Giova

“Jealous?”

“Yes.”

Everything stopped. Time, oxygen, the axis on which the world turned.

God, it was so hot.

Must be the weather, I comforted myself, ignoring the fact that it was only mid-March.

I peeled off the blankets and got to my feet. Giova

The weather, I repeated as I gulped down my water. It’s just the weather.

 

 

“Can I stay home today?”

I glanced down at Marzia in surprise. The busy street of Manhattan surrounded us as everyone went to work or came back from their night shift. We were a few metres away from the entrance of Our Lady of Perpetua and Marzia had stopped suddenly, digging her heels into the concrete. Some people sent us filthy looks as they were forced to alter their walk.

I sent them filthy looks right back.

“You love school,” I said to Marzia. “Yesterday, you were going on and on about the space unit you’re learning. Don’t you get to create a model solar system?”

She cringed. “I feel sick.”

I pressed a hand to her forehead. She didn’t feel warm. “Sick? What’s the matter?”

“Uh…” Marzia looked down at her shoes before back at me. “My belly hurts. And my throat. And my head.”

“I’m surprised you got out of bed this morning,” I said dryly. I pulled her over to the side, crouching down in front of her. Daniele and Gustavo sent me questioning looks but I ignored them. “Why don’t you want to go to school?”

Marzia shrugged, refusing to meet my gaze. “I just don’t want to.”

“Does it have anything to do with your teacher or–” I sent her a meaningful look “the other kids in your class?”

She mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Just don’t wa

I looked back at the building. A congregation of parents huddled together like a pack of vultures, comparing cars and houses and Pilates teachers.

“If your father asks, you threw up.”

Marzia snapped her head to me, eyes wide. “What?”

I rose back to my full height, giving her a pat on the shoulder. I meant it to be affectionate but it kind of looked like I was patting a dog. I pulled my hand away, tucking it in my pockets.

“When your father asks why you didn’t go to school,” I clarified, “lie and tell him you were sick. Then tell him to come talk to me.”

“I thought lying was bad.”

“Do you want the day off or not?”

Marzia immediately changed her opinion on lying. She seemed much happier than she had thirty seconds ago when she asked, “What are we going to do?”

We strolled back the way we came. “I’m not sure. What do you want to do?”

I knew the moment an idea popped into her head because she smiled endearingly, batting her dark eyelashes up at me. “Can we go to the museum?”

 

For a Tuesday morning, the Metropolitan Museum of Art was oddly quiet. A few patrons and tour groups passed us, but for the most part, Marzia and I got to stand in front of the exhibits without elbowing any i

“We can look at the dinosaurs,” she told me, taking this very seriously, guide in hand, “and then the art.”

“Something for you, something for me,” I agreed.

A few people sent Marzia looks when they noticed her in her school uniform, but no one approached us. I think the towering and intimidating bodyguards helped with that.

Marzia and I made quite the pair. Her in her pleated pinafore with pigtails and dinosaur backpack, and me towering above her short stature in my white midi dress and matching six-inch heels. Eventually, she got tired of carrying around her backpack and made me hold onto it. When I spotted myself in the mirror, purple book bag hanging beside my Valentino handbag, I thought: God, I look like a mother.

We took a seat in front of a huge brontosaurus skeleton, the dinosaur pulled back on its hind legs like it was reaching up to the ceiling. Marzia read out the plack that had all the information, decided it was too brief and gave me a detailed rundown on the giant herbivore. Eventually, she fell silent and sat down next to me, staring up at the bones.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on at school or you’re not ready yet?”

She swung her legs, not meeting my eyes. “Not ready.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t happy about it, but I could wait until she was. Well, I could try and wait. Patience wasn’t my strong suit. “I’m here when you want to talk about it.”

Marzia glanced at me. “You’re not my mom. Why do you care?”

“You’re right, I’m not,” I said, trying to soften my voice. She was right, I wasn’t her mother. I wasn’t going to overstep into her life, especially when I was helping bring down her father. “But I do care about you and want you to know you can always come to me. For anything.”