Tattooed Heart

People drifted away from their friends and family when they fell in love, didn’t they? Giorgia hadn’t even noticed it happening once she’d found Patrick. You wrapped yourself up in somebody, woke every morning looking forward to seeing them light up when they saw you, each smile, each glimmer in espresso eyes – or blue, Pat’s had been a pale blue, cold once she’d really seen them – and the rest of the world didn’t matter. It was only when all of that was torn away that you realised how alone you had really been without them all.

If it happened here not there, maybe her sister would’ve helped drown her sorrows in buckets of martinis, but Roxxi had long ago left the city and her family, finding her own all-encompassing love here. A man with those espresso eyes who would never dream of doing what Patrick had done. Giorgia had seen the adoring looks the detective had aimed Roxana’s way and had felt herself go hollow at the thought of what she’d had and lost. Perhaps it was not gone forever – her relationship with her sister hadn’t been after all – but it certainly wouldn’t be rekindled with that cazzo di merda.

Pride had been the last thing she’d felt as she’d sidled into her sister’s classroom to surprise her, but it was in Giorgia’s chest now as she watched Roxxi open her gift. Having a broken heart hadn’t stripped her of her taste – just a little of her self-control and a fair amount of her confidence. ”Prego,” she murmured. Making a small sound of agreement, she gestured at her sister to open the gift. ”Chase isn’t expecting you back for more celebrations at some point?” One dark brow rose, the smile still creasing her lips. Her sister wouldn’t have hesitated to tell her if she was treading all over the detective’s grand plans for the rest of their night.

Where she picked her words, Roxana gave them with brutal honesty. So, when she gave her appreciation for the purse, Giorgia drank it in. She clucked her tongue as the instant warning of it being too much followed. Giorgia waved a hand at her, brushing it off. ”I have plenty of birthdays to make up for.” And all the money to do it with. Let some of what she’d earned working for Emiliano pay for something he would despise. She let Roxxi pull her into a hug, not adding the reason why she had been purse shopping in the first place – the shredding of her own that she still couldn’t explain.

Little mysteries had swirled in her brain for weeks, shadowy spots that shredded like her purse as soon as she tried to take hold of them. Giorgia’s brows drew together as they headed out of the building. She wasn’t about to ask Roxana to start helping her try and shine light on them, especially not today. Today was about Roxxi, and apparently her sister’s concerns over being another year older. Snorting, she bumped her sister lightly with her shoulder. She paused as she eased back though, the hollow growing. ”You don’t have much choice,” she admitted with a sigh. You picked yourself up and forced yourself to walk on, all the while holding the tattered remains of your heart in your hands.

”Mom should not be your role model for that,” Giorgia chuckled. ”You would tear all of your hair out in a week. You’ve talked about it with him? About children and marriage?” She had with Pat once. The answer had always been later, when their careers were established – more likely it would have been when there wasn’t a single woman left in New Orleans that he hadn’t slept with. Was it too much to ask for a man who would never do that to her? One who was ready to dedicate himself to her, to be binary stars ready to orbit one another for an eternity.

Giorgia brushed her hair back from her face as she walked, flipping it over her shoulder to stare more closely at her sister’s face as Roxxi’s grumbles shifted subject. She squinted, catching Roxxi’s chin to better see it. ”That’s no wrinkle, sorellina.” Scoffing, Giorgia let go and shook her head. ”It’s happiness. You have a man who makes you smile enough to make a line. Next thing you’ll be complaining because he did get you pregnant and there are stretch marks. If you were really getting old you would...”

Be having a midlife crisis. Start thinking about getting a tattoo. Spotting the parlour, Giorgia gripped her sister’s arm. She’d never imagined the sort to ink her skin – especially since it was so hard to get them to stay when they were like they were, but people used them to celebrate milestones and she had one, didn’t she? Giorgia drifted towards it, drawing Roxxi with her. ”Maybe we should make bad decisions before we drink the margaritas,” she muttered. Staring at the window rather than her sister, she hummed lightly. ”When did you get yours?” Maybe when she left, anything to show Emiliano that she was no longer his. Now she was in the same boat, ready enough to stamp her freedom on her skin that was she already opening the door and pulling Roxxi inside.

Tagged: ROXANNE BRASCHI * Word Count: 882
Translation: D*ckfaced piece of shit/little sister

The memory of that vein throbbing like it would explode in Emiliano’s forehead came through so clear as Roxxi admitted she hadn’t just been talking about marriage and children with Chase, but actively trying for it. Strict with his daughters – the boys always got away with so much more – he had been plenty agree when the lines were pushed. His voice rising, his face flushing. Face to face with that sort of anger had been intimidating for her, not for Roxxi though. Like she was determined to do everything to prove that she wouldn’t cow to his orders, she was now looking to have children with the one man guaranteed to have that vein blowing like a firehose.

