Ugh...I have to stop doing this to myself. The hangovers kick my ass in the worse way. I have a competition to skate tomorrow. Hopefully, I won't feel like shit then. It wouldn't be the first time I've done it, but dammit, Violet. Stop drinking your problems. Although, Russian vodka is hard to come by in the States, so no one can blame me for getting my fill while I'm here. That whole when in Rome thing. But now, I actually had to go be in Rome.
I pulled myself out of the chair I tried napping in, but to no avail and knocked on my coach's door, "Celestino, are you awake?"
"Yeah, yeah!" he groaned on the other side. My god, he looked like he got hit by a bus. I've never seen Celestino look so rough. Tired, I'm guessing. He did have to come get me from St. Petersburg last night, "How the hell are you so functional?"
"With a prayer." To be honest, I had no idea. I knew I felt like shit and I knew I was going to sleep like a rock on the plane, but I've been up for twenty-six hours and drank on top of it. I always have been a medical anomaly.
"Alright," Celestino wasn't coherent enough to deal with me and all of my shenanigans. He went back into his room, grabbed his bag, and checked us out. Celestino didn't have to worry about Yurio. Chris and Victor got a later flight, so the boys could catch up on sleep. Those two were pretty trustworthy. Nevertheless, my coach and I had a flight to catch.
Five hours of uninterrupted sleep and constant motion from Moscow to Rome. Before I fell asleep, I took two aspirin and a Xanax and curled up in my seat. I think I'll be good for the next five hours. If anyone even attempts to wake me before we land, I will turn into Yurio and someone will be going to the hospital for a tetanus shot. That is, if they get to keep their limbs. Good night, Violet. Sleep well. Sleep this feeling off and wake up to kick some ass on the ice. You will take home gold in Rome. There is no other option.
"Violet..." a voice whispered with caution, "Wake up, bambina. And welcome back to Rome."
"We're here?" I rubbed my eyes, still in a Xanax cloud.
"That's right, principessa," Celestino kissed my forehead, "Come on. You need to get up before the plane leaves again. I promise you can go back to sleep once we get to the hotel."
"Yay," I sighed out, stumbling as I got up, "Celestino?"
"Yes, Violet?"
"Will you carry me?" I asked, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep.
"Oh, tesoro," he chuckled, allowing me on his back. It's a good thing I'm little, "Of course. I've carried you everywhere else. Why would I stop now?"
"Thanks, Coach," I rested my head on his shoulder. Out of everyone I knew, I could always count on Celestino. Victor and Chris had the kids to worry about, but Celestino would always be the one to worry about me. He's been like a dad to me since day one. And I don't think that's ever going to change.
Sentimentality aside, I had one thing on my mind. Because Celestino didn't get us first class on the plane, I needed a bed. I pushed my hotel room door open, still out of it, but at least I could muster up the strength to walk again. He may not have splurged on our plane tickets, but thank God, he got us a damn nice hotel. I think all the time changes are finally catching up to me. Jet lag never used to be a problem for me. I was hoping that wouldn't have changed. Maybe it's because I'm getting older? No. Violet, you're not even thirty yet. Quit talking like you got a foot in the grave.
When I woke up again, I had finally shaken off the Xanax. I felt a little better, but after effects of the hangover from Russia still lingered. Once I eat something and get moving around, I'm sure I'll be better again. I sat up in bed and looked over at my window seat to find a shadowy figure sitting there. I didn't think much of it. The only strange Italian man that would be sitting there is Celestino. He's the only one that had my spare key.
"Morning, Coach," I grumbled, feeling around for anything to drink. I'd stab a man for a bottle of water. What time was it anyway? Shortly after seven. That explains why it's dark outside.
"Try again, dorogoy..." Not a strange Italian man. A strange Russian man instead. What the hell, man? Can't a girl sleep in peace? Celestino...
"What are you doing here, Victor?" I buried my face in my pillows.
