CHIARA
Yesterday, I walked out of the bathroom with him gone and smirked.
It wasn't my intention by all means to torture the man, but it was a bet made between me and his mother. His very own mother, yes. When I went to her house, Francesca had our day planned out already and it involved me spending the entire day with her. I couldn't deny her even if I wanted to. So, we went out together. And she was so happy to introduce me to her friends as her daughter-in-law. It was futile to try and correct her anyway, so I went with the flow. The day started smoothly with a shopping date.
She had her own taste too given her age. But our taste for jewelry was almost the same.
We were arguing that no man can ever resist sexual attraction with some of her friends at the spa. Don't even ask me how that topic came up. I mean it was bloody Francesca who we were talking about. So, I said, my 'traditional' man, his son, was very much capable of it. I'd tried several tricks myself and none ever worked on him.
But Francesca denied me and said we should bet. The deal was tempting. How could I deny it when she said she would let me take anything I wanted from the Conti's home art gallery? I haven't been there before, but I could tell that it was filled with beauties and gems there. It was the collector ass in me that couldn't resist the offer. But deep down, I knew the man wouldn't do anything to me. I knew he would pull through.
I waited for him to return to the room, but he never did and when I woke up, he was already gone. I chased the poor man away. And it was all Francesca's fault. But I couldn't help laughing every time I imagined him running away from me. He should. I wasn't a good person.
While shopping we talked about a lot of things, even his childhood shameful moments. And I enjoyed the fact that she spoke her mind, no riddles. Francesca also hinted to me about the upcoming holiday. La Festa Della Donna (Women's Day); held on March 8th, which was a significant holiday, throughout history and even in the present, gifting women with a yellow flower (mimosa). I never gave it so much meaning myself, but I'd give it to my mother on that particular day.
The mimosa flower was a symbol of this day in Italy. People handed them to women as a gesture of appreciation for resilience, respect, sisterhood, love and the fight for equality. The day had a symbolic and festive nature. She said this culture was a big deal in their family and was allegedly passed down in their household from generations to generations. That being said, the holiday was three days away and I wouldn't lie, I was anticipating it.
Back at our hellhole, we had no cultures or customs to practice apart from the hideous and absurd rules made by Antonio and his little minion, Luca. I wished I'd gotten to celebrate it with my mother beside me. I wished to hand mimosa to the most important woman in my life. Sadly, it wasn't going to happen this year.