DysphoriaM.M. Morgan
Red Herring
Five years and seven months ago
The hotel cafe was a breeding ground for the worst types of people. You know the kind that don’t understand why the poor can’t pull themselves up by their bootstraps, while simultaneously being the boot crushing their throat.
My mother would call it high society, the right kind of people. If you try to argue against her, then she’ll only double down and say something worse. To the former Mrs. LeClair, there were in fact a wrong and right type of people… and we were apparently the right kind.
It always made me sick to my stomach when she lumped me in with her, we were nothing alike. I was nothing like her…
I wanted to believe that was true, but anyone on the outside looking in would only see a plastic mother and her perfect little doll.
Getting lunch with her always felt like some narcissistic game of playing dolls.
“Here’s your tea, Dolly.” She would say sweetly, “You can only have two finger sandwiches, Dolly.”
It sounded innocent enough, but I knew what she meant. Only two sandwiches because anymore then my clothes won’t fit to play dress-up later.
God forbid I gain weight. God forbid Dolly speaks for herself.
But I didn’t come to the hotel today to play games with her. I was tired of playing and constantly falling into the traps she’d meticulously put out for me. I wanted to be brave, I wanted to tell her that she couldn’t control me anymore. I wasn’t a little girl, and I sure as hell wasn’t her Dolly.
Her eyes were coal rimmed and calculating as she slowly swirled the silver teaspoon around her cup. It grated against the porcelain and my ears. She tapped the spoon clean against the rim and placed it on the saucer before taking a long, drawn-out sip. She pursed her lips after swallowing and held the cup under her nose, breathing in the aroma. “Rose,” she finally addressed me. “That’s simply not an option for you.”
I swallowed the shards of glass in my throat. “But… it is.”
She laughed as if I had told her some fantastical juvenile story. “But it isn’t.”
Years… I’ve spent years under my mother’s thumb. She pushed and pushed down on me until I felt like a splitting grape. I did everything—everything exactly as she told me in the exact manner I had been instructed. No deviation, no back talk, and absolutely no self-defense.
I was the husk of a perfect daughter. I was what she made me to be, but I… I wanted something more. Needed change—needed to find out who I was below this mask she strapped to my face.
My college graduation had concluded an hour prior, this lunch at the hotel café a façade of a celebration. A useless bachelor’s degree in a major she’d chosen for me. A degree that would sit in a drawer collecting dust because she didn’t expect me to use my education. She expected me to save face, get married, and have little dolls of my own.
I let her assume. I let her do anything she wanted because I knew as soon as I told her I planned on leaving Illinois—leaving the entire country to travel the world she would retaliate. The idea I would possibly try to escape from under her crushing thumb was cataclysmic in her eyes. That’s why I chose now, after completing my education, to tell her about my real plans.
“Actually, Mother—” But she’s no longer listening. She pulled out her phone and started tapping away on the screen, squinting because she refused to admit she needed to wear glasses in her old age.
Lifting her phone, she angled the camera to take a photo of me. “Smile for the camera, Rose. I want to show the women’s group at the country club that I brought you to Perenne for lunch.”
I itched, the sensation of insects scuttling across my skin, my eyes burning with tears I clenched my jaw to keep away. I wanted to protest but she gave me that look and suddenly I was a child again… Lifting the corners of my mouth in a weak watery smile, she snapped the photo.
“Ugh,” she sighed, flicking her finger across the screen. “You look pathetic. We’ll retake it later; this lighting makes you look sallow. I told that stupid hostess that I wanted a window table, but no—”
I drowned out her voice, letting my dissociated gaze slide across the room as she went on another offensive tirade. I’m complacent; I’m as bad as her.
My eyes found the little table by the window, occupied by two men. Watching people had become habit, it was the best way to keep scathing words from finding their target. She can’t hurt me if I’m not listening…
One man was in his late twenties, a halo of perfectly curled hair catching the light with flecks of gold in the brown. He seemed the type who spent more time in front of the mirror than anywhere else.
