Page 37 of Sweet Prison
Why does it matter if Adriano’s wife cheats on him? If the stupid motherfucker knows it and does nothing about it, he’s a fucking sissy. Is there something between you two? If he’s laid a—
Fuck. Fuck.FUCK!
I flush this goddamned attempt at a note down the toilet.
***
Letter #208 (draft 3)
Can you find out Adriano’s daily routine? See if he likes to take walks during rush hour. Could you get me the day and maybe the approximate time? Please? I’m just curious to know what he does with his free time.
Crumbling the sheet of paper, I stuff it into the loud-fucking-breather’s throat. The dickhead shouldn’t have walked by my workout bench. Next time he’ll know. The fuck.
This is ridiculous,that irritating inner asshole comments.Maybe you should think about talking to someone. You know, like a professional.
“I swear, I’ll find a way to evict your ass from my head.”
Good luck with that.
***
Letter #208
Zahara,
Even if I knew the consequences of my actions in advance, I’m not sure I could have controlled myself. When I held Elmo in my arms, felt his blood oozing through my fingers... My fingers, that were covering his no-longer beating heart… I knew in my soul there was nothing that could be done for him. And I just lost it.
I was well aware of the countless witnesses to what I was about to do, but that didn’t stop me from offing the motherfucker who shot your brother right there on the spot. It was as if I was seized by some animalistic urge. If I was thinking rationally, and with hindsight, knowing that I’d lose eighteen years of my life, I would have waited to kill that asshole until no one else was around. But clearly, higher reasoning wasn’t something I possessed at that time. Logic didn’t stand a chance as I watched Elmo die.
As for your sister—she knew the deal. I didn’t trick her into accepting it, nor lie about what she’d face. So, no. I don’t feel bad. I am, however, sorry if that disappoints you. But something tells me it doesn’t.
You know me well enough not to be surprised. And you also know that it had to be done, despite it being a bitter pill to swallow. You know our world. How it works. You always have. You’ve been treading these waters for years, which is completely my fault. And I do regret that.
If I could turn back time and fix my one mistake in the past, I wouldn’t change my actions on the day Elmo died. I would use that one chance to stop myself from writing you my first letter. Or I’d burn that letter to ash before it ever got sent. Because the one thing I truly regret in this life is involving you in my mess and putting you in danger. For that, I hope you’ll find a way to forgive me someday.
I’m very sorry to hear that Leone isn’t feeling well. Let’s hope the slimy pig gets better. There is always a Plan B, but I would rather not have to put it into motion.
A friend of mine will reach out to Nera in the near future. Please make sure he is granted the favor he asks of her.
M.
PS: Does Adriano visit often?
Letter #241
Dear Massimo,
Lucia said her first word today. It was “no.” I’m not surprised—that kid is a handful. Iris almost had a heart attack a few days ago when Lucia got ahold of my jewelry box and somehow managed to break one of the necklaces Dad bought me. It took me a while to convince her that it doesn’t need to be fixed, I’ll never wear it anyway. Seeing those trinkets always leaves a sour taste in my mouth. It reminds me that Dad never remembered I can’t wear anything other than platinum. I mentioned it to him at least a dozen times, but he still justkept buying gold pieces. He probably thought gold looked more extravagant, and I simply stopped bringing it up after a while.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about Dad a lot. I spent so many years being angry at him, blaming him for always putting the business first, instead of his daughters. But now, as days drag on without him, I keep remembering the good times. All the piggyback rides he used to give me and Nera. And how he’d let me tie his tie for him, especially after Mom died. He might not have been the best parent… Actually, that’s a given, but… I don’t know. I think I judged him too harshly. Or, maybe, I just want to remember him as a better man than he was.
Speaking of good times… I’m working on a super cute jacket for Lucia. With puff sleeves and sequins on the lapels. I’ll probably use pink velvet. She’s going to look adorable! (It makes the hassle I went through with the store’s customer service reps after my order was screwed up worth it!) My only worry is that velvet should only be dry-cleaned, and this kid can be a bit of a disaster.
Which reminds me, Peppe says he’ll be spending next weekend doing laundry. It wasn’t in his original plans, but something happened—not sure what—and I guess it’s serious, because he mentioned he’ll need to use bleach to handle the stains.
And since I’m telling you about all this cleaning, here’s another thing: Nera had to send her car to be washed twice this week. Your buddy managed to remove all the sticky grime, but as you cautioned, he did quote her a higher price on her last visit. The prepaid services package she had has been used up. Since it was urgent, Nera had to accept the new rate, but she’ll probably talk with you about it on Thursday. Maybe there’s a way to convince your pal to give her another “friend discount.”
In other news, Batista is getting worse. Remember that Plan B you mentioned? It might be time to start seriously considering it.