Excerpt
Calliope awoke earlier than usual that day and quietly washed and dressed in her room. She wore her favorite white frock over her royal-blue flair dress. She had on her white sneakers which looked red from the dirt of the vineyards. The morning sun caused the deep red grapes to shine like blood drops on the green vines outside her window.
She peeked out of her bedroom door. The hall was empty. Her brothers’ doors were open and large white squares painted the dark stone floor. Her father’s door at the end of the hall was closed. She heard him come in late last night, the usual drunken voices of a village woman, and his vulgarity. Good thing, she thought, She probably left with all his money hours ago. And he’s still deep in a stupor.
Today was August 29, 1994, her eighteenth birthday. She would make it down the backstairs, through the kitchen, out the pantry door, and Jacques would be waiting for her in the village square. She’d climb on the back of his motorbike, wrap her arms around his waist, and he would take her far, far away from the House of Rancid Grapes.
That was her plan. But when she reached the kitchen all her plans vanished. Ameri DeNoirre was sitting at the old wooden table, a bottle of wine and two glasses on it. His glass was perpetually empty, no matter how many times he filled it. The other sat full and untouched before a man with gray and black hair and dead cold eyes.
“You are eighteen today,” Ameri slurred.
Calliope was surprised he remembered. He hadn’t for years. “Yes. I am going to the market. We have no milk or eggs for breakfast.”
The stranger smiled. His lips barely parted, “So, she can cook too?”
Calliope shot an angry glare at him. An instant hatred gripped her. What business was it of his, whether she could cook or not.
“And such a fire she has,” the stranger laughed at her. “Yes, she will do. You are quite right, she is worth every franc.”
“Then, it is settled,” Ameri stated.
“What is settled? What will I do?” Demanded Calliope.
“Contessa Calliope DeNoirre, let me introduce you to your husband, Mienheart Eldersteen,” her father badly butchered the stranger’s name, “as soon as the bank opens.”
“Mienhard Eldinstein,” the stranger fixed it with a regal German accent, “at your pleasure.”
Calliope’s mind went numb, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. She tried to speak but there was no sound in the void. Her father, this man, their faces twisting with horrific grins. She grabbed the back of a chair, steadied herself. Surely, she was still in her bed. This was a nightmare.
“You will have your money,” the German said, shattering the trance she was under. “Two hundred thousand, as agreed!”
“What do you two think you are doing,” she screamed to be sure she was really awake. “You cannot sell me like I am the family cow.”
“Calliope, the harvest has been a dismal failure this year. The worst one yet. Surely, you know this—”
“I don’t care,” Calliope was reaching breaking point. “I am leaving. Today! Now! I am going to meet Jacques and we are never coming back!”
“Ah, the boyfriend you mentioned,” the German said coldly. “In ten minutes, the police will arrive at his house. They will find a package. It contains a large amount of heroine. Your Jacques will be in prison until he is older than I.”
“Unless, I agree,” she muttered.
“Yes,” he said.
Calliope knew Jacques’ life was over.
“He didn’t spoil you, did he? Ameri, I told you, I will not pay for damaged goods.”
“Yes. Yes, we made love many times,” Calliope desperately blurted out. “In fact, I carry his baby. That is why I must leave today,” she added.
“She lies,” Ameri laughed. “She has barely kissed the boy. The doctor will be here to confirm this.”
Calliope could take no more degradation. She fainted. When she came to the doctor had finished his examination. She didn’t feel like herself. She didn’t feel like anyone. She awoke dead, inside and out.
“Contessa,” her father put his arm around her shoulder as if to comfort her. “These things happen all the time. You are saving the family’s vineyard from ruin. It’s your duty. Your boy, he will not go to prison. And I found a man who is advanced in years. He will be dead while you are in the prime of your life. And you will have all his money.”
Although Calliope heard his words they did not register. The whole vile affair was a never-ending nightmare. The wedding, her first and only night in his bed, his stubby fingers grabbing and pawing her flesh. His weight pinning her down. His legs forcing hers apart until he could push his thick hard flesh into her, seeking the fire he saw in her father’s kitchen. There was none.