A real smile, practically invisible in size, raised my lips as I took in his companion. An old man with the drooping face of a basset hound sat across the table wearing a large fur coat. His hands shot through the air like missiles as he spoke and I could only wonder why he’d chosen to wear that coat in blistering May weather.
The younger man leaned back in his chair, and it was only when a lopsided grin grew across his face that I realized I’d been caught. He lifted his espresso and nodded toward me.
My stomach dropped. A look like that meant trouble and the last thing I needed was any more trouble. I frowned back at him as I turned away.
My mother was still badgering on; she didn’t care that I wasn’t listening. She was the type who enjoyed talking at someone rather than talking with.
What she did care about however was silence. Silence was a weapon—a punishment—and it was only allowed to be wielded by her.
I braced myself with a deep breath as I placed both hands flat on the table. “Please stop trying to minimize what I told you. I’m leaving for Italy in September.”
Her eye twitched with the interruption. Leaning back, she crossed her frail arms and licked a serpent’s tongue across her pearly pink lips. “You have nowhere to go.”
“I have the ticket purchased and a hotel already booked.” I’d even brought printouts of the confirmations in case she called me a liar.
Her eyes narrowed, “purchased with my credit card I imagine. I’ll believe it when I see it—you and I both know you’ll crash and burn the second you step into the airport. You’re weak, Rose. You won’t make it without me.”
My blood boiled, she mocked me so casually as if my failure was imminent. She was so certain I’d never make anything of myself.
“Why are you trying to hurt me?”
“Hurt you!” She was practically aghast. “Jesus. You sound like your father. Leaving me was the biggest mistake he ever made, look where it got him. Dead. And I still got all the money.”
“Mother, please!”
She sighed and took another drawn-out sip of tea. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Rose. I’m trying to prepare you. If you can’t handle the truth, then you obviously aren’t ready to go off into the world alone.”
I steeled my shoulders, forcing my chin high. I would not submit to her. She did not get to see me cry. “I will be getting on that plane.”
She laughed once, the sound utterly dry. “Right… Well, what do you plan to do till then? You know, for money? It’s this fun little green paper thing that you currently don’t make. In fact, your whole life is supported by me. You go through with this ridiculous plan and I’m cutting you off. I’ll freeze all of your accounts, I’ll take your car, I’ll take your apartment. It’s all under my name.”
I opened my mouth to call her bluff; there was no way she would do that. How would it look to her country club friends? “You—”
“Sorry to interrupt,” an Italian accent crooned from next to us. My mother and I looked up in surprise. Flickering dark brown eyes shined down on me as the man grasped my hand between his own. “But I had to introduce myself. I’m Vincenzo. Ottolini.”
I stared back at him like he’d grown two heads. “Hi?”
He didn’t seem to notice how awkward the exchange was, and if he did, I don’t think he cared. “I was just having lunch with mio prozio and couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are.”
“Thank you?”
My mother took that opportunity to inject herself, “Thank you. Everyone says she’s my twin.”
Vincenzo cocked a brow and turned a sharp chin over his shoulder without releasing my hand. “Ciao, you must be her sister? No?”
She preened at the compliment, but I quickly corrected him. “She’s my mother.”
“Not possible!” Vincenzo dramatically protested, no doubt trying to win her favor.
She fluffed her perfect blonde hair. “Stop it! You’re too sweet!” She looked back at me then him, an idea blossoming behind her wicked eyes. “Vincenzo, would you mind taking a picture of me and my daughter?”
My stomach curdled. “Mother, I’m sure he has better things to do—”
“Of course!” He smiled, taking her offered phone in hand. “Scooch closer together.”
“Oh, I was hoping we could take it by the window? Would that be okay?” she asked, pointing to the now vacant table.
He readily agreed and we were uprooted in the next second. Somehow my mother always seemed to get exactly what she wanted and never once had it come with a consequence.
Whoever said ‘good things happen to good people’ obviously never spent time with the grossly rich and affluent.
