Donnaiolo

            “As to the deceit perpetrated upon women, let it pass, for, when love is in the way, men and women as a general rule dupe each other.”

                        -Giacomo Casanova

donnaiolo m. (plural donnaioli) Italian term for philanderer, womanizer

            “I don’t think he would do that,” Clarissa lied. Her throat closed and she couldn’t swallow.

            “Well, I saw ‘em.” Cousin Francesca held Clarissa’s elbow for comfort as she tried to make of what Francesca had just confessed. Her cousin’s strong perfumed scent always seemed to calm her down. But Clarissa couldn’t feel. Instead, she stared off at the blank wall that mirrored her empty heart.

            She fell in love with Donny Moretti when their parents introduced them at a family dinner party four years before. He was handsome and tall with dark brown hair that was combed forward and over to one side. He smiled at her and they laughed at the thought of their parents trying to set them up. They sat next to each other during dinner and talked about their aspirations of being famous journalists. After dinner, Donny had taken her to the back porch where her parents used to read her bedtime stories as a little bambina. She would always watch the stars imagining how vast the universe was. On this particular evening the stars had been more vibrant than ever. Donny sat on the ledge and she stared deep into his striking green eyes.

            Now she stared at the blank, faded wall, as Donny’s new wife.

            “Donny was all over that puttana, kissing all of-“

            “I don’t need to know the details,” Clarissa choked. She blinked and held her eyes closed longer than she should have. “It’s not Lucille’s fault. It’s Donny’s. He’s always been this way.”

            “Then why’d you just marry the donnaiolo?” Francesca asked. Clarissa could find no real good answer.

            “I fell in love with him,” she said, more like a question than an answer. Her uncertainty numbed her.       

            “I won’t tell nobody,” Francesca assured her. “You just do what you need to do.”

            “I wish I knew what-“

            “Clarissa!” It was Donny. His deep voice trailed through the back door and into the kitchen. He sounded so distant. “Clarissa, my love!”

            Clarissa froze. She didn’t know what to do. She looked at Francesca, praying for some kind of savior, some kind of answer. But Francesca simply winked and turned to the back door. Clarissa could see Francesca’s dark wavy hair shine with the sun as she made her way down the porch steps. Her family could never tell the two girls apart, and this made Clarissa and Francesca even closer. At the moment she wished she was Francesca. She could have been enjoying the antipasti or dancing to the live music with her little niece. Clarissa had to confront her new husband, and this made the emptiness in her heart grow even more. Donny entered the room.

            “Bella.” Donny smiled in his beautiful way. Clarissa stared at his feet. They pounded hard on the ground under his weight as he walked towards her. She moved her eyes to his knees that appeared strong and sturdy. She made her way up to his stomach that became firm every time they made love, and then up to his chest that always became a little visible when he wore his polos. He was so beautiful. Finally, they met eyes. His green with her brown. “Where were you, sweetheart? I was looking all over for you.”

            “Donny,” Clarissa said trying to find the words that would come next. “Donny. I love you.”

            “I love you, too, baby.” He reached his hand out to caress hers. But she immediately lifted her hand and brought it to her eyes trying to cover what she felt inside.

            “Donny. How was it?”

            “How was what?” She couldn’t say it, but suddenly found the courage.

            “Lucille.” Donny’s eyes opened a little more than usual and the color in them seemed to disappear.

            “What are you talking about?” Clarissa saw into him and recognized the panic in his voice. He leaned in to kiss her.

            “Don’t touch me, Donny. Don’t try to kiss me, don’t try to make it up to me.” Clarissa’s temper was growing. “I saw you with her,” Clarissa lied. How many times can you lie to yourself in one day, she thought. Just be straightforward and truthful.

            “Can’t you—“

            “I don’t understand, Donny. I thought you loved me,” Clarissa said with tears beginning to stream down her made-up face.

            “Baby, I didn’t go near Lucille. She is an old friend of mine and she was only congratulating me for our-“

            “Donny! If you call kissing her neck a congratulations, then you can call our marriage over and done with!” Clarissa used her right hand to wipe her wet eyes, but her make-up only smeared more.

