"Hands off please, cara. This one isn't for you."
The words seemed entirely foreign to her as Celestina withdrew her hands from the ornately wrapped present. Around it was a grand assortment of other gifts that had been placed neatly under the tall living room evergreen.
On Christmas morning, a servant had woken the girls up, announcing that La Befana—the kind old witch that flew all across Italy the night before Christmas to deliver presents to the good children—had left heaps upon heaps for them. Celestina had been the first out of the two to ready up and race downstairs, having not bothered to change out of her nightgown. Mamma and Papa were already there—Papa was lounging on a nearby armchair to watch while Mamma was sitting cross-legged on the floor.
"Which ones are mine? I want to open them now!" Celestina insisted, dropping down to crawl under the sprawled lower branches of the evergreen. It was then her eyes had fallen on a beautiful box wrapped in red with gold trimmings. Automatically, she had reached for it, and that was when Mamma spoke up.
"Not for me?" Celestina repeated. "Who is it for then? Alessandra?"
"Yes, so leave it for her to unwrap."
"But I want it!"
Mamma's eyes flashed. A gentle glare adorned her face as she said, "That is Alessandra's present, not yours. Don't touch it."
The look on Mamma's face immediately made Celestina pipe down, but obstinacy fueled by years of being treated with very little denial made her act up again. This time, she shot a look at Papa as she loudly protested, "Papa, I want this present! Make Alessandra give it to me!"
This time, however, Papa did not bend to her will. "Look here, these are your presents, my dear. Look how big this one is. Why don't you open it first?"
Celestina gave into Papa's suggestion and scooted over to the box that stood at nearly two feet tall. She gripped the seam of the wrapping paper and tore it diagonally down. From the partially revealed picture on the box, it appeared to be some sort of large dollhouse set.
She had just pulled off the last of the wrapping paper from the dollhouse when Alessandra rushed into the living room. "You started without me?" she pouted, also dropping down onto her hands and knees to get to the presents.
"Because you were too slow!" Celestina shot back, turning the box around so she could examine its front.
"Here—this is one of yours, cara," Mamma told Alessandra, handing her a present wrapped in gold. "Look how many there are this year! Looks like you two were especially good for La Befana, weren't you?" When Alessandra took the present, one of Mamma's hands reached up to stroke her hair. It was then Alessandra's eyes snapped up to her mother. Suddenly, Mamma's smiled faltered for just a heartbeat and her hand quickly pulled back before she regained her composure and gently caressed Alessandra's hair. Alessandra ignored her mother as she placed the present in her lap and carelessly ripped the wrapping apart.
This year, La Befana had gotten them a plethora of toys, jewelry, and sweets. When everything had been unwrapped, leaving only discarded strands of ribbon and wads of wrapping paper, Celestina sat back with one of her boxes of Swiss chocolate and began nibbling on a few pieces.
"Alessandra," Mamma said, reaching under the tree. "There's one more here for you." Celestina stopped chewing on her chocolate when she recognized the red paper and gold trim.
"Why is this one different?" Alessandra asked, taking the present. Celestina could tell that despite its small size, it seemed rather heavy.
"Because," Mamma answered, "this one isn't from La Befana. This one is from me."
Alessandra suddenly paused. "For me?"
"Yes, sweetheart. Open it up."
Alessandra looked down at her present, and then slowly peeled away at the paper. The beautiful red and gold wrapping gave way to a wooden box. Around the box were the carved reliefs of the scenic Italian countryside—gently rolling hills dotted with bushy trees and blooming crocuses. Alessandra took a moment to trace the carved wood. As she did, Mamma said, "I've had this since I was a little girl. A few years ago, it broke, and since then it's been sitting forgotten in the back of my closet. Last week I had a friend who's a watchmaker take a look at it and get it working again."
"Why would you need a watchmaker to fix a wooden box?"
"Open the lid, Alessandra."