Vincenzo snapped a few photos of us, then promptly returned the phone for my mother to scrutinize. She’d find a flaw with me and point it out in front of the stranger, if only to make herself seem more desirable.
“You’re Italian, right?” I asked him even though I already knew the answer.
He nodded while sipping the last of his espresso. “Si, you have good ears. Parli Italiano?”
“She dabbles, a little hobby,” my mother interjected.
I bit my lip and looked down at my hands so he wouldn’t see the hurt in my eyes. As I picked at the corner of my thumb, I came to the realization the table seemed to be a member short. “Sorry… It’s really none of my business, but where did your great uncle go?”
He frowned as if confused, then his eyes widened in panic, and he frantically looked around the restaurant. “Vecchio stupido! I’m so sorry, Ladies. Mio prozio… he’s not all there in the head. Mi scusi.”
My mother and I both watched as he rushed through the restaurant and down into the main lobby. “Handsome, but dumb,” she commented, unimpressed.
“Can we please continue our conversation from before?” I tried, ignoring her two-faced nature.
“For the love of God, Rose! Let it go!” she wailed, losing her patience with me. “Do you want to be cut off? Do you want to be living on the street like some filthy vagrant? Save what little pride you have and stop arguing with me, because if you don’t, that’s exactly where you’ll be.”
I stood abruptly from my chair. It screeched against the fine marble floor like a shredded violin. I can’t take it anymore. A moment more with her and I think my soul will finally wither and die.
My fists clenched as I loomed above her. “Then I’ll get a job in the meantime! Away from you! Away from all of this!” I motioned to the fake grandeur around us. “This is your life, not mine!”
“Yes, good luck finding a job in this city. Seeing as I have the connections to call any of the places you apply and make sure they don’t hire you. You do as I say, now sit your fat ass down, you spoiled little bitch!” Her eyes practically bulged from her head; nostrils flared in anger. She was finally showing her stripes.
I tried not to let her words get to me, but they still swirled around in my head, finding a place to hide for later. Taking a step back from the table, I held my breath. “My whole life I have wanted nothing from you except love and kindness… But all you’ve ever shown me is cruelty. I’d call you inhuman, but that would be an insult to monsters.” I turned away from her and before she had a chance to respond, I added, “Goodbye, Mother. Take it all, I don’t want any of it. I’m not letting you or anyone control me ever again.”
The clack of my shoes echoed in the hotel lobby as I rushed toward the door, tremors of an approaching panic attack rising like acid up my chest. I burst through the front door, gasping for fresh air, my trembling hands clutched the pearl necklace cinched around my neck.
I couldn’t breathe as bile crept up my throat, I needed the necklace off. The knotted thread snapped, scattering the pearls across the sidewalk. My shoulders twitched up and down as I threw my head back to stare bitterly up at the sky.
Everything was going to be okay. I had to repeat that over and over to myself. I was free. I was free… but why was that realization suddenly so terrifying?
Before I could think myself into a stupor, I felt the brush of warm fur against my leg. I jolted backward, looking down to find an old man in a fur coat plucking the pearls off the concrete.
I could feel my chest trying to turn inward from embarrassment, “oh please! Please don’t bother yourself! I’ll pick it up!”
The old man smiled up at me, nodding his head, but continued to pick up the pearls. At the sight of his basset hound face, it dawned on me that this was that man’s—Vincenzo’s—great uncle.
I crouched down next to him, carefully putting a hand on his back. “Excuse me, Sir? I think your nephew is looking for you.”
“No, no. Alzarsi. Una bella donna non dovrebbe mai raccogliere qualcosa da terra.” He waved his hand at me.
My lips parted as I stumbled around my brain trying to remember any Italian from my grade school days… Bella donna, beautiful woman… terra meant earth or maybe ground? Was he telling me I was too pretty to be on the ground?
I laughed awkwardly as one did when they were trying to talk to someone who spoke a different language. “Really—please don’t bother. I made the mess; I’ll clean it up!”
