Status: Some aren't at all like they seem.
The Unforgettable
Loose Grip
(BACK TO GIANNA'S POV)
I’ve had the best day of my life today. The storm finally rolled over at midnight, we fell asleep to the rain and thunder last night cuddled close. This morning Carlo woke me up at 6:45 to wrap up in a blanket cuddled close with him and swing in the hammock to watch the sunrise.
I fell back asleep a little afterwards, comfortable bundled in the blanket wrapped in his warmth, with the cool breeze blowing against my face and the sound of the waves crashing in my ears.
Afterwards we take our time getting ready, go for breakfast at a bistro. Then we drive around sightseeing, we don’t get out of the car much because of my complaining about the wind and how I’m cold. Around two we stopped for lunch, afterwards we went to the grocery store, decided that we would cook dinner together. We made sausage potato lasagna which I had never heard of before and it was surprisingly really good.
Now we sit at the table sipping sweet wine from our glasses.
“Who taught you how to cook?” I ask.
Carlo swallows and places his glass down, “mia madre.”
Tonight is the most I’ve heard Carlo speak in Italian, I think it’s because we’re a little tipsy. We started on the bottle when we first started cooking, I was on my third glass by the time we finally sat and ate, I’m not sure how many he had, at least as many as me. I don’t know he seems a little off, anxious or something.
He licks his lips, “and you my dear?”
“My mom and sister. My mom showed me the basics, my sister was more experimental.”
He smiles and we sip from our glasses I keep thinking about Italy and the language.
“Ooh!” I exclaim. “What are some Italian curse words?”
He laughs tilting his head, “curse words? Mature aren’t you?”
I roll my eyes, he laughs more then starts naming off different curse words.
“You seem to like this word for one of it’s meanings in English, cazzo. Guess what it means.”
I hum, “use it in a sentence.”
“Che cazzo fai?” he says it in a demeaning tone.
“Uh. . .” I ponder. “A word I like you said, um, I don’t know, fuck?”
That’s my favorite curse word.
He bursts into laughter and claps his hands together once nodding, “yes, it can also mean dick as well, or shit. Whatever fits the occassion.”
Hearing him curse is the weirdest thing, especially with that accent.
“What did your sentence mean?” I ask.
He laughs and closes his eyes, “what the fuck are you doing?”
I laugh too and he shakes his head, “I feel dirty using such inappropriate words in front of you.”
I shrug still smiling, “don’t be, I curse all of the time. What’s, go fuck yourself?”
“Vaffanculo!” he responds.
“Vaffanculo!” I repeat.
He laughs harder, I haven’t seen him this giggly before, this is too cute.
“Do another one,” I giggle.
“Stronza, is bitch, stronzo is uh like dickhead although it actually means poop.”
He both bust a gut at that, as I gasp for air I ask for another.
“Uh, leccaculo is what I’d refer to your husband as, or stronzino. . . Means one is a kiss ass, asshole.”
He laughs at his joke but I feel weird at the mention of Chris especially the way Carlo says it and stop laughing. He’s still drunkenly giggling as he sips more wine and I stand from the table and take my glass to the counter to refill it. I take a sip staring at the countertop, I notice Carlo has gotten quiet after a few swallows. I place my glass down and turn around to face him.
When I turn around I nearly have a heart attack because what I turn around to see is Carlo on the floor in front of me, at my feet, on one knee with a red velvet box in his hand.
Holy shit, this isn’t happening.
“Gianna,” he says softly.
I can’t do this.
“You are a magnificent girl and I am very lucky to have met.”
He can't do this.
“I love you very much, Gianna will you please, please do me the honor of marrying me?”
Carlo, please don’t do this.
He opens the box and the room shimmers in the reflection of this huge diamond ring. I’m speechless, I’m blown away and I’m terrified.
“I- I-”
He stares up at me expectantly with those drunken dreamy eyes. This is too much, this is unfair, why is he proposing? This is too fast.
“Carlo-”
“Just say yes,” he begs.
This is fucked up! This was supposed to be simple, we were just supposed to be in love not all of this extra shit.
“I don’t know, this is moving too fast!” I’m hysterical.
I watch his face falter, it reminds me of the day in the park with Chris. I can't take it, it's too much. I shake my head and hurry out of the room. I push out of the back glass doors and run down the beach trying not to be suffocated by my thoughts. When I’m a little bit away from his house I walk towards the water where it sloshes over my feet. I drop to my knees and break down in tears.
A wonderful, beautiful, perfect man just proposed to me and I’m in tears because I can’t tell him yes. I can’t tell him yes because I’m a selfish sick human being. If I marry Carlo. . . I’ll have to tell Chris that I’ve been with Carlo this whole time, I’ll have to tell him that there’s no way that we’ll ever fix anything ever. I’ll have to close the door on everything we’ve ever had since 10th grade. I’ll have to make him feel the pain he made me feel just a few months ago. I’ll have to watch that look in his eye and that little twinge of hope dissipate.
I’ve never been a mean person, even if someone hurts me I talk a big game about revenge but I can’t hurt another person. I don’t think I’ll be able to do this to Chris when it comes down to it. No matter how much I love Carlo. But I'm hurting Carlo just the same. . . He wants me so much that he fucking proposed and he's perfect! I shouldn’t be with either of them. . . Chris doesn’t deserve me and I don’t deserve Carlo. He deserves someone that can love him fully, no doubts, not selfish, not destructive. He needs someone to love him the right way and I’m not that person.
