Page 47 of Pushed Through The Dark
She nodded slightly and said, "Claudio Monteverdi, he wrote it for the Venetian opera not long before he died."
"Impressive. Not many people would even have the slightest idea."
Arching a brow, she looked back at me over her shoulder and gave me a half smile. "If there's one thing I know, it's opera."
"My brother hates this stuff. He'd rather put a bullet in his own head than sit through one act. But, my grandmother, she's the one who introduced me to opera. She used to love it. She'd put it on and cook in the kitchen, completely lost in the music." Listening to the voices, I could hear the desperation in the woman's tone. "I've always enjoyed it. You can feel the music. The sadness, the pain, the desperation. It's too bad I don't understand what they're saying." Chuckling, I shrugged a shoulder.
"This is the story of a husband and wife's commitment to each other. He comes home from war and finds out that three men are harassing his wife. In the end, he's able to get rid of them and take back his kingdom."
Eyeing her curiously, I squinted as I asked, "You're Italian, aren't you?"
She looked back at me over her shoulder with sharpness in her glare. "I never said that."
"I'm right, aren't I?"
"I didn't say that." Her voice was firm.
"I don't need you to say it out loud for me to know it's true." A smirk crept up on my face as she rolled her eyes.
Got ya.
Flicking her eyes back to the pan, she said, "Good detective work."
"It's something, I mean, you won't give me anything on your own." Standing up, I moved to her side, pressing my chest against her back. "So, tell me something else. What did you use to do when you lived in Italy?"
"You mean besides getting sold like livestock?" She pushed the spatula through the eggs, scrambling them. "I lived a normal life, totally normal. I was just a regular girl."
She was looking in the pan, but she wasn't with me anymore. She was someplace else in her mind. Maybe an old memory had just popped in. Or maybe she was remembering what it felt like before her world was turned upside down.
Wrapping my hands over her shoulders, I massaged her gently. "Come back to me, minx." My words caused her to shake and look up at me. She was back, grounded, her feet firmly on the kitchen floor and not in her head.
"I said it before, it doesn't matter. I'll never be able to be that girl ever again."
"That's not true."
She held the pan in her hand, pouring eggs onto the two plates she laid out. Adding a couple of strips of bacon, she shrugged as if she had no other option than to accept it. "It is true. It's a fact." She looked back at me over her shoulder, her eyes glistening with tears she was refusing to let free. "After everything, I've been through, after everything I've seen, how could I ever get back to the person I was?"
"You can start by telling me your name."
Slamming the pan down on the stove, she grabbed both plates. Shoving one towards me, she brushed past me and sat at the island. Shoveling a giant fork full into her mouth, she kept her eyes down.
Silence.
She wouldn't accept the fact she didn't have to abandon who she still was inside. No one can erase you. Whoever she was is in there, but this was something she'd have to see on her own.
Walking to the other side, I took a seat. I wasn't going to keep pressing her, she'd give me her name when she was ready. I just had to be patient.
"I have a meeting today."
"Great, should I expect it to be like the last one?" Her head joggled on her shoulders side to side, brows reaching up to her hairline.
"No, not a chance in hell, because I'm having it here. I won't be in that situation again. You can stay in your room, or walk around the garden, it's up to you." Taking a bite of the breakfast she made me, I pointed at the plate. "This is really good."
"It's just eggs."
"Doesn't mean they're not good." Scooping in another big bite into my mouth, I smiled.
"You're such an asshole," she said with a slight grin.
