Wicked Behavior
Zorah had to admit, it made sense to her. She wouldn’t have believed it either. Her head was reeling to know of how promiscuous her mother was as a teenager. No wonder Ippocrate found her behavior embarrassing. If she was being called to the office, it meant Zipporah’s parents knew what was happening. Ippocrate would have been a newly appointed priest, and his sister was running around town having sex in public places.
A thought occurred to her, and she widened her eyes, “the school my mom went to, it was a catholic school right? It’s the one I attended?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.” Ippocrate’s hate of her mother was falling into place since the church was part of the diocese. Not that Zorah felt it justified but rather, she understood where he was coming from. His abuse and wickedness, well, there was no excuse for this but his anger she understood. She looked at Chester, “what happened next?”
“I did an eighteen-month tour where we did back-to-back missions, each one far more dangerous than the last. I was running from the possibility of being a father to a child I might have had with a woman I loathed. Orlando and Dane each were fighting their own demons. We jumped up for the opportunity of every mission offered. After eighteen months we were forced to take a six-month break. I was home two weeks, and my paternal grandfather passed away and then his wife, my grandmother a month or so after. We swear she died of a broken heart. I used my mourning as an excuse to avoid responsibility. Next thing I knew we were heading out again. By then you were eight. I was a coward, and I knew it but I was burying my head in the sand, convinced there was no way I was taking responsibility for someone else’s kid, but at the back of my mind you lingered, Zorah.”
“What changed? Why did you decide maybe I was yours?”
“On my next leave, it was Thanksgiving, and we ran out of condensed milk. Dad sent me to the store to get it because my stepmom was crying about how her pie was going to be ruined without it and she needed it, and she was as wreck. She’s lovely but she can be dramatic,” he shook his head. “Everything was bloody well closed, and I ended up at four different convenience stores before I found it. I was standing at the register, and I saw your mother. She was counting out change on the counter to pay for eggs as if she didn’t have enough money to pay for them. You were standing there so patiently. You were wearing a blue dress with white frills at the hem, but the white was dingy and it was easily two sizes too big for you. You were thin, so thin and you looked up at me as if you were apologizing for your mother taking so long at the cash while she rifled through her pockets for the change.” A single tear rolled down his cheek, “you had my dad’s eyes.” He laughed and wiped off the tear, “it was my first thought. Not that they were my eyes but that they were dad’s. I hid behind a shelf until she left.”
Zorah wiped her own tears off, “I remember that thanksgiving.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Father Giannone was punishing mom because the week before she spilled the eucharist. The little wafer things come in boxes and mom tripped on the stairs before mass when she was bringing them to the altar for him to do whatever he does with them and spilled a handful of them. He took thanksgiving away from us as her punishment. We weren’t allowed to participate in the meal the nuns prepared that day. When mom went to cook us something for breakfast, we found out they’d taken all the food from our fridge for the day. She figured the best she could do was scrounge up some change to get us some eggs because eggs came from chickens and chickens were related to turkeys and it was close enough to turkey dinner. She wasn’t always horrible.” She let a small smile pull her lips. “She made me the best scrambled eggs and toast and even used the last apple to make me a tiny apple pie we shared.”
“I’m glad she wasn’t always awful.”
“She also tased me when I tried to run away from home so, you know, checks and balances,” Zorah said sarcastically.
“She really tased you?”
“More than once.”
“Jesus,” he looked away as he cleared his throat. The next business day, I talked to a lawyer on base about how I could try to get a paternity test and custody of you. It was clear you weren’t well taken care of. He said it was a long shot, especially since I did not have a career which kept me in the country for anything more than a few weeks, six months at most. He said even if you weren’t dressed in the best clothes, it wasn’t evidence you weren’t loved and children all over the world lived in below poverty situations. I’d have to prove your mother was abusing you and was unfit and I’d have to prove I could provide a better life for you even though I was never around.”
Zorah wasn’t sure what to make of this and she sat quietly waiting.
“We started watching. The three of us would watch you and then we noticed the Lucchesi family was also watching you. One of the guys on our team has family in Italy. We started doing some digging and found out you were betrothed to Icaro Lucchesi. He was our age for Christ’s sake, and he was a known assassin and brutal as fuck and somehow my daughter, of only ten years old, was his bride. Then we heard all about this chosen one shit.” He rolled his eyes, “what a load of garbage.”
“I believe in it,” Zorah cut him off. “I think if you actually spent time with any of the men and their wives, you would too. My father-in-law dotes on his wife to the point she’s spoiled and a bit self-centered and it got on my nerves a bit. My grandfather-in-law can’t be in a room with his wife without somehow touching her. They’re always holding hands and stealing kisses. Icaro’s uncles all have their brides, and I promise you, the way I see them treat their wives is nothing short of respectful and loving. There is no pretense. The love is real. I understand you have seen some things in your life which would make you believe this is cult-like behavior but if it’s a cult where the men treat their women like queens and bow down to their every whim, then it’s one I would join without a second thought.” She gave a laugh at her words, “though admittedly, I gave it lots of thoughts and fought it at every turn.”
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