Carefully, the little girl did as her mother said. As the lid was lifted, mechanisms within the box raised a small platform up into view. Atop it was a small ballerina standing on tiptoe with one leg lifted and her arms poised elegantly in the air. When the platform clicked into place, additional unseen gears within the box began to turn. Soft, sweet notes of a song emerged from within the box. Celestina immediately recognized the melodic lullaby—Fa La Nana Bambin. When they had been younger, Mamma would gently sing it to them on the nights they had trouble sleeping.
As she watched the ballerina spin slowly on her platform to the music, Celestina grew sick with envy. But that wasn't the end of it.
"There's a little drawer at the bottom. See the handle?" Mamma pointed out. "I left something in there for you too." Alessandra found the knob and pulled the drawer out. Reaching in, she plucked out a necklace. Its row of pearls glistened in the light. At the sight of it, Celestina scowled while Alessandra's eyes lit up. Mamma took the necklace and draped it around Alessandra's neck.
"It's said in ancient folklore that pearls are the crystallized tears of the gods," Mamma said. Alessandra gingerly touched the round, milky white gems at her collarbones.
Unable to control herself any longer, Celestina leapt up to her feet. "That's stupid!" she snapped. Startled eyes shot towards her, and she continued, "That box is stupid! That necklace is stupid!"
"Celestina," Mamma said firmly. "A lady does not speak in that tone. Apologize."
"Why didn't you get me a present?"
"Alessandra deserves it more than you do," Mamma replied. "Especially after what you did last night in front of everyone."
"That's not fair!"
"Celestina." This time it was Papa, his voice growing formidable.
"I hate you all!" Celestina said, kicking over a nearby box. She pointed at her sister. "You ruined Christmas, Lessy!" Before Mamma or Papa could say anything else, she ran upstairs to her room and slammed her door.
The Christmas Day tantrum seemed like a distant memory as the two sisters walked hand-in-hand down the busy sidewalk. Three days had passed since Christmas, and already the holiday cheer had wilted away to make way for anticipation of the new year.
Today was chilly with overcast clouds. The two girls were dressed in fur parkas with frilly scarves and knee-high boots. Their mother, her hands hidden deep in the pockets of her long white trench coat, followed behind them.
It was a quiet, leisurely day. Mamma had taken the girls out for a stroll down the high streets of Milan to window shop the many shops and get manicures at the salon.
Alessandra was quiet as she walked, holding the wool-clad hand of her sister. Her breath came out in soft white puffs in front of her face. She could feel the weight of the pearl necklace on her skin underneath the scarf.
As they passed under the shadow of a building, Alessandra suddenly stopped. She looked up at the pale walls of the building next to them. Beside her, Celestina also paused and glanced at her sister. Then, she too looked up.
The building had several windows and, not including its topmost tower, stood at three stories tall. It really didn't stand out at all compared to the plethora of dramatic, ancient architecture neighboring it. Alessandra couldn't tell what it was that compelled her to ask, "Mamma, what's this place?"
"This?" Mamma said, coming to a slow stop behind the girls. "It's a cathedral, cara. The… let's see… ah, the San Bernardino."
"I want to go inside," Alessandra proclaimed.
"No, I don't want to go into some boring old church! We're supposed to go shopping!" Celestina protested.
"We have all day to do that," Mamma said. "Let's go inside and warm up a little. Besides, I'm curious too—we've passed this several times but have never gone in."
Celestina huffed but continued to hold Alessandra's hand as they headed off the main street and dipped into a small alleyway between the church and its neighboring building. They found a small set of dark-colored double doors and went inside.
The main room of the church was radiant with its ivory walls. A myriad of paintings adorned the walls, from small ovular ones to grand ones that were several feet tall. Chairs were organized in rows at the center of the room, all facing towards the grand altar at the end.
Aside from the three of them, the church appeared to be completely empty. They took a few moments to circle the room and look at the various paintings depicting biblical scenes. There were also portraits—likely those of notable priests and noblemen. Then, Mamma beckoned for the girls to follow her and took a seat on one of the chairs. "Come now, darlings," she said. "Let's take a moment for prayer."
