Amapola Part 2

“Senhor Leopoldo?” Salvatore wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “I need to speak with you.”
“I’ve been waiting for this, signore,” my dad spoke confidently, and I felt nervous.
“Papà, please,” I began, but he interrupted me.
“Don’t get involved, Amapola. This is a conversation between men,” he said, and I saw my father suddenly appear much smaller than Salvatore.
“I apologize for not speaking with you sooner,” Salvatore began. “I know Amapola is as precious to you as she has become to me, and as a father, I understand that you might be upset to learn about our situation along with everyone else.”
“I am upset; I didn’t expect this from my daughter,” he alternated his gaze between me and Salvatore.
“I understand, sir, but I ask that you recognize that my position sometimes requires me to protect myself a bit. Not everything I do can be known by everyone,” Salvatore said, taking full responsibility when I knew he would have spoken up from the first day I invited him for coffee.
“I want to make it clear that I’m not just anyone; I’m her father. But don’t worry, Salvatore. I appreciate this relationship. I see how much you’ve done not only for her but also for me…”
“Sir Leopoldo,” Salvatore interrupted him, but my dad raised a hand in a gesture indicating he needed to speak.
“I’m not referring to luxury or material things; I know I raised my daughter very well, along with my late wife, God rest her soul.” He made the sign of the cross. “These things don’t impress my Amah. If you’ve won her heart, it’s because you’re a good man, despite everything you do. And as long as you respect her and make her happy, I give you my blessing.”
“Thank you very much, sir Leopoldo, mio suocero.” They shook hands, and I hugged him, grateful for his understanding and words.
“Now, mia bambina, I’m going to say goodbye to everyone. Your old man can’t handle these long celebrations anymore.”
“Stay and sleep here with us,” I invited.
“No, bambina, I prefer my home, but I appreciate your kindness,” he said, and Salvatore asked one of his men to accompany him.
Like my dad, gradually everyone else said their goodbyes until only Salvatore and I remained.
“Would you like another glass of champagne?” Salvatore offered.
“Yes, amore mio,” I said with a smile on my lips.
“What did you say?” Salvatore asked, surprised. I had never said those words to him, although he sometimes called me that. I expressed my love and affection in other ways.
“Yes, amore mio,” I repeated, and he slowly walked toward me with two glasses filled with the bubbly liquid.
“Repeat?”
“Mio amore, amore mio, ti amo Salvatore Dalla Costa,” I said, and my lips were taken by his in a kiss full of meaning and promises.
“Dance with me, mia moglie.” He took his phone out of his pocket, and I knew he was connecting it to the mansion's sound system.
“Of course, il mio uomo.” He tossed the phone onto the sofa and pulled our bodies together as the first notes filled the air, my throat tightening with recognition.
It wasn’t just a dance between lovers; it wasn’t just a confession of eternal love. The music he dedicated to me was a devotion and a promise of everlasting love, and just as passionately in love with him, I followed his body and his deep voice in my ear, singing every word as he fervently repeated them while our eyes never strayed for even a second.

"I live for her since she left.
The first time I met her, I don't remember how,
but she got inside me and stayed.
I live for her, since
the first time I met her, I don't remember how she conquered me.
I live for her because she makes
my soul vibrate strongly.
I live for her, and it’s not a burden;
I live for her, she gives me
all my true strength. I live for her, and it doesn’t weigh me down.
I live for her too, you know,
and you shouldn’t be jealous.
She belongs to everyone who
has a constant need.
Like a stereo in a room
of those who are alone, and now know
that it’s also for them; for this reason, I live for her.
I live for her, I do too,
and there’s no reason to be jealous; she is everything and more,
like the sweetest of perfumes, she goes wherever I go,
she doesn’t let loneliness come near.
More than for myself, I live for her.
“She is a muse that invites us
to touch her with our fingers
through a piano;
death is far away; I live for her.
She is a muse that calls us
to dream of beautiful things;
through a piano, death doesn’t exist if I live for her.
I live for her, who often knows
how to be sweet and sensual.
Sometimes she hits hard, but it’s a punch that never hurts.
I live for her, who often knows
how to be sweet and sensual.
Sometimes she hits in the head, but it’s a punch that never hurts.
I live for her, I know she makes
me spin from city to city,
suffer a little, but at least I live. It’s a pain when she leaves.
I live for her; I know she makes me
spin from city to city.
I suffered a bit, but at least I live; it’s a pain when she leaves.
I live for her inside hotels;
with extreme pleasure, it grows.
I live for her in the vortex;
through my voice,
love expands and produces.
I live for her inside hotels;
with extreme pleasure, it grows.
I live for her in an abyss;
through my voice,
love expands and produces.
I live for her, nothing else I have.
And how many others will I meet
who, like me, have written on their faces?
I live for her and nothing else I have.
And how many others will I find
who, like me, have it written on their minds?
I live for her.
I live for her.
On a stage or against a wall,
I live for her.
I live for her.
On a stage or against a wall.
I live for her to the limit;
even in a tough tomorrow.
I live for her on the edge;
every day is a conquest.
She will always be the protagonist.
I live for her to the limit;
even in a tough tomorrow.
I live for her on the edge;
every day is a conquest.
She will always be the protagonist.
I live for her because now
I have no other way out.
Because music, you know,
I have never betrayed it sincerely.
I live for her because she gives me
pauses and notes in freedom.
If there were another life, I would live it.
I live for her.
I live for her; the music
I live for her.
I live for her; she is unique.
I live for her."

"As the last notes of 'Vivo per lei' by Andrea Bocelli play, my tears flow down. I couldn’t wish for anything more than this moment, yet for the first time, Salvatore completely unveils himself before me.
“I love you, my Amah, since the first time my eyes fell upon you. You were my first and my last thought every day. Thank you for staying and being mine.”
He kisses me, then lowers himself and carries me up the stairs in his arms. We would make love with our bodies and reaffirm everything our words said. Today many steps were taken, and I was more than satisfied with each one of them."