He showed no sign of understanding a word I said. I watched with helpless mortification as he picked the last of the pearls off the ground and deposited them in my hands.
“Grazie” I muttered, carefully dumping the beads into my purse.
“Parli Italiano!” He clasped his hands together in joy, “le belle donne sono sempre italiane. Sì?”
I shook my head fervently, “No! No! Mio italiano… is ah… piccolo?”
He chuckled, grasping my shoulders to kiss both of my cheeks. “Perfetto come un uccello canterino. Sei Sposato? Ho un nipote che ti vorrebbe.”
I have no idea what he’s saying. “Right right…”
With muscle relaxing relief, Vincenzo raced out onto the sidewalk with sweat glistening across his brow. “Don Filoli! Non scappare mai più in quel modo! Se lo viene a sapere... Dante mi ucciderà.”
Filoli? Why does that name sound so familiar?
My stomach swirled as I took a cautious step back, watching the two interact unsure if I should leave or not.
Mr. Filoli shook his head and patted his great nephew dismissively, pointing at me as he rattled off another incomprehensible sentence.
Vincenzo turned his attention my way as if he hadn’t noticed me standing there. “It’s you!” The corner of his mouth turned up in interest and he stuck his hand out to me. “You did not tell me your name before.”
I took his hand, ashamed of my earlier rudeness. “I’m Rose—I sort of found him out here, my Italian is horrible so I didn’t really know what to do.”
Vincenzo turned my hand and kissed my knuckles, “I thank you for keeping him in one place… He keeps me young, no?”
Before I had a chance to reply, Mr. Filoli interjected himself once more, shoving a business card into my hands. “Questo è il numero di telefono di mio nipote. Puoi chiamarlo in qualsiasi momento.”
Vincenzo raised a brow at his great uncle as I slid the business card beneath the loose beads in my purse. He scolded the old man before saying, “Le mie scuse—my apologies… He ah… He can be pushy.”
“It’s alright…” I backed toward the street, “I’ll leave you two be—have a nice day—”
“Congratulations by the way!” He called, stopping me in my tracks. When I frowned at him again he scratched the back of his head and added, “I overheard your conversation. Congratulazioni! Graduation is very exciting. Whole new world for you, yes?”
I had forgotten what had taken place only ten minutes ago and reality came rushing back in. Everything tilted slightly, and I wasn’t entirely sure the world wouldn’t open up to swallow me whole.
My bottom lip trembled, “thank you.”
His eyes widened, “Did I say something wrong? Why are you crying?”
I quickly wiped my tears away, smearing my mascara. “Everything’s fine! Sorry! I’m going now—goodbye!”
“Signorina, mi scusi… but I do not think you are okay.” The man pressed, taking a step toward me while keeping a sturdy hand on his great uncle.
“Bad day is all… No need for any concern!”
He didn’t believe me; I could tell by the growing concern deepening the dip in his brow. “Fuck her.”
I froze. “What?”
“Your mamma.” He said sheepishly, admitting he’d eavesdropped on most of my conversation. “Happiness is hard to come by. Do not let anyone stop you.”
I could do nothing but stare at this stranger as his words settled into the depths of my belly. “I’ll remember that.”
“You need company. Yes. Come have a drink with me—”
I raised my hands in objection, “I’m not interested in—”
“— Non flirterai. No funny business. Let’s make this a happy day!” He pulled out his phone, “it will be much fun. I will call the car for mio prozio and we will walk to a bar. I know a place; you will like it.”
I thought of a million and one reasons why I shouldn’t go to a bar with this man. A million and one excuses as to why I should never deviate from the known.
“You don’t even know me.”
Vincenzo shrugged, “So?”
He wasn’t even fazed. Not even an ounce of concern.
Reluctance was a weight in my bones, faced with doing something so far out of character. But maybe this could be me. Maybe this is who I could be.
I swallowed my fear, “Okay. Sure.”
What was the worst that could happen?