Celestina sat next to Mamma, and Alessandra next to her. Mamma and Celestina both bowed their heads, their hands folded over one another on their laps. Alessandra too lowered her head. But instead of praying, she kept her eyes open as she stared at her hands resting atop her lap. Slowly, she lifted her head to peek at Mamma and Celestina. They still hadn't moved.
Her gaze gravitated towards the right and settled on the entrance to a small corridor. Alessandra stared, puzzled, and wondered why she hadn't noticed it the first time they had gone around the room. She quickly shot Mamma and her sister another quick glance before quietly scooting off her chair. Careful to keep her steps from echoing in the grand chamber, Alessandra went towards the entrance of the corridor. She looked down and noticed how the ugly concrete beneath her boots eventually made way for hundreds upon hundreds of small, multi-colored tiles. They were like stars, she realized. She was walking on stars.
Alessandra suddenly noticed she was no longer walking through a corridor, given that the close walls had opened up She looked up and stopped in her tracks. Her eyes climbed the walls. Hundreds of empty sockets seemed to stare back at her.
The cathedral that sat largely unnoticed on the side of one of Milan's main streets had, several centuries ago, been built on an ancient hospital site. When a plague had swept across the city, the church had housed a large number of patients. It fast became over encumbered with the sick and, eventually, the dead. When there was no more room in the connected cemetery, one room in the church had been converted into an ossuary. The cathedral's full name was La Chiesa San Bernardino alle Ossa.
The Saint Bernard Church to the Bones.
Alessandra took another tentative step towards the center of the room, turning her head to observe every wall. Covering entire spans of the walls were dark brown bones and skulls arranged decoratively like the paintings in the main chamber—like macabre works of art.
It was deathly quiet. Alessandra couldn't even hear her own footsteps as she stepped over to the nearest wall. Behind thin, metal grating were rows upon rows of skulls. Alessandra stopped in front of a particular one and cocked her head.
"You were a person, weren't you?" she asked softly. "With eyes in those sockets and a brain in that head? A face over that hideous skull? Were you pretty? Did people like you? Were you mean to your sister?" The skull didn't respond. Alessandra giggled softly to herself.
A soft gasp caught her attention. Alessandra looked over at the corridor entrance and saw Celestina, her hands over her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at the walls. Celestina took a step back, and softly uttered, "Are those real?"
"Yes," Alessandra said, looking affectionately back at her skull companion.
"That's gross! It's so gross! Why are there so many?"
"Don't be silly, Cellie," Alessandra chided, looking around. "It's pretty."
"Pretty?" Celestina repeated. She took another step back, slowly hiding in the shadow of the corridor. "I… I don't want to be here. It's like they're looking at me. C-come on, Mamma says we're going shopping now." Quickly, she turned and retreated back towards the main chamber.
Alessandra hesitated, taking another moment to take in the sights within the ossuary. Suddenly, she smiled. "She's scared of you," she said, her voice echoing in the still room. The skulls remained a silent audience. Alessandra turned and bent down, coming face to face with the skull behind the grate. "Isn't that funny?" She heard Mamma's voice calling from down the corridor and hurried towards it.
She didn't know how to respond to the sheepish look that crossed over Francesco's face. His lingering silence gave her a bad feeling, and her cheeks were slowly growing hot with embarrassment. Alessandra wished she could've had a way to take back words already spoken.
"Um…" Francesco began.
"It's okay," Alessandra replied lightly. "Some other time, maybe?"
"Er… yeah… maybe," Francesco said with a small shrug.
Alessandra smiled, trying desperately to hide her panic. "Okay. I'll… I'll see you later, Francesco."
"Yeah, sure," the boy replied quickly, suddenly turning away and leaving Alessandra alone by the canal. Dropping her smile, Alessandra stared blankly out into the water. She felt as though her world was crashing down around her. It might as well have been. To a 15-year-old, there was nothing more important than her crush. Especially if that crush was Francesco, the man of her dreams. She didn't know how things could get much worse.
