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Aunt Patritsiya gives me a knowing smile as she meets my eyes. “I’m so proud of you for working as hard as you do to follow your dreams, Anya.”
“Thank you, Auntie,” I say.
“Is it too much? You’ve seemed so stressed lately.” Her tone holds concern, and it brings tears to my eyes despite myself.
“I’m fine. Really. Just a bit tired,” I promise.
Aunt Patritsiya nods. “Well, I’m glad you get to spend the day with us today.”
“Me too,” I murmur and take a bite of pancake to hide the emotion that closes my throat.
Determined to make the most of my time with my daughter and aunt, I ask all the questions I haven’t been able to hear the answers to lately–what Clara’s favorite thing about school is these days, how she’s enjoying her new school clothes. Clara babbles happily in her broken four-year-old’s speech, barely pausing for breath between stories and mouthfuls of pancake.
When breakfast is done, we clear the table, and Aunt Patritsiya shoos us into the living room for our dance party while she cleans up the dishes.
Clara picks the song from among our meager collection of ancient CDs we play on our even more ancient sound system that came with the apartment. As the tune to “I Got You, Babe” by Sonny and Cher pours from the speakers, Clara grips my fingers and pulls me toward the open space of our living room.
Warm fills me as the tune reminds me of my parents, who used to listen to this CD all the time while I was young. The joy of seeing my beautiful little girl spin and twirl the music soothes my soul like a salve. I turn Clara in loops as she dances, squealing with delight as she starts to grow dizzy.
“Mommy, you dance!” she demands as she sways unsteadily on her feet.
Laughing, I oblige her, drawing upon a few of my ballet moves I know she loves as I lift lightly onto my toes and flick my feet. Clara claps excitedly and begs for more.
“Okay, but you have to help me. Do as I do,” I insist as I take her hands and lead her into another simple set of steps.
Clara copies me to the best of her ability and beams when I praise her for being such a good dancer.
“I want to be a ballerina, too, when I grow up!” Clara shouts happily as she repeats the steps more confidently this time.
I feel as though my heart might burst with love at this moment. My precious little girl brings me such wonder and happiness. How I ever got so lucky to be blessed with Clara, I don’t know. She lights up my life and brings me peace, even when I feel I might be crushed beneath the weight of my circumstances. For Clara alone, I will be eternally grateful to Nicolo. Without my little girl, my life would have such little meaning. I live to make her life better, to see she’s taken care of, well-loved, and happy.
After getting to know Nicolo better, I’m more grateful than ever that I never told him about her. She’s my secret, safe from his cold brutality. I will protect her from all the evils of the world with every drop of my strength and conviction–even if that evil is her own father.
I’m brimming with happiness as Clara giggles freely, throwing herself onto the couch in what I can only assume is her version of interpretive dance. And then she’s jumping into my arms to hug my neck tightly. I cling to her, holding her close as I twirl her in a circle, exacting another squeal of joy from her. This is what I needed. One day with my daughter to fortify me for another week of torture at Nicolo’s hands. After today, I will be so full of love that nothing Nicolo does will hurt me. Clara’s love and affection are as much my shields as I am hers.
27
ANYA
Ifeel like a streetwalker as I stand on the curb in front of my apartment building in the crimson velvet dress Nicolo told me to wear for our date tonight. Tugging on the short skirt to try and pull it lower over my thighs, I look up and down the street for any sign of Nicolo. A bitter gust of wind cuts across my skin like knives, and I’m thankful for the dress’s long sleeves. However, the asymmetrical cutouts across my midriff allow the cold air to penetrate the fabric around my breasts, making my nipples as hard as glass. I try to cover as much of my exposed flesh as I can with my arms and resist the urge to go get my jacket. I know if I do, he’ll only have me take it off again like he did the other night.
Spotting Nicolo’s black Maserati a moment later, relief floods me. Immediately the emotion is followed by confused tension. Still, I remind myself that the warmth inside his car is what I’m desperately craving. Bending to grab the door handle, I pull it open and slide quickly into the car, getting more dextrous about the maneuver and also caring less today about what he might see. All I want is to stop shivering.
“Sorry I’m late,” Nicolo says flatly as his eyes follow me into the car.
Despite the flicker of arousal that disrupts the dark thunderstorm of his expression, Nicolo seems mercurial and sullen as he pulls away from the curb. I’m surprised to find him in such a bad mood after I actually put on the dress he found most interesting during our shopping day, the one I promised I wouldn’t be caught dead in as I raced to take it off as quickly as possible in the store.
“Family emergency” is all he says as follow up, but the tension in his tone is palpable.
As I lean closer to the heater to thaw my frozen fingers, I wonder if that meansfamilyfamily ormafiafamily. I bite my lip to stop myself from asking. Today seems like the last day I want to provoke him into punishing me.
Nicolo white-knuckles the steering wheel as he races across town, and the silence is stifling, but I can’t think of anything to say.
“Are you all right?” I finally ask, watching for his reaction from the corner of my eye.
Nicolo’s scowl intensifies as he glares out the windshield. “I just want you to take my mind off of it,” he growls. Flashing me a warning look, he adds, “You better show me a good fucking time tonight.”
My stomach knots and I shiver as my body responds to the ice in his tone. Falling silent once more, I pick at the hem of my dress. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to show him a good time. But I think being agreeable is a good idea tonight. I choke down my internal conflict and put on my game face as I prepare for whatever he has in store for me.
