Sweet Hope

“Anyway, when I saw that sculpture, I looked up the artist, an Italian. An Italian who worked with Carrara marble.” I dropped my gaze. The Italian flag and the Firenzian Fleur de Lys tattoos on my arm both caught my eye.

As I stared at the green, white and red, a sense of pride flowed through my veins; the same sense I had on seeing the man who carved that sculpture was also Italian.

“I felt a link to my heritage as I looked at that sculpture. But more than that, I understood everything the sculptor wanted to portray in his work. I didn’t know shit about the story of Cupid and Psyche, but from that one sculpture I knew they loved each other… desperately. I got so much from that one statue.

“I told Daryl I wanted to try it and went from there. I had a ton of disasters over the next year. Daryl wanted me to use modern tools, but I refused. I’d become obsessed with Antonio Canova, so I insisted on only using the tools he used.”

I huffed. “Turns out that was a good thing. It gave me an edge, a uniqueness against other modern sculptors today.”

“But how did your work get noticed?” Ally asked, her face all impressed. I could feel the love for the art-form radiating from her smile.

“Daryl had a friend who knew Vin Galanti. He took photos of my sculptures and sent them to his friend, who sent them on to Vin. Next thing I know I had a visitation request from Vin and that was it. He became my mentor, took my sculptures from Prison, stored them at his studio in New York… then I got word he was showing one at the Met. I fucking went apeshit. I never wanted my work shown. They were mine, they were my guilt, my past, everything.”

“But Vin did it anyway,” Ally confirmed.

I shook my head. “Yeah, the fucker did. And after that, everything changed. People knew who I was. At least they knew ‘Elpidio’s’ work, ‘Elpidio’s’ name was suddenly known in the art world.”

“And ‘Elpidio’?” Ally asked. “He was your—”

“Nonno… Mamma’s papa. I never met him, but…” That usual stab dragged through my stomach when I thought of my mamma. It was getting harder and harder to keep all the shit back that surrounded the woman who wanted nothing more than for me to succeed. Instead all I’d done was fail, over and over and over... I’d been an epic fuck-up as her son.

“Querido? Are you okay?” Ally asked me softly. When I met her warm eyes, I knew that she understood who I was thinking about. But I still couldn’t go there yet… not even with Ally.

Not yet.

“My… Mamma used to talk about Nonno all the time. She loved him. She said he was a good hardworking man. I was using the Italian technique, I was using Carrara marble, so his name felt right to use. Fuck, my own papa’s name would only be a curse.”

“Elpidio… It’s perfect, it really it is,” Ally murmured. I could suddenly see the way she was looking at me had changed.

I drew my head back, and asked, “What?”

Ally crawled over me and tucked her head into my neck. She looked like she wanted to say something to me, but for some reason she was holding it back.

“You are so much more than anyone knows. You should give yourself way more credit than you do.”

I didn’t say anything as we lay there. For a long time I thought Ally had fallen asleep until she said, “I’m going to do everything in my power to persuade your brothers to see the man you are today.”

I stilled. “I don’t want them knowing about my sculptures.”

Ally sighed. “I know. I won’t pretend to understand why, but I accept it… reluctantly. But I’m still gonna try everything else.”

I felt my heart would burst through my chest as she said that. Ally’s cell beeped. In a flash she was across the room opening it up.

Relief spread over her face.

“Good news?” I asked.

“It’s Rome. Molly’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna have a tough couple of months, but for now, she’s good.”

Ally walked back to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. Looking back at me, she said, “I’m tired, but at the same time, I don’t think I can sleep.”

“I got an idea then,” I said, and I watched as fire lit in Ally’s dark eyes.

“Yeah?” she said and turned her body to crawl over me. After she’d kissed me, I held her head in my hands and whispered, “Play for me.”

Ally reared back in surprise. “What?”

Feeling like a damn pussy, I said, “Play the piano… for me.”