And it did.
The chauffer had just pulled up in front of the house and allowed Alessandra to get out of the car. Dangling from her hand was the cute little bag that held the box of pastries from the bakery. Alessandra walked up the remaining stretch of the long driveway. As she passed by a row of topiary, she spotted a familiar motor scooter parked by the steps leading up to the front door. Eyes wide, Alessandra's heart began hammering as she raced inside. The main foyer was empty, but there were voices coming from upstairs.
When she went up and turned the corner, Alessandra heard a door close. She realized the sound had come from where her and Celestina's rooms were. Her excitement dwindled as she slowly made her way towards that short hallway. When she came upon the two doors, she saw that hers was ajar, as she'd left it earlier that day. Celestina's was closed. Alessandra turned her ear in the direction as she slowly crept towards it. She heard her sister. There was also a male voice.
Her heart dropped. Suddenly, Alessandra recklessly rushed to Celestina's door and threw it open. She found herself confronting two people perched atop the foot of the bed. Her mouth dropped slightly open as she met Francesco's eyes. The front of his shirt was unbuttoned and he had his arms around her sister.
Alessandra felt as though she couldn't breath in that moment. She closed her mouth, and then parted them to shakily whisper, "You two were… but you said… you said we…"
Celestina suddenly sprang up. "Lessy!" she screeched. "You're not supposed to be here. Get out!"
When Alessandra started crying, Francesco looked uncomfortable. "Maybe I should go," he suggested quietly.
"She was going to find out eventually!" Celestina shot back, walking towards the door. "I said get out!"
"How could… why would you do this, Cellie?" Alessandra sobbed. "You knew! You knew that I—!"
"We've been dating for two months now! He likes me! He doesn't like you! He told me he thinks you're creepy!" Celestina advanced towards Alessandra, making her back up. She placed a hand on the door. "But it's okay—at least you have that necklace from Mamma, don't you?" The door slammed shut.
The paper bag fell from Alessandra's hand and crashed on the ground. She hardly gave it a second look as she raced back downstairs, out the door, and around to an abandoned side of the house. There, she sat with her back pressed against the wall and her knees drawn up to hide her face.
I hate her! I HATE HER!
Celestina's words rang endlessly in her head. Francesco never liked her? But all those times… pointless. And he'd never told her, never bothered to break her heart the right way.
Alessandra lifted her head, staring with eyes as blank as they had been when they'd gazed into the canal. Not even Francesco liked her. No one did. So this was what it meant to be the entirely different animal.
In the spring of 1999 came the Amonte girls' seventeenth birthdays. Two Bugattis—one red and the other silver—were rolled into the garage under the cover of night. Of course, it wasn't long before they were discovered. How the girls begged for Papa to let them start driving already. They hadn't gotten their licenses yet, but they argued they had already learned all they needed to know. Just one quick little drive, they pleaded. Maybe two. Maybe a few more, without Papa knowing of course.
At first, Papa was steadfast. Quickly, however, his determination broke down and he let his daughters drive their cars—but only for a short lap around the house. Celestina and Alessandra were beside themselves with excitement. They jumped and squealed at the sight of the cars with their sleek designs and signature swoop along the sides. And getting behind the wheel was even better. The purr of the engine was subtle, belying its power. Just a touch on the accelerator sent the car flying smoothly without the driver behind the wheel so much as jolting.
Mamma and Papa stood on the front porch, watching Celestina zoom her red car around the circular driveway. They looked pleased at first, but Papa's hands flew up to grasp the sides of his head and Mamma's face turned ashen when the Bugatti nearly drove into the side of the house.
Alessandra was a bit more careful, not getting anywhere close to clipping anything. But as she sped back around to the front of the house, she drifted around the turn. Her back tires left a pair of thick black trails on the impeccable white concrete, which made Papa cover his face.
