In Dreams

By Aramond Violli

Florencia promised to send for us, or at least that’s what Mia said. Florencia lied about a lot of things, but for some reason the three of us still clung to some odd hope that she was keep her promise, this time. It had been a little over a year since Florencia left. An autumn air was creeping back over Florence, Italy and my ten-year-old sister Mia was sitting on the roof, watching the horizon as she always did. I was, and of course, still am, Aramond Violli, one sibling of that little upstart who did not say goodbye. I crawled out onto the roof from the window of the room we had once shared. “What are you doing, Mia?” I asked her.

“Watching, someone’s coming, Ari. I can feel it,” she said, not even turning to look at me. I smiled. She had been saying that since Florencia left. How was I to know that this time she was right? Someone was coming; it just wasn’t who she expected. None of us expected this.

*****

“It’s such and honor to see you,” I heard my father saying in an exaggerated voice.

“Likewise,” said a male voice I could not place, “and have you met my wife, Abbigail?”

“It’s a pleasure, Senora?”

“Of course,” replied a woman. I peered around the doorframe to see them all. There was my father, talking to a heavy man, who was dressed as though he was on his way to an important business meeting and a lady dressed in a fur coat despite the blazing Italian heat.

“So, I read your letter and I’m not sure my wife will approve.”

“I thought your wife was sick,” the man said. An indignant feeling rose up inside me.

“That doesn’t mean she has no say in her children’s lives.”

“Let me tell you something about women.” He stated speaking quickly and I could tell that the woman he called Abbigail could not follow. “I treated my first wife like a princess. I listened to everything she said and gave her whatever she wanted. In return, she spoiled my heir and gave him ridiculous ideas. Even then, she wasn’t satisfied.”

“She left you?”

“So to speak.”

“And, yet, you’re willing to spoil your new wife by stealing my child.”

“Abbigail is a humanitarian. She wants to give the girl a better life. I’m willing to pay you any amount of money.”

“I’ll consider it, but I have to talk to Carli before anything is set in stone.” The man nodded. If only I knew what he said in English to his wife.

*****

The couple remained in Italy for the rest of the month as my mother grew worse and worse. There were days when I couldn’t bear to come home for the fear she wouldn’t be with us when I got there. I couldn’t talk to anyone about how I felt. My father was too busy keeping the restaurant running. The Astagini family withdrew a generous loan when Florencia ran off, and since then we’ve barely had a few (dollars?). The only person who was there for me was Cecile. “Ari,” she said putting her hands on my shoulders. “Don’t worry about all of this. Everything will turn out all right.”

“You know best Cecile,” I said. Then I turned around, so I could see her face. “They won’t separate us at least.” I pulled her closer.

“Of course not, you silly boy,” she said softly. Cecile and I had been together for almost two years, but still, no one knew about the two of us. I had met her in the square after church; sure, I told Florencia about that, but I didn’t tell her that Cecile hadn’t been in the church at all. How could I tell her about the girl who had just moved to town with a rather unsavory occupation to hide from? How could I tell her that the love of my life was in more danger than anyone else I knew? She had been too busy with her own petty problems.

“I don’t know why I worry…”

“Because you are loyal. You want everyone you love to be happy. That is a most admirable trait. It’s what I love most about you.” Then she kissed me: a simple, magical, beautiful kiss. There could be no one else I could love like I loved her.

*****

“Papa,” I said as I entered the kitchen. He wasn’t there. My sister, Cara, was mixing a fresh pot of Alfredo sauce, and she was the only one in the kitchen. “Where is Papa?”

“I don’t know, Aramond. He was talking to that man again, last I knew.”

“Oh,” I said, frowning at her. She shrugged again and returned to the sauce. I walked up the backstairs and into out family’s home above the restaurant.

“Where’s my son?” I heard my father asking in a sick, croaking voice.

“Right here, Papa,” I replied.

“Come, Aramond, your mother…” he trailed off and I knew. I knew that she had gone. I walked into the room and saw my father weeping next to my mother.

“Papa?”

