Amapola Part 2

I hoped that this change would do us good, and it did; my father was in love with the city, and I even suspected he was dating a very nice widow who was our neighbor. I was happy, and so was he.
The only thing that annoyed me was his terrible habit of always reminding me of Salvatore, as if I could forget him. My father was under the delusion that separating permanently didn’t mean forgetting. I remembered every day, hour, minute, and second, even if I didn’t show it. Salvatore was a constant presence in my mind.
Five days after I spoke with Fabrizio and Rico about what I would do, I was on a private jet flying to Palermo with a likely job interview scheduled for the next day.
I tried to refuse their help, insisting that I didn’t need it and that I would manage on my own. But they were crazy about safety, and having been so close to them for a long time made me a target. And that was the law of the mafia: la famiglia protegge la famiglia. Somehow, I started to belong to this world.
Unlike what I thought, my new role had nothing to do with the mafia. I was hired as the personal assistant to the president of a wine export company in Palermo, which was a partnership between Salvatore and Marco Grassi, the man I now worked for.
I was in love with what I did. Working directly with Salvatore had brought me a lot of experience, and I had no trouble fitting in. Moreover, working with Marco was wonderful. He was shrewd, intelligent, and easygoing; every day, I woke up knowing that going to work would do me a world of good.
My father said that being buried in work almost twenty-four hours a day was the way I found to escape my feelings. After a while, I realized he was right, as every time I had some free time, I ended up parking my car in front of Salvatore's castle. I wanted to distance myself; I didn’t want to see him and avoided everything that reminded me of him. Yet, time and again, I found myself here, trying to absorb just a little bit of him, like a drug addict seeking the slightest fix to feed their addiction.
Salvatore never sought me out. Even though he was a partner in the export company, his brothers handled all the business matters, which is why I always forced myself to move on. He had managed to do it, and I couldn’t continue sinking into self-pity.
I left the office after lunch, which was a rarity, but Marco practically kicked me out so I could go to a salon and get ready. We were having a big event that evening to launch some new products, and expectations were high.
I confirmed with Fabrizio yesterday that he would be there, and I was happy to see him again. In these six months, we had seen each other only a few times, and I missed him. I felt bad that Rico couldn’t come too; it would have been fantastic to have both of them here with me. As for Amadeu and Ángela, I was content to see them in video calls. I knew they wouldn’t distance themselves from Salvatore under any circumstances. I felt sad about that, but I was also grateful to know that he was surrounded by loyal people who genuinely cared for him and didn’t just flatter him because of his position.
In any case, I would soon be going to Rome. This time, I wouldn’t be able to escape work commitments, and just thinking about being in the same city as Salvatore again made my heart freeze.
I turned on the car and forced myself to move forward. It was always like this whenever I came to the castle. I looked at my phone, at our photos, and the urge to call him rose within me. Even if I remained silent, just hearing his voice would fill the void inside me. But I controlled myself and kept going. Living one day at a time while coping with the distance and longing had become my life’s goal, and so far, I had survived.
“You look beautiful, principessa,” papà said when he entered my room. I was standing in front of the mirror, fastening the last pair of earrings to my ears.
“Thank you, papà,” I replied with a smile on my lips.
“Amapola?”
“Yes.” I turned toward him.
“When are you going to put aside your pride and reach out to him?” he asked, once again broaching the forbidden topic.
“Don’t start, papà, per favore.”
“Daughter, I have no doubt that you will be the most beautiful woman of the night, but it pains me to know that even though you are professionally fulfilled, your happiness doesn’t reach your eyes. You’re just pretending to have moved on, dear. Don’t fool yourself.”
“Let’s not talk about this today,” I pleaded, letting out a sigh. “Salvatore has moved on, and I need to do that too, papà. But you don’t help when you keep bringing him up at every opportunity.”