The girls rushed up to him, this time begging to drive again. Papa gave a weary smile. "Not today, bien-aimés, Come on inside, now. Let's leave the excitement for the party, shall we?" The birthday party for the Amonte girls was to be held in a few days' time. Papa had reserved the largest dining room in one of Milan's most extravagant, high-end restaurants.
Just like with every large event Alessandra's parents hosted, many of the guests would be unknown to her—friends of Mamma and Papa, some politicians she hardly cared about, and maybe a few people famous for one thing or another. Despite this, she was excited. That day was going to be for her, and that's what made it special even if she had to share it with Celestina.
Since that day she had found her with Francesco, Alessandra had tried her hardest to look past it all. She told herself that Celestina was not worth all the hate and agony. And somewhere out there, a better Francesco was waiting for her. One that would blow the old cruddy one dating her sister out of the water.
On the morning of the party, Alessandra went out to the salon to have her hair and makeup done. She was, of course, keeping her hair straight but had the stylist treat and flatiron it until it gleamed in the light and swayed like the hem of her empire-waist dress. Palettes upon palettes of makeup were brought out, presenting endless combination of colors. "Soft, innocent colors are good for a young girl like you," the stylist told her. "Nothing too strong, too dramatic. You're already a pretty little thing, and we don't want too much color covering that up."
"I want to meet someone," Alessandra told the woman.
"Oh, you won't have any trouble doing that," the stylist replied, dabbing the golden brown eye shadow onto her brush. "Take it from me—you'll want to carry a baton with you to fend off the hordes."
"A baton? That's not very lady-like," Alessandra said, imagining Mamma's face at the very idea of her daughter carrying such a distasteful weapon.
A sly smile pulled up the corner of the stylist's lips as she leaned forward. Alessandra closed her eyes and felt the soft bristles of the brush dab against her eyelid. "You know what a lady ought to do? Whatever the heck she wants." There was a pause as the stylist reloaded her brush. "But all jokes aside, I do wish you a very happy birthday, Signorina. I'm sure tonight is going to change your life."
When the stylist was finished, she let Alessandra look at herself in the wide mirror. She was happy with the way she looked—let Celestina have her curls. Reaching up, Alessandra touched the cold, round pearls resting just above her sequin-lined collar. She left the salon with her leather clutch handbag and stepped into the car that would bring her to the restaurant. During the ride, Alessandra pulled on her silver ankle-wrap stilettos. Then she sat back and took a deep breath. She watched Milan pass by the window and thought about what the stylist had told her.
After a few more minutes, the driver announced, "We're here, Signorina." The car pulled up to the front of the grand restaurant. Alessandra waited for the driver to come around the car and open her door. She took the hand offered, letting one stiletto touch the ground followed by the other.
"Happy birthday, Signorina Alessandra. At half past 12 I'll be here at front to take you and Signorina Celestina home."
Alessandra walked inside. The hostess led her past the main dining area and to the large reserved room in the back. There, Alessandra realized that Celestina had not arrived yet. The guests who had already arrived were in standing clusters around the room. Chatter filled the air. Alessandra could see Papa at the very front of the room surrounded by a group of unfamiliar people.
With her eyes darting from one stranger to another, Alessandra held her bag to her side and stepped forward into the dining room. Immediately, she spied a band of teenage boys. The ones facing her stopped their conversations at the sight of her, causing the others to look. Quickly, Alessandra lowered her eyes so they wouldn't know she had been watching and made a show of walking to one of the round, cloth-covered tables to take a seat. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the boys talk amongst themselves. One foot tapped against the floor as she waited.
Finally, one of them peeled away from the others. He took his time making his way over to Alessandra's table, trying to be as subtle as he could. Finally, he stopped by her. "You're, uh, Amonte, right? Happy birthday."
Alessandra looked up and smiled. "You're so sweet, you know."
The boy turned a bright shade of red. Alessandra wasn't used to such a reaction—it seemed more like the way Celestina would've been treated. Could you be my better Francesco? Alessandra sat up and asked the boy for his name. He introduced himself as Riccardo.