I’ll fuck it up eventually just like I fucked things up with Chris.
I’ve had the best day of my life today. The storm finally rolled over at midnight, we fell asleep to the rain and thunder last night cuddled close. This morning Carlo woke me up at 6:45 to wrap up in a blanket cuddled close with him and swing in the hammock to watch the sunrise.
I fell back asleep a little afterwards, comfortable bundled in the blanket wrapped in his warmth, with the cool breeze blowing against my face and the sound of the waves crashing in my ears.
Afterwards we take our time getting ready, go for breakfast at a bistro. Then we drive around sightseeing, we don’t get out of the car much because of my complaining about the wind and how I’m cold. Around two we stopped for lunch, afterwards we went to the grocery store, decided that we would cook dinner together. We made sausage potato lasagna which I had never heard of before and it was surprisingly really good.
Now we sit at the table sipping sweet wine from our glasses.
“Who taught you how to cook?” I ask.
Carlo swallows and places his glass down, “mia madre.”
Tonight is the most I’ve heard Carlo speak in Italian, I think it’s because we’re a little tipsy. We started on the bottle when we first started cooking, I was on my third glass by the time we finally sat and ate, I’m not sure how many he had, at least as many as me. I don’t know he seems a little off, anxious or something.
He licks his lips, “and you my dear?”
“My mom and sister. My mom showed me the basics, my sister was more experimental.”
He smiles and we sip from our glasses I keep thinking about Italy and the language.
“Ooh!” I exclaim. “What are some Italian curse words?”
He laughs tilting his head, “curse words? Mature aren’t you?”
I roll my eyes, he laughs more then starts naming off different curse words.
“You seem to like this word for one of it’s meanings in English, cazzo. Guess what it means.”
I hum, “use it in a sentence.”
“Che cazzo fai?” he says it in a demeaning tone.
“Uh. . .” I ponder. “A word I like you said, um, I don’t know, fuck?”
That’s my favorite curse word.
He bursts into laughter and claps his hands together once nodding, “yes, it can also mean dick as well, or shit. Whatever fits the occassion.”
Hearing him curse is the weirdest thing, especially with that accent.
“What did your sentence mean?” I ask.
He laughs and closes his eyes, “what the fuck are you doing?”
I laugh too and he shakes his head, “I feel dirty using such inappropriate words in front of you.”
I shrug still smiling, “don’t be, I curse all of the time. What’s, go fuck yourself?”
“Vaffanculo!” he responds.
“Vaffanculo!” I repeat.
He laughs harder, I haven’t seen him this giggly before, this is too cute.
“Do another one,” I giggle.
“Stronza, is bitch, stronzo is uh like dickhead although it actually means poop.”
He both bust a gut at that, as I gasp for air I ask for another.
“Uh, leccaculo is what I’d refer to your husband as, or stronzino. . . Means one is a kiss ass, asshole.”
He laughs at his joke but I feel weird at the mention of Chris especially the way Carlo says it and stop laughing. He’s still drunkenly giggling as he sips more wine and I stand from the table and take my glass to the counter to refill it. I take a sip staring at the countertop, I notice Carlo has gotten quiet after a few swallows. I place my glass down and turn around to face him.
When I turn around I nearly have a heart attack because what I turn around to see is Carlo on the floor in front of me, at my feet, on one knee with a red velvet box in his hand.
Holy shit, this isn’t happening.
“Gianna,” he says softly.
I can’t do this.
“You are a magnificent girl and I am very lucky to have met.”
He can't do this.
“I love you very much, Gianna will you please, please do me the honor of marrying me?”
Carlo, please don’t do this.
He opens the box and the room shimmers in the reflection of this huge diamond ring. I’m speechless, I’m blown away and I’m terrified.
“I- I-”
He stares up at me expectantly with those drunken dreamy eyes. This is too much, this is unfair, why is he proposing? This is too fast.
“Carlo-”
“Just say yes,” he begs.
This is fucked up! This was supposed to be simple, we were just supposed to be in love not all of this extra shit.
“I don’t know, this is moving too fast!” I’m hysterical.
I watch his face falter, it reminds me of the day in the park with Chris. I can't take it, it's too much. I shake my head and hurry out of the room. I push out of the back glass doors and run down the beach trying not to be suffocated by my thoughts. When I’m a little bit away from his house I walk towards the water where it sloshes over my feet. I drop to my knees and break down in tears.
A wonderful, beautiful, perfect man just proposed to me and I’m in tears because I can’t tell him yes. I can’t tell him yes because I’m a selfish sick human being. If I marry Carlo. . . I’ll have to tell Chris that I’ve been with Carlo this whole time, I’ll have to tell him that there’s no way that we’ll ever fix anything ever. I’ll have to close the door on everything we’ve ever had since 10th grade. I’ll have to make him feel the pain he made me feel just a few months ago. I’ll have to watch that look in his eye and that little twinge of hope dissipate.
I’ve never been a mean person, even if someone hurts me I talk a big game about revenge but I can’t hurt another person. I don’t think I’ll be able to do this to Chris when it comes down to it. No matter how much I love Carlo. But I'm hurting Carlo just the same. . . He wants me so much that he fucking proposed and he's perfect! I shouldn’t be with either of them. . . Chris doesn’t deserve me and I don’t deserve Carlo. He deserves someone that can love him fully, no doubts, not selfish, not destructive. He needs someone to love him the right way and I’m not that person.
I’ll fuck it up eventually just like I fucked things up with Chris.