"We just got in a little while ago," Victor joined me on the bed, "How are you?"
"Freakin' peachy..."
Dammit, Celestino. Of everyone you could've given my key to. I know your feelings about Victor, but come on, man. You know about mine. Victor did a quick check of me. Yes, Victor. I'm hungover and I got depression kicking my ass. I'm also jetlagged all to hell, so if I were you, I'd be careful. You don't have your oven mitts with you. Someone's feeling brave.
"Violet," Victor pushed my hair out of my face, "We need to stop meeting like this."
"What do you mean?" I knew better, "Where's everybody else?"
"In the room," he told me, "Chris is resting up right now. Celestino said he'll watch the boys. And because we're in Rome, you know damn well we won't allow you to stay here tonight. We've discussed this."
"I know."
"And we need to have a little talk," Victor put his foot down, "Because I'm not going out with you tonight with us being weird. So, talk to me. What's with you lately?"
I knew this was coming. This has been a long time coming. I wish I had a little something, something in me to grease the wheels a little, but I had enough yesterday, "I'm messy. Let's just leave it at that."
"Chush' sobach'ya," he brushed me off, "Try again. There's something you're not telling me, Violet. You know you can tell me anything."
"Just one question," I hate that the son of a bitch had me cornered, but he had me cornered, "Was…Was it easy for you after we got divorced?"
"It felt like nothing happened," Victor admitted, "Why?"
"Just curious." Yet I've been beating myself up for the last eight months for anything to make me numb. Huh. It's weird how that works, "I'm starving. Food? Do we have plans or not?"
"Come on, Violet," he smirked a bit, "You should know better."
I should know better. Now, I feel dumb. We did come all this way. Granted, it was for competition, but if we were within spitting distance and didn't bother stopping, she'd kill us. Even in her old age, she would hunt our asses down and dismember us. Besides, her cooking never EVER disappointed. A couple of knocks pounded at the door. Gee, whoever could it be?
"What do you want, Celestino?" I yelled at the door.
"Mama's expecting us!" Celestino yelled back, "She knows we're in town."
"Alright," I pushed myself out of bed, "I'll be out in a second."
"Hurry up!" he demanded, "Andiamo!"
"I'm coming!" I snapped, slipping my shoes back on.
"Do you want some coffee, Violet?" Victor worried, "You seem a bit...on edge."
"No," I shook my head, "I'm hungry. Once I eat something, I'll be fine again."
"Alright," he wasn't going to fight with me. Some people got beer muscles when they're drunk. When I get hungry, I can tear a man in half like a phone book.
Just on the outskirts of Rome, in a cute little house in the countryside, there lived a precious old woman that would make sure no one ever left hungry or unloved or without wisdom. She was a fairy tale in herself and may God have mercy on anyone that turns down her kindness. For that never happened. She'd force it down their throats first.
"Mama!" Celestino called out into the house, "Sono a casa!"
Mother of God, Mama's house always smelled good. And by the smell of things, she's been baking today. And sure enough, toodling out of her kitchen was the woman herself. It's been years since I've seen Mama in the flesh. Maybe six or seven. We had just gotten the boys Yuri and Yurio were practically babies yet. Two and three. Mama's never seen them all grown up. Well...As grown up as they are now.
"Celestino!" Mama hugged her son first, "Mi sei mancata, bambino."
"Io so," Celestino kept her from crying as much as he could, "Anche tu mi sei mancato."
But then, she let out a gasp that could be heard from the heavens, "Violetta!"
"Ciao, Mama," I kept myself together. For as advanced in years as Mama is, she had a lot of upper arm strength. It reminded me of her son. But I knew what Mama's strength came from. Years of throwing fifty-pound bags of flour over her shoulder. Still, I missed the hell out of this woman. There were few in this world that I loved more than her.
"Come va, tesoro?" Mama awed, "I see you skate?"
"In qualsiasi momento," I assured. I see she's attempting her English. I'm proud of her.