He wasn't bad, though his combed, straw-colored hair was starting to fall apart in certain places. Alessandra didn't mind the messy look. Maybe, she told herself, it was what she preferred. Smiling coyly, Alessandra sat back and crossed her legs. "Riccardo," she said sweetly. "I'm a little thirsty—can you go get me a glass of strawberry moscato?"
At her request, the boy immediately sprang up. "Sure," he said quickly. "I'll, uh, yeah, I'll be right back."
Left alone, Alessandra snuck a glance at the group of boys Riccardo had come from. She could tell from the way they quickly turned away that they had been watching her. Any one of them could be her Francesco, really. They were keen on her, and she could tell. Tonight had been the night she'd waited for her all her life—the night she'd finally know what it felt like to be loved.
It was a few minutes later when Alessandra spotted Riccardo making his way back to her, a glass of bubbly pink liquid in his hand. Smiling expectantly, Alessandra sat up and placed her hands on her knees. Suddenly, she saw Riccardo's eyes flicker away. He seemed to do a double take, and then stopped in his tracks as he stared towards the dining room entrance.
Alessandra looked. She wished she hadn't—because when she did, all her hopes of tonight being perfect were dashed.
She looked absolutely gorgeous in her dark red, long-sleeved bodycon dress. It hugged her figure in a way that seized attention. Her hair fell in elegantly curls down over one shoulder. And worst of all, she was laced arm-in-arm with the young man she walked in with. It broke Alessandra's heart to see how beautiful they both looked, twisting it until the pain made her want to scream out.
Looking around, she saw that Riccardo hadn't been the only one to stop what he was doing and stare. Unable to look any longer, she tore her gaze away. She saw Riccardo blink and seemingly return to the present. He didn't appear to notice how Alessandra glared as he continued to her table until he reached her. He offered her the glass and was startled when she suddenly jumped up to her feet, snatched up her handbag, and stormed away without a word.
The guests were given another half hour and mingle and allow the latecomers to arrive. When it was time to sit down for the starters, they moved towards the circular tables to take their seats. Alessandra refused to sit at the same table as her sister and moved across the dining room to find one a good distance away.
She did, and noticed how the gathering still remained at Celestina's side. When she and Francesco chose a table, the other seats around it quickly filled. When there was no more room at that table, adjacent ones were quickly claim. Slowly, guests moved across the rooms towards Alessandra, but more out of necessity to find empty seats.
Her fingers were white as she clutched the handbag in her lap. She stared down at the painted plate and silver cutlery lain out in front of her. Movement out of the corner of her eye told her someone had sat next to her. She looked up and saw Mamma.
"What are you doing all the way over here? Why aren't you sitting with Celestina?"
"This was supposed to be my birthday too," Alessandra mumbled.
"It still is. What are you talking about?" Mamma's concerned stare did little save irk Alessandra, and so she stared down at the plate again. "I saw you talking to a boy earlier, cara. He seemed nice. What was his name?"
"Mamma," Alessandra growled. Immediately, her mother dropped her questions. She sat up and painted a pleasant look over her face as people began taking seats around them.
As the courses were served, Alessandra found herself quite without appetite and lifelessly picked at her food. There was a lot of laughter coming from Celestina's table, though she didn't dare look over there. Quickly, Alessandra flagged over a waiter and asked for a glass of red. When it was brought to her, she downed it quickly. Mamma frowned and guests looked uncomfortably away. When the glass was empty, Alessandra asked for another.
"Cara," Mamma said quietly.
"Lay off, Mamma! This is my birthday!" Alessandra snapped. Another burst of laughter came from the other side of the room. Alessandra was getting absolutely sick of that sound as she emptied her second glass.
