I was so immensely grateful that she saw good in me, my throat tightened. Pushing out English words was even harder at the moment. “May I speak Italian for a m-moment?”
Isabella almost smiled. “I think the language, from you, is okay.”
“Thank you.” I told her, “Isabella, it is such an honor for me that you find it easy to speak with me. Maybe, together, you and I can help find your Scarlett.”
Tears dripped to the pillow, but at least now there was some hope present in her depleted eyes. “And maybe you are truly an angel, after all.”
Sal was waiting for me when I came out of the house. He quickly stood. “Find out anything?” Nervously, he rubbed his palms on the front of his pants.
Trying to shake away the darkness I felt around Isabella, I took a deep breath of fresh air, but when a human has suffered to such an extent, it takes more than air to clear the clouds. It was going to take much effort and hope to see this through. And there was no time to waste. “Let’s call our fathers.”
On the phone, we four men—two young, two older—spoke about how there were seven English-speaking men who Isabella had to deal with on a constant basis. I explained how Isabella wasn’t sure which of them fathered her child, but I would do my best to learn more the following day. For now, all I knew was that she and Scarlett had been kept in a very small barren bedroom with only one window, and they seemed to be surrounded by huge mountains that were sometimes covered in snow. Not much to go on when having the whole world to consider.
My father praised my efforts and asked me to give her examples of accents before disconnecting the phone line.
Mrs. Rossi came into our home and after taking one look at us, her lively Italian hands started flying through the air. “My boys are to get out of this house and take a swim in the river. Let that water rinse your souls. Learn to find pleasure when within the darkness. It is the only way to survive.” She opened the door. “Be back for dinner.”
Walking through the woods, I wondered what river my father and Mr. Rossi swam in to find peace.
Sitting on the river’s edge, Sal and I were shoulder to shoulder, both legs bent up so we could rest our tired arms on our knees. It was quiet. The swim hadn’t done the trick, but the sound of the flowing water was tranquil.
That is until it was interrupted with, “Are you guys okay?” We hadn’t even heard Noemi approach, but there she was. Her light brown hair was blowing in the breeze, pretty face smiling.
We didn’t answer. Our minds were spinning with all we kept learning. My heart needed to find a way to help all the victims of this brutal sex trade.
“I guess the Giordanos wouldn’t exactly let you talk to outsiders about what goes on, on the inside.”
Sal and I peered up at her. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I wanted to warn Noemi of the world. Tell her to listen to her parents. Beware of the strangers who steal innocent women and children and sell them as if they have no purpose other than to perform sexual acts—
“People talk. Even though you two may never confide in me, people say Isabella was taken, not sent away.”
I swallowed, wondering how many people in any surrounding areas were aware of the Giordanos’ dealings. I wondered how long this name had been in existence and how far their reach was.
After a little silence, Noemi added, “There are even rumors that, now that she has returned, she will never be able to find a suitor.”
I rolled my eyes, thinking that was most likely the last worry on Isabella’s mind.
“That she was part of an underground world that most hope to never see.” Noemi’s voice softened. “I suspect you two have already had a glimpse, and now struggle with how to deal with it.”
How was she so insightful? I may never know the answer to be anything other than divine intervention.
Mrs. Rossi had asked us to learn how to find pleasure when within the darkness. Like my aunt, she was aware of what kind of life we were destined to lead, and that we needed a way to release the stress in order to survive.
That day at the river, Sal and I did just that, without even knowing what we were starting.
Not speaking, Sal and I watched Noemi kneel in front of us and rest on her hands, her little dress falling forward. “So, I have decided to be a distraction.”
She was a childhood friend of Sal’s, who had grown into a lovely young woman, now at the ripe age of sixteen. I say ripe because it is not only boys who have desires—wanting to experiment and feel their heart pound with questionable actions, according to parents. Sal and I came across such girls from time to time. Ones that had an exciting, daring side. Ones that were quite aware of the power they had over the male gender and wielded that power when in the mood.
Lucky for Sal and me this early evening, Noemi was in such a mood.
No longer thinking of Giordano business because we were too busy staring down Noemi’s dress, seeing the tops of perfect little mounds, we blinked when she laughed. “See how easy that was?”
Sal and I looked at each other, then back to Noemi, then nodded in unison.
She sat back on her bent legs. “I could make it easier for you to see what has gained your attention.”
The power…
Sal and I didn’t move. I think we feared if we did, this dream could end.
“But,” she held up a finger, “it has to be fair.”
My mind raced to Isabella and how unfair her treatment had been. In front of me was a girl who seemed to have all the control of the situation. Sal, nor I, would never force a girl to do anything she didn’t want. So, I agreed to the understanding without even knowing what the deal was. “I believe in fair.”
Sal nodded to her. “Always.”
She studied us, and we let her, again not moving.
Then, as if seeing what she was looking for, Noemi inhaled… deeply. “In a couple of years, I will have to marry a man who may think he owns me because of how he was raised.”
With regret, we nodded. She was right. Many still believed in old rules.
“There is not one part of me I want him to have first.” She growled, “What’s mine is mine.”
Had I not just talked to Isabella, and then Sal and our fathers about such a subject, her words wouldn’t have hit me so hard, forever changing me to the core. I would never have understood how serious she was. How sad she was to lose control over her own body.
Isabella’s body had been used. That meant her heart had been used, too. Learning they were connected, I told Noemi, “I promise to not hurt your heart.”
Her head tilted in surprise. “Is that a promise you can keep?”
Sal told her, “He keeps every promise he makes.”
Accepting his answer, she asked him, “What about you?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea what you two are talking about, but I would love to see your breasts.”
She laughed, then tapped her chest again. “Angelo and I are saying, if I let you touch my breasts, know you are touching a part of my heart, too.”
It took all I had to not chuckle as I watched Sal do his best to reply, even though I knew his mind had shut down after she mentioned him being allowed to touch her breasts. His brows bunched as if he was trying to truly read deep and impress her—so that he could touch a tit—then Sal finally slowly nodded. “I can make that promise, too.”