“She has left us, Aramond,” he said quietly. I put my hand on his shoulder, but could think of nothing to say. Then I started to smell smoke. I left my father reluctantly to see what was wrong. As I left I heard him speaking, “Carli, Carli, what am I to do without you? I’m lost Carli. For goodness sake, don’t leave me alone.” I dashed downstairs, so I wouldn’t have to cry.

*****

People without souls tend to take advantage of a person’s pain in order to get what they want. A few days after my mother’s funeral, while my father was still so much in mourning, the couple that had been trying to take Mia tempted my father. “You will have enough money to care for you through old age,” said the heavy obnoxious man.

My father knew that without money the restaurant, his life’s work, would collapse. He also knew that he would have God in heaven to deal with if he sold his own daughter. It shouldn’t have been a dilemma; at least it wouldn’t have been to me. I would rather deal with bankruptcy and ruin on earth than an eternity in Hell, but my father didn’t see it that way. He simply said, “Give me a month.”

September turned to October, and our deadline was swiftly approaching. The twins knew nothing of their impending separation and I couldn’t be the one to tell them. Nothing in my personality would allow for it. My father was lucky that the Carlsons were patient people, as he kept pushing back the deadline. Eventually, they would take they matter to someone higher up in social standing and make things harder on us.

It was on a feast day that I stopped in to see Cecile after church, and changed the course of my entire life. When I walked into her tiny flat, I could hear another voice aside from her lovely, soft voice. It was the voice of an angry man, from the south by the sound of it. “Drago, I am old enough to take care of myself.”

“Cecile, listen to me. I was to take care of my family and keep it together. That is what father said to me, and I cannot let my sister run off North without looking for her. Come back home with me.”

“Please, Drago, I have a new life here.”

“We aren’t a family without you.”

“You have Annette. She’s young. Who is taking care of her while you’re disrupting my life?”

“She is staying with Benvolio.”

“Oh, how could I forget the hand-picked boyfriend? Does she know?”

“Leave Annette out of this. I’ve come to take you home.”

Then I recognized that this menacing voice from the south had to belong to Cecile’s bother, Drago, who she had often told me she was terrified of. I stepped into the room where they talking and glared at her brother. “Leave her be.”

Drago returned my glare, smiling wickedly. Without warning he drew a pistol from the inside of his coat. “And who might you be?” he asked.

I was utterly horrified and rightly so, but my love for Cecile had wiped away all common sense, “I am named Aramond Violli.”

“And why are you here with my lovely sister.”

“Your lovely sister is my beloved.” Anger grew in his eyes and his hand tensed on the trigger.

Cecile let out a cry of despair and both Drago and I turned to her. “Don’t hurt him, Drago. You can do whatever you want to me, but don’t harm Aramond.”

“I can already do whatever I want to you,” Drago said. He then did something unexpected; he turned the pistol on Cecile. “If you will not return to Annette and I, then you will return to mother and father.

“Mother and Father? Drago are you mad? Mother and Father are…” She never got to finish her statement. He had pulled the trigger and once the smoke settled down, Cecile had fallen limply to the ground.

I ran to her side, sobbing, but Drago threw me back. “Never, ever, forget the name Martines. It will haunt you ‘til the end of your days.” After that he walked out of the flat, leaving behind the mess that he made of two lives.

*****

Two days after Cecile’s All Souls’ Day funeral, Mr. Carlson came to collect. “You have put off your promise long enough,” he said angrily. For all my father’s faults, he was a man of his word. He took a sleeping Mia from the floor of our living quarters and placed her in Abbigail Carlson’s arms without a tear. Then they all left the country after almost two months.

“Would you sell me, father” I asked him bitterly, after they left.

“Of course not son. You’re a man. Mia was only a girl.”

“So you would see your daughters sold?”

“If they would be need.” I stared at my father, shock in my eyes. ‘If there would be need.’ I finally understood Florencia’s rage at being used as a pawn by father. To get more money for the restaurant was his only goal. I finally understood why she left us, and I suddenly decided that I had to leave too, but, for my part, I wouldn’t be leaving my family behind.

“Cara,” I said to my little sister, the only person I had left in the world. “Would you like to get away?”