Dessert was simply a serving of small profiteroles, as the kitchen had promised a grand birthday cake to follow shortly after. Alessandra had sent the waiter away with the order for a third glass of wine when a dark red figure sauntered cheerily to her side. "Come on, Lessy!" Celestina chirped, grabbing Alessandra's arm. "Papa wants us to take photographs up front together! Let's go—before the cake comes out!"
Alessandra was too tipsy to argue. Besides, the sooner she got this over with, the better. She carelessly tossed her handbag onto the table. It hit the edge of her plate, causing the dessertspoon to clatter loudly. The legs of her chair scraped against the floor as she stood and was pulled in tow behind her sister.
The front of the dining room had been decorated elegantly with a series of draping tapestries, flowers, candles, and a large banner that read BUON COMPLEANNO. The girls stopped under the banner and posed according to the quick, snappish orders the photographer gave. The camera seemed to snap nonstop, at least to Alessandra's muddled ears. Finally, the flow of orders stopped. Beside her, Celestina began clapping her hands and jumping up and down. "Oooh, how beautiful!" she squealed.
The cake was being wheeled through the dining room towards the front. It was a two-tiered work of art—covered in soft, pale pink frosting. At the top was a bouquet of iced flowers, and the sides were decorated with lattice hearts made from fondant.
Celestina rushed up to it. Alessandra lagged behind and slowly made her way towards it. She was still aware of the camera's clicking. The waiter who had wheeled it out was now placing the small, silver candles intricately around the cake. When each was lit, the room dimmed. The air came alive as voices from all around the room sang. Celestina held her hands clasped in front of her chest. Alessandra stared at the flickering flames.
When the song was over, both girls leaned forward to blow out the candles. As Alessandra took her breath, she heard Celestina blow and saw the candles in front of her face quickly go out. Startled, she straightened up. With a scowl, she glared at Celestina. Upon seeing her sister's face, Celestina rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud," she dismissed. "You were too slow! Come on!" She picked the knife up. "Let's cut the cake! Oh, but…" She made a show of holding the knife against herself as she gazed down at the cake. "It's too pretty. I don't want to cut into it."
The guests laughed, much to Alessandra's bewilderment. There had been nothing funny about what Celestina had said.
"Come on, Lessy!" Celestina had raised the knife and held it still over the cake. Quickly, Alessandra reached forward and placed her hand over her sister's on the knife handle. She noticed Celestina beaming towards the photographer's raised camera and managed to force up a smile just in time as the click sounded.
As soon as the picture was taken, Alessandra pushed down. The knife sank through the cake until it hit the very bottom.
"Oh, you ruined it!" Celestina gasped.
"It's just a cake."
"First slice is mine!" Celestina quickly claimed, pulling the knife out of Alessandra's hand. It was passed to the waiter, who began cutting and passing out slices. The first two were given to the sisters, and as soon as Alessandra got hers she retreated back to her table. The glass of red she had ordered was waiting for her there. She finished that before she finished her cake. Now fairly intoxicated, Alessandra sat back in her chair and leaned a head heavily against her hand. Someone approached and sat in the chair next to her. It was Riccardo. Alessandra shot him an unamused glance out of the corner of her eye and she reached out and gripped her empty wine glass.
"Hey," he began, "how's your weekend looking? Because I was thinking maybe…"
Alessandra's eyes slid past him and looked to the other side of the room. Celestina and Francesco were standing at the front. She watched as Francesco fed her sister a bite of cake, and then they both laughed. The grip on the wine glass tightened.
Suddenly, she was furious. She was furious at the boy next to her for not being Francesco. She was furious at everyone for treating this like Celestina's birthday and not hers, and she was furious at Celestina for stealing this perfect night away from her.
"Get lost!" Alessandra suddenly snapped to Riccardo. He looked startled.
"Wh—?"
"I said get. Lost!"
"Hey, hey, cool it!" Riccardo shot back. He stood up and, before leaving, said, "I can see why you're the single one."
Alessandra gritted her teeth. Her eyes flew back to the front of the room. Rising to her feet, she kept the wine glass in her tight grip as she stormed towards her sister. Tears poured unrestrained from her eyes, pushing dark streaks down her face.