”Then it will happen,” Giorgia assured her with a small smile. She just hoped that she wasn’t there to witness Emiliano’s fury over it. A shiver ran over her skin, her fingers curling into her palm for a moment before she spotted the tattoo parlour. Once had been enough, although now she wasn’t sure she could have even said what it had been over. There had just been the shiver of fear running over her, a flash of desperation and then a sadness that seemed like it had plagued her for months. If there had been a time to do foolish things, then it should’ve been then, not when she was a divorced crone of thirty-four.

It hadn’t been Roxxi’s ridiculous complaint about her non-existent wrinkle that had pushed her to it either. Her sister had what she had always dreamt of for the future –children on the way sooner rather than later, a man who would give her the world, who would give his life to protect her. What did she have? A hollow where her heart had been, a desperate yearning for someone who felt just out of reach.

Giorgia’s laugh was faintly watery when it emerged. ”Si.” Her other arm rose to curl around her stomach, her palm finding a spot on her ribs. ”Braschi Bitches right here,” she joked, knowing her sister never would. They weren’t there yet, too many years of bitterness separated them for any such gesture. Dragging her sister to get tattoos on her birthday felt a little like she was monopolising the day but she was already taking a slow step towards the door, tears rising in her eyes as Roxana murmured that her cross tattoo had been done for their father. She wished she could say that was who she was doing this for, but it wasn’t a cross she wanted, or something with their father’s name etched on her skin.

Looking back at her sister, Giorgia managed to smile wryly. The mist of tears was vanishing from her eyes as she swept into the parlour and tugged Roxxi in with her. ”So gracious of you,” she drawled. ”I’ll bet you’ll love that. A chance to torture me for a little while.” No more than she deserved. In the seat moments later, as the moon design she’d spotted on the wall of the reception area was being stencilled onto her ribs, a sense of déjà vu hit so strong it almost choked her. She’d never been brave enough to get a tattoo before, but the pain as the needle began to pierce her skin was so familiar that she almost welcomed it, and her sister’s jabs. ”A plant would have been better?” Giorgia asked through gritted teeth. The moon had been all she could see once she’d spotted it, the very thing her life revolved around. Too on the nose? Maybe, but it felt so right.

Later, over the second jug of margaritas, Giorgia shrugged, not sure how to answer her sister’s question. Out of all the designs it had felt right, as though she could already see a phantom version of it on her skin as she had peeled her shirt off. ”It’s everything,” Giorgia finally murmured. ”Maybe. A reminder to myself who I am…” She was already shrugging though, trying to steer the conversation aside because no matter how hard she tried to rationalise it, she couldn’t quite get a grip on the words in her mind.

It was no clearer by the time they got back. Maybe Roxxi turning the blowtorch on her skin would clear things up, blurring away the callous that felt like it had built up over her mind. Milky images moved behind it as she peeled her jacket away, her purse dropping to the floor in a way that usually would have had her wincing. Emiliano’s face twisting in rage, another looking on reverentially as a needle moved over her skin, thin fingers covering the skin hers now went to as though she could feel something more than the ink there. Giorgia tugged her blouse out of the way again, worrying at the edges of the dressing that had been placed over her fresh tattoo.

”Hmm?” she muttered, brows drawing together. Roxxi had been talking, but her hearing had been as murky as her memory. She looked up, trying for a smile, but it was faint. ”Chase…” she started, knowing it would have been her sister’s one topic of conversation. Despite Emiliano’s reservations, his vicious attempts at controlling her sister, she had fallen in love with the one man she wasn’t supposed to. She had moved on after Emiliano had tried to hand pick a man for her, she could do the same, couldn’t she? She had, not just once, she had never moved on from him, but she had removed the eternal claim she’d stamped on her skin.

Nemo.

Dark eyes skittered around Roxxi’s apartment, looking for some sign as the world seemed to shift under her feet. ”He was there when I got it done,” she whispered, her eyes filling as she looked at her sister again. ”He was devastated when he realised I’d burned it away. I lost him, Roxana, I lost him. This was getting him back. He should be here to see it. He … Nemo … he was here.” Her hands patted the air as she turned away, looking for some sign of him. If he had heard her sister talking about where things were going with Chase his scarred face would have twisted with disgust, but how were they so different to Roxxi and Chase? They were never supposed to be together. Emiliano would be just as angry, but it hadn’t mattered, because he had still loved her and they had a chance.

One last turn had her facing her sister, but it wasn’t Roxana she saw standing there. In the corner of the room, in shadows deeper than there should have been, she saw him. That rangy body, a face too delicate to look as though it could support the damage that had been carved into it. Her eyes burned at the sight of him, her ribs flaring into life as she threw herself towards him. ”Amore mio, amore mio bellissimo.” Words of love sobbed into the hollow of her throat as she held on to him.

Tagged: ROXANNE BRASCHI * Word Count: 1179
Translation: My love, my beautiful love