She looked up in absolute confusion and fear. “Don’t send me away, Ari, unless I get to go where Mia went.”

I looked at her sadly. “I’m afraid that is impossible. We would be going where Florencia went.”

“Together?”

“Of course together, Caracita. I don’t want us to be separated.”

“But you want to leave, Papa?”

I lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “If we want to stay together, we don’t have a choice, my Caracita.”

*****

It was late at night when we left. We snuck out hand-in-hand and I led my darling little sister to where we would get our passage out. “So where is Florencia?” Cara asked.

“She’s off in America.”

“The golden country? Flori’s in the golden country?”

I nodded, “she is, she really is.”

*****

It took almost a month, but we made it, both of us, to New York City. “So where is Flori?” Cara asked, when we arrived.

“I don’t know,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder, guiding her into the immigration line. The doctors were rough and I had to hold Cara tightly to me, so she wouldn’t run.

“Keep close, Caracita,” I whispered as we were turned out into a busy city, having been deemed healthy enough to live in this country. She held tightly to my hand and we both walked toward the center of the city.

“Where’s Flori?” Cara asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I thought you said she was here.”

“She is, but so are many other people.” We just kept walking, hand in hand, until we came upon a hospitable looking Catholic Church. We entered the church and slowly crept toward the altar. It looked at lot like the church at home and it made Cara feel much more comfortable, but it just made me more restless.

“Can I help you?” asked a sweet and light voice. I looked at the girl, dressed all in black. She looked at me kindly through sky coloured eyes and smiled.

I looked at her and although I didn’t understand what she said, I tried to be a friend. “Aramond Violli…from Italy.” My English was broken and I knew little.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she then launched into an overdone Italian. “You’ll be looking for work, I’ll assume.” I nodded. “I might be able to help you find something. And, who’s this?” she asked, nodding to Cara.

“Cara, my little sister.”

“Cara, that’s one half of the first Italian word I learned. Wouldn’t it be precious if there were a Mia to go with her.” Cara was not paying attention, which I found a good thing, for even I had to hide my frown. “Well, I think she could get a place at the school here, no problem.”

“I would be forever grateful.”

“My pleasure, Aramond. Now, please come with me to see one of the sisters.”

“Thank you, Miss…”

“Corbin, Valerie Corbin.”

“Thank you deeply, Miss Corbin.”

She nodded and led Cara and me to a dark looking office. “Sister Agnes!” she shouted, knocking on the door.

The door flew open and a heavy woman with dark hair appeared. “Valerie Corbin, what is the matter?”

“They came from Italy, Sister. Could the little girl start school here?”

Sister Angus eyed my cynically. “Are you her father?”

“No,” I said, trying not to shrink under her gaze. “I am her brother.”

“Where is your father?”

“Dead.” Again, I was glad that Cara did not pay attention.

“So, will you register her?”

“Indeed.”

“Valerie, take the boy and look for a job. I shall interview the girl.” I was hesitant to go, but Valerie strung her arm through mine and led me away.

“Don’t worry, Aramond, Sister Agnes won’t hurt her.” I shrugged and followed her. We walked in silence for a while. She took off her lace habit and kept twirling her flaxen curls in an obvious attempt at flirting. “Do you like the more direct type?” she asked innocently.

“What?”

“If so, you’d like my sister. She’s very much the take me now type.”

“No, I wouldn’t like her.”

“Do you like me?”

“I’m sorry, Valerie, but I have a girlfriend already.”

“Oh…I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t. You’re a lovely girl, Valerie, but I don’t know you and even then…” I trailed off. She reminded me of Cecile in some way, only Cecile was dark and mysterious like a starlit night and Valerie was bright like a light summer’s day. They were so different, and, yet, so much the same.

She smiled and tugged on my arm. “Come, Aramond, we’re here.” She led me into a building called Greenwich Village Lodging House. “Sunset’ll take you in here, I heard that she’s very nice.” Again I shrugged, not knowing what to think of her kindness.

*****

“Don’t worry, Cara, Valerie will look after you. Besides, I’ll be just down the street.” Cara clung to my arm and then she was led away by Sister Agnes. I sighed and walked back to my new home at the house.