"Cellie!" she screamed. Eyes flew to her. Celestina and Francesco looked from one another to her. "This was supposed to be my birthday too!"
"Lessy?" Celestina said, scoffing airily. "You're a mess. How much did you drink?"
"You always just take and take and take! You've stolen everything from me! I'm sick of it! It's my birthday too!" She suddenly threw down the wine glass. It shattered loudly on the floor.
The sudden force of the slap whipped her head to the side. A stinging pain rippled across her face. Alessandra let out a shaky breath and slowly reached up to her burning cheek. Celestina pulled back her hand. "Look what you've done to Papa!" she hissed. "In front of everyone! You're an embarrassment."
Alessandra stared at her sister, and then to the aghast faces around her. Not daring to look at Papa and Mamma, she quickly bolted through the tables and out of the dining room. She didn't stop, darting past startled waiters and patrons, until she had burst out the front door and into the night air.
She couldn't go to the driver—he would only take her home, and Alessandra wanted to go anywhere but there. She ran down the street, pushing and bumping through people until the restaurant was far behind her. It was only then that Alessandra slowed, and then turned to see the headlights zipping past her. She lifted a hand and waved until one pair slowed and pulled up next to her.
The taxi driver switched off the light to his sign as Alessandra climbed into the back. When he asked for an address, Alessandra hesitated. Then, she told him to take her out of Milan.
"Pardon, Sigorina?"
"Just take me away from here!" Alessandra burst out. "Far, far away from here!"
"Alright, Sigorina, take a deep breath. I'll take you home—what's your address?"
Alessandra gave him one that was on the opposite side of the city from where she lived. The driver pulled back onto the road. As they cut through Milan, Alessandra tried to steady her breathing. She wiped her damp cheeks with the back of her fingers.
"What seems to be the problem?" the driver asked. Alessandra saw his eyes glance at her through the rearview.
"I don't want to talk about it," Alessandra dismissed.
"I see," the driver replied. "Well, go home. Get a night's sleep. Whatever seems to be troubling you now, it'll be much better in the morning. You'll see, Signorina."
Alessandra looked out. She realized they were driving over a bridge now. The short railing zipped by the window. Suddenly, she sat up.
"Here," she ordered. "Stop here."
"Here? But—."
"Here!" Alessandra insisted. The taxi slowed. The driver looked reluctant. Alessandra reached into her handbag, found her wallet, and took out a thick bundle of bills. She reached forward and offered it to the driver. "No change," she told him. "Just drive off—don't tell anyone I'm here."
The driver slowly took the bills, his brow creased with uncertainty. "Signora—."
"Thank you," Alessandra said quickly, opening the door. "Now please, just go." She slammed the door on the still troubled driver. Instead of continuing down the road, he watched the young girl through the rearview as she walked away from the taxi, her back slowly shrinking. He noticed how one of her hands rested gently along the rails.
Corriere Della Serra
Death in Milan—Young Woman's Body Found at the Bottom of a Bridge
17 May 1999
The body of a girl, estimated to be in her teens, has been discovered underneath the Ponte dei Gemelli. Police were called to recover the body and determine the cause of death in the event of a possible homicide.
However, according to the most recent statement released by the police chief, coroners found no evidence of struggle on the young woman's body. The cause of death was determined to be blunt force trauma to the head, likely sustained as a result of a fall from the top of the bridge. This theory is reinforced by the bruising found on the body, which coroners say closely resemble the kind of contusion inflicted as a result of falling from a height.
Investigators found an abandoned vehicle at the top of the bridge, which was determined to belong to the deceased. A pair of shoes, likely the woman's as well, was also found by the railings above the spot where the body was found.
All signs point to this being the tragic suicide of an emotionally distraught girl. In respect for her family, the police have withheld her identity from the public. Our hearts go out to the poor, grieving family and the young woman whose life ended so devastatingly. May her soul rest in peace.