Viper

23

Casa di famiglia dei Valsi, Camaldoli The two six-year-old boys sat cross-legged in the corner of the lounge. White, black and red Lego was spread all around them. Small hands and big imaginations built space shuttles and heroic astronauts.

The mothers of Enzo Valsi and Umberto Covella sat at the opposite end of the room. Coffee, cigarettes and the criminal world of the Camorra were their playthings.

Tatiana Covella was two years older than Gina, and her husband Nico ten years older than Bruno but ten times less successful – as she kept telling him. Nico was still a guaglione, a guapo; one of the guys that bosses like Bruno would send to do their dirty work.

'The problem with Nico,' explained Tatiana, passing a lit cigarette to her hostess, 'is that he is troppo spavaldo. He is always happy with whatever he has, but sometimes, you know, he is just, just a…' Her hands grabbed at the air as though trying to pluck the right word from somewhere.

'Pagliaccio,' offered Gina with a straight face.

They both burst our laughing. 'All men are clowns,' said her friend, 'but Nico, he is so gullheaded and macho. He is interested only in fucking me, not making our life better in any way.'

Gina looked across at the children. Umberto was banging the two astronauts together in some imaginary intergalactic battle. Enzo was stealing pieces from his pile to finish the side of the space station. 'I wish that, just once, Bruno would be a little more romantic,' said Gina, not meaning to. The thought had just tumbled out, and was now lying there for her friend to see.

'Give it time. When men are locked up, it messes with their minds. Bruno wasn't just in jail. Nico says prigione di massima sicurezza is awful. The isolation, the brutality…'

Gina laughed. 'Not for Bruno. My father saw to it that he was no more in maximum security than you and me sitting here in this lounge. No one stood in his way. A hand was never raised against him.'

'Still – prison – it poisons minds. It's not natural to be locked up, you must give him time.'

'He doesn't want time,' she snapped. 'What he wants is nothing to do with me. He's said as much.'

'He doesn't mean that. He's just confused.'

'Ha! Bruno, confused? Have you heard yourself?'

The sharpness in her friend's voice silenced Tatiana. Tra moglie e marito non mettere dito, she told herself. Never interfere between husband and wife. But curiosity is a terrible thing and she ached to know more. She lit a cigarette for herself. 'Have you – you know? Sex – have you at least tried?'

Gina looked sad. 'I've tried. He hasn't. He doesn't want to come near me. Says I'm fat and I disgust him.'

'Fuck him! Figlio di puttana!'

Gina smiled at her friend's support. She was embarrassed, but it was good to get it off her chest, have someone to talk to about it. 'I don't know what to do. I'm not a weak woman. At least, I certainly don't think I am -'

'Of course you're not, don't be stupid.' Tatiana thought for a second. 'Has he got someone else?'

Gina shot her a knowing look.

'Okay. They always have someone else. But someone special, someone you think he favours?'

'There were – in the past – many specials.'

'Did you confront him about them?'

'Sure. Every time I found out.'

Her friend didn't ask how many times that was. 'And what did he say?'

Gina looked at her nails. Looked anywhere but in her friend's eyes. 'I went to see the women first. Paid them off.'

'What?'

'Si. I am that stupid and that desperate. I paid the women to leave Napoli.' There were tears in the corners of her eyes. 'But at least the money came from our joint account and so at least my bastard husband paid as well.'

They both laughed.

'And now? Do you think he has someone now – so soon after being released?'

'I don't know.' She played with her cigarette and then shook her head, 'No. No, I don't think so.'

'Check his phone. Text messages sent as well as those received. They always forget to delete the ones they send.'

Gina smiled. Men were certainly stupid.

'Do you still love him?'

'What a question!' It settled on her mind like oil on water. As she thought about it, she glanced again at Enzo. He'd completed his task and had now confiscated one of Umberto's astronauts. 'He's the father of my child, the man I married. That's everything, isn't it?'

Tatiana shook her head. '"Per amore, hai mai fatto niente solo per amore?" You know this song?'

'Andrea Bocelli. "For love, have you done anything only for love? Have you defied the wind and cried out, divided the heart itself, paid and bet again, behind this obsession that remains only mine? " Yes, I know it. It is very beautiful. Beautiful and sad.'

Beautiful and sad – words that Tatiana thought also summed up her friend. 'But do you still love him like that? Do you love him so much you will do anything and everything, lose it all and then try again, knowing you could lose, lose and lose again?'

Gina looked up from the cigarette she was nervously flicking in an ashtray. 'I do still love him. But I wish I didn't. Does that make sense?'

Tatiana reached out a hand. 'Gina, you can't go on like this. You must protect yourself. If you want to avoid years of madness and tears, you only have two possible choices.'

Gina's eyes begged Tatiana for answers.

'Leave him. Take Enzo and leave him.'

'Not an option,' she sighed deeply. 'You know our way. You know my father. Marriage is for life; families are sacred.'

'Your father doesn't want to see you unhappy.'

'He doesn't want to see me divorced either. You know how things are.'

'Then you must choose the second option.'

Gina tapped her cigarette, the filter red from her lipstick. 'Which is?'

Her friend raised an eyebrow. 'Find yourself a lover.'

A cry from the corner of the room turned both of their heads. The boys were fighting.

'Hey, hey! Stop it!' Gina got up and went over to separate them.

Blood poured from Umberto's nose. He was crying. Tatiana pulled him close to her, wiping blood, tears and snot from his face.

'Say sorry, Enzo,' insisted Gina. The six-year-old pulled his shoulder free of his mother's hand. Then he smiled and spat in his playmate's face.

Like father, like son? Is the die already cast? Gina asked herself. Was her beautiful boy already destined to grow up to be as cruel as his father?