Make Them Regret It Chapter 23
When my grandmother took the poison, she wasn’t thinking about her legacy. When my mother closed her eyes, she believed her husband and sons were already dead. Before my sisters-in-law died, all they felt was terror.
If there had been a way to live, who would have chosen to die?
If they had known the truth, my grandmother would have broken my father’s legs with her cane. My mother would have taken her daughters-in-law and Gia and walked out of that house forever.
They could have been angry. They could have fought back. They could have left.
It was the charade that stole their chance to even live.
I had a stone erected on the back hill.
It held no words of praise.
Only their names, and the simple things they had been.
My grandmother loved roses. Butterflies used to settle on the tablecloths my mother embroidered. My older brother’s wife brewed the best cherry wine. My second brother’s wife was the most skilled healer in the family.
Gia had only just learned to write her own name, crooked and uneven. She loved chocolate more than anything.
The final line on the stone, I carved myself:
“They did nothing wrong. Remember the truth.”
After the new head of the family took office, a new rule was established: the private chapel was for prayer only and could never again be used for any other purpose. No one could ever again use “family business” as an excuse to imprison the women of the family.
The rules couldn’t bring them back.
But maybe, in the future, fewer people would have to walk into a night like ours.
That night, I had a dream.
In the dream, my grandmother stood in a garden full of roses. My mother and both my sisters-in-law were there, too. Gia ran in circles around them.
I ran over and threw my arms around my grandmother.
“Nonna, why did you lie to me?”
My grandmother stroked my hair and smiled.
“Silly girl. If I hadn’t lied, would you have taken the capsule?”
“There were so many of us in that chapel. Nonna could only save one.”
“I saved you because you’re still so young. You haven’t seen the world yet.”
Gia ran over, tugged on my hand, and asked softly, “Auntie, if I forgive Daddy, will he stop crying?”
I crouched down and smoothed her hair.
“If you don’t want to forgive him, Gia, you don’t have to.”
“Just because he gave you candy doesn’t mean you have to forget what he did.”
She nodded as if she only half understood, then ran back to my mother.
My grandmother gave me a gentle push.
“Go.”
“See the world for us.”