"And your babies?" she looked over my shoulder, "They are so big now!"
"They're skating, too," I gushed, "They're really good. They made it to finals."
"No more talk," Mama declared, "We eat."
"Yes please." Who was I to turn down Mama's cooking? Especially when it smells absolutely intoxicating. I've been out of sorts for ages and nothing will set me back on track better than Mama's risotto. She told no one her recipes. She told no one her spice blends. They were all her secret that she'd take to her grave. And so, I stuffed my face like it was after Tokyo all over again. If I ate, I wouldn't be depressed. If I'm not depressed, I'll be fine to skate tomorrow. That is, if Chris and Victor don't get me shitfaced tonight. I highly doubt it. I'm not the only one that has to skate tomorrow. Personally, I think it's a little much to do Juniors, Men's, and Women's all in the same day, but that's why I don't make that decision.
Yet internally, things were so messy. It didn't matter how much food I shoved down my throat. It didn't matter how much of Mama and Celestino's conversation I caught. It didn't matter how much wine I had (I limited myself, ok? I only had one glass. And if I wasn't drunk after half a bottle of Russian vodka yesterday, a glass of wine isn't going to kill me. Besides, it'd be disrespectful if I said no.). Inside, I was still a mess. And the suck part about that? Mama knew everything. She could read people like a book and she knew there was something going on.
After dinner, she left Celestino to clean the kitchen (of which he did with a smile on his face) and took his prized skater into her guest room. When Victor and I were here after my minor stint in the hospital, she brought me in here to discuss my deteriorating health from what I was doing to myself. In those days, we were practically all over each other. I'm sure Chris told her about what was going on in our household. I had a feeling this would be no different than post Japan.
"Violet," Mama worried, "What is it? There is something not right."
"It's nothing, Mama," I brushed her off, "Non preoccuparti."
"Tu menti," she glared, knowing better, "What's wrong, bambina?"
"Well," I let out a heavy sigh, "The man that I love won't love me. And it hurts."
"Kill him."
"No," I whined, "I can't do that. Killing him won't solve anything. Besides, that's a little extreme."
"It's Victor, yes?" she assumed, hitting the nail on the head.
"Uh-huh," I nodded, resting my head on her shoulder.
"He will come back to you," Mama promised, "He still loves you."
"How do you know that?" I wondered, not taking too much stock in what she says.
"It's in his eyes," she pointed out, "You no notice. I do not see it with Christophe, but I do with you. He will."
"I appreciate the moral support, Mama," I cracked a smile, "If it's alright with you, I think I'm going to leave Celestino and the babies here while Chris, Victor, and I go sample some of the nightlife. It's going to be a long day for us tomorrow and we need to blow off some steam."
"Blow off steam?" Mama gave me a look.
"Relax a bit," I explained, "Is that alright with you?"
"Yes," she beamed, "Then, you stay here, yes?"
"No," I shook my head, "Celestino got us a hotel."
"Did he?" Mama looked ready to rip her son's throat out. But she wouldn't dare.
"I asked him to," I took one for the team, "So we didn't have to put you through the trouble."
"Violetta Isabella!" she gave me a swat with one of the pillows, "You should know better!"
"I've been told that a time or two before." Feisty old girl, I swear…
"Go," Mama allowed, "Go to him. He is…Il tuo cuore."
"I'm sorry," I apologized, "What's that?"
"Victor is your heart, Violet," she kissed my cheek and sent me off with my boys. Mama and I didn't get to talk as much as I'd like to. Hell, I hadn't seen her since I was having all those health problems. But when she and I did get to have these little talks, they spoke volumes…
A/N: And next week, we're going to have something else speak volumes, too. But you'll have to wait. But here we have it, friends! The long-awaited introduction of Celestino's mom. She is the cutest little thing in the world and I would take a bullet for her. Also, I understand that this is up HELLA late tonight, but it's been a day, so please be nice. K, love you. See you next chapter! xx