            “Darlin’, you know I love you,” Donny said. “We should be celebrating!” Clarissa leaned back and two loose nails from the living room wall caught onto the lace of her white dress. Clarissa slid down the wall and collapsed in a heap on the floor. She watched as Donny’s mouth moved at a sickening pace, but she tuned him out. Instead, she listened to their family and friends in their backyard and thought to herself. She had always known.

            Clarissa remembered the moment Donny proposed to her. It was everything a proposal should be. He had taken her to the most lavish restaurant in town called Migliore. There was a jazz band playing and Donny had asked her to dance. They spent over an hour whirling and swaying and holding each other close. Finally, the whole restaurant grew quiet, and Donny went down on one knee and asked her to be his wife. Clarissa had looked into his eyes and knew that he was the one, knew that he would take care of her and give her a family and above all, love. But at the same moment that she looked into him, he turned his eyes away for a brief second. A brief second too long. She could see it in the way his left eye squinted and became hungry. He was looking at the jazz band’s singer behind Clarissa. Another woman. All of the eyes in the room glared at Clarissa and she couldn’t say no. She loved him and it was better to be with somebody in life than nobody. She didn’t want to be called a failure. But she had always known. He would forever be a cheater and break her heart.

            As she listened to the guests outside in the backyard, she could imagine what people would think if she left Donny right now. Her mother would yell at her and say, “Clarissa, you never keep a man! How canayou do this to us?” Her father wouldn’t say anything for a week. Her aunts would complain about all the time and money they spent on the wedding. Her mother’s friends would go to church and pray for her. They would say, “Che cosa triste,” and bring the tips of their right fingers sharply together while shaking their hand violently. They would never see it her way because men ruled her society. She usually did as she was told and that was that.

            Clarissa could hear their thrilled murmurs outside in response to an announcement that cake was going to be served. She couldn’t stop crying. Finally, she took a deep breath.

            “I thought you would change,” Clarissa said, trying not to look up at Donny. Her crying had slowed down and her tears began to dry. “You told me it would be different, that I was your only one. I guess I was blind, Donny.”

            “Sweetie, you know I wouldn’t--“

            “Donny. Be quiet. I don’t want to hear anymore excuses.” Clarissa tried to stay composed but the tremble in her voice said otherwise. “I tried to tell myself that it would stop once we were married, but I don’t think I can trust you anymore. How will I ever know if you’re telling the truth? How will I know if you’re on a business trip or if you’re sleeping with another woman? How will I know if our children don’t sleep at night because their daddy doesn’t love their mommy? How can I love myself, Donny? How can I be true to myself and to you?” Donny didn’t know how to respond. He tried to offer her a hand as she began to stand up from her sitting position on the floor, but Clarissa pushed it away, and got up on her own. She walked from the living room to the sunlit dining room where the voices from outside were more pronounced. She took a glass from the table and poured some lemonade from the pitcher into it. Donny kept talking to her. Clarissa looked into the clear, yellow liquid and hoped that it would bring her some happiness. Maybe, she thought, it would be sweet, and she would forget that any of this happened. She would be replenished. Clarissa pulled the glass to her mouth and the coolness made her shiver. As she poured the drink into her mouth, she was overcome with bitterness. The lemonade tasted old and dry. It was more like a desert than a sunny wedding day.

            “Clarissa, are you even listening to me?” Clarissa turned to look at Donny dead in the eye.

            “No.”

            Clarissa started to walk towards the front door, but turned around before she reached the couch. “You can have your ring back, and save your family’s money.” A tiny piece of metal flew through the air and hit Donny on his chest. Before he could say, “I love you,” the front screen door swung closed, and Donny watched as his bride disappeared from his view.

            Donny heard a scratching noise near the staircase and turned around. It was Lucille.

            “Lucille, baby, what a surprise.” Lucille entered the small living room only seconds after Clarissa had left. “I thought I heard you calling my name. My heart told me this was our lucky day.” Donny smiled as he grabbed Lucille’s behind and guided her upstairs. He didn’t even look back.