Free Stella Mia by Rosanna Chiofalo

Agata in the eyes. She is noble, a trait I am lacking in as I envision what I must do later.
    â€œOf course. You’re the closest thing I’ll ever have to a sister since my parents detest each other and can’t bear to couple again to give me any siblings. I would do anything for you, Sarina.”
    A feeble laugh escapes my lips. Agata’s words touch me, and I must resort to humor before I lose all control and break down crying. “Have you ever thought that perhaps your mother could not get pregnant again after she had you rather than assume your parents have no interest in being intimate?”
    â€œNo one knows this, Sarina, and please do not breathe a word of it to your mother or father, but my parents have not slept in the same bed for years. Papá sleeps on a cot in a storage closet he cleared out so he could turn it into a makeshift bedroom.”
    â€œI’m sorry, Agata. I had no idea.”
    â€œIf there was ever any love between those two, it’s long vanished.” Agata’s eyes look sad as she says this.
    I, on the other hand, know there was never any love between my parents. My mother was just doing her duty as an obedient daughter by agreeing to her father’s request that she marry Papá. Of course, I have no doubt that Papá found Mama beautiful and was attracted to her. But in terms of loving her, he is incapable of it. I don’t believe he even loves his children. My mother, siblings, and I are merely present to help him with his work and keep his house in order.
    â€œIt’s time!” Agata startles me out of my thoughts. I glance at my watch. It’s 9:50. The fireworks are scheduled to go off at ten p.m. We wait for our families to catch up to us before we head over to Luigi’s house. My heart races. The evening has dragged on insufferably. And I still have a very long night ahead of me.
    Luigi, his wife, and three sons are standing in front of their house. They greet us warmly. We follow them inside and make our way to their roof. It is pitch-black, and we are all moving slowly, trying to see in the darkness, until Luigi turns on a few flashlights.
    â€œWe will keep them on until the fireworks start.” Luigi is smiling as much as his sons. I guess this is the highlight of the year for him. I can tell he takes pride in the fact that he can give his friends the best view of the fireworks. There is something depressing about the fact that all this man has to look forward to is the annual feast in the village where he was born and that he will most likely never leave. Yet I get the sense that Luigi is content with his simple life and has no regrets. Many of the people in our villages are this way. I cannot understand them and how they would not want to leave the confines of their small towns and explore what is waiting outside of these peripheries.
    Suddenly, bursts of color erupt through the night sky, showering prisms of light so close I almost believe I can actually touch them.
    â€œVeloce! Spegnere le torce elettriche.” Luigi tells us to hurry and turn off our flashlights.
    We all stand in silence, staring up at the dazzling display before us. I allow myself a few seconds to take in the beauty. But it is hard for me to relax. Usually, this is my favorite part of any saint’s feast. I love watching the fireworks from Luigi’s roof since from this height the fireworks appear so near. It feels very magical, and when you’ve had a life that is filled with as much hardship as mine, you stop believing that there is any magic or wonder left in the world.
    A sharp elbow nudges my arm.
    â€œOra!” Agata whispers “now” loudly to me.
    Glancing nervously at our families, I’m relieved they haven’t heard her. But they’d have to be standing close to us to hear with the din of the fireworks.
    â€œBe careful.”
    Agata nods her head and is about to walk off when I grab her arm. She gives me a