The Things You Make Me Feel Ch. 09

"Calm down, my love; I'm here now," he whispered, cleverly inducing what had made her this perturbed. "Everything's gonna be okay. Just leave it all to me."

Whether it was true or not, Ellie believed him wholeheartedly. She would believe every word that came out of his pretty mouth.

One would be hard-pressed to guess which of the siblings was the younger when watching the two tangled at this moment. Ellie sure didn't feel like the oldest now. She hadn't felt like that for a few good weeks. The more intimate she and Oliver were getting the needier and weaker she was growing. Oliver's inner strength was overpowering and awe-inspiring. It made her feel it was safe to be vulnerable with him in a way she'd never allowed herself before, and, consequently, was making her more and more dependable of him. Perhaps because she knew he could withstand it and never punish her for it.

It was a strange moment for all participants, save Ellie. She was too much of an emotional disaster to take notice, bawling in her lover's arms, but for Dave, this was the first time since that night months ago that he witnessed his siblings in such an intimate moment. He wasn't sure how he felt about it, but he knew he wasn't loving it. Kara felt much like Dave. Incest made her feel awfully uncomfortable when reading on it let alone when seeing it. As unsettling as it was, however, Kara and Dave were transfixed as they watched Ellie going to pieces in Oliver's arms. They may have wanted to look away, yet they needed to let it sink in.

Oliver was still at lost as to how their secret was untimely revealed, but the answers were coming, he knew. He looked into his brother's eyes with no remorse or shame as he kept calming their sister down with loving caresses. "I love her."

Dave nodded, not willing to argue with the facts. "I know."

Dave was definitely uncomfortable with those words, but he wasn't a hypocrite. Up until not very long ago, he himself had been having similar feelings for their sister, and had those feelings been reciprocated, he might've very well been standing there instead of his brother, taking on the world alongside Ellie. Mercifully, after his sister had made it clear to him that such a pairing would forever remain an unrealized fantasy, he was able to repress those feelings and move along. Watching Ellie weeping in their brother's arms, he knew he loved her, but not the way Oliver did, not anymore.

Ellie was settling down eventually, and she was only sniveling now as opposed to her previously unrestrained sobbing. Oliver cupped her cheeks as he looked down into her deep blue eyes. There were still a few tears fogging them, but it made her look even more ravishing, he thought. He smiled, as if unfazed by this predicament. He needed to take the burden off her shoulders and onto his; perking up his girlfriend was his top priority now. Ellie smiled back, tears coursing down her right cheek. She was already feeling better. Her brother's smile made her confident in his ability to resolve this. He could end a war with that smile, she felt.

Oliver wasn't nearly as confident in himself as he led his sister to believe, but she would never know that; he would die before she even suspected it. He released her cheeks and walked past Dave and Kara to the kitchen as nonchalantly as he could muster. He poured himself the whiskey and did the shot before pouring again. He needed to calm his nerves before he put out the fire.

Kara considered him as he did his second shot. She might not have lied before when confessing to Ellie of her growing adoration for Dave, but she couldn't deny that there was something awfully attractive about his kid brother. It was that silent power as she once described it. It had an impact on her that she did not approve of, as much as she was trying to loathe him at the moment.

"How you found out is utterly irrelevant now," Oliver said quietly. "Your feelings on the matter are equally moot because this is going down regardless. You just got a little more time to get used to it before we pull the trigger, and it won't be a whole lot of time, I tell you that."

Ellie watched her kid bro in admiration. He had the ability to sound so incontestably authoritative without even trying to. The second he stepped into her flat, he had the room.

"We understand it will take some getting used to, and we're not gonna push you to accept it a second before you're ready. All we ask is for you to keep it to yourselves until we're prepared to start hell." He poured his third glass and did the shot before he expelled the fumes with a deep sigh. "Bro?"

Dave nodded. He'd known for some time now that this was indeed a new reality he needed to get used to.

"Kara?"

Kara swallowed, oddly apprehensive to speak her mind. "You know you're ruining her life, don't you?"

"Don't listen to her, baby," Ellie hissed as she walked past her best friend. She wrapped her arms around his waist and shot Kara a look. "She has no clue what she's talking about."

"Kara?" Oliver repeated as if she'd said nothing.

"If anyone finds out, it won't be from me." She turned around to fetch her clothes. "Come on, babe, let's get out of here."

***

"I don't know what you have to be nervous about. You don't need to impress them or anything."

Ellie smiled, agitated. "I know, but you think so highly of them, and they are my little sunshine's grandparents. I just want to make a good impression, is all."

"As if that was ever in doubt. Good impression is what you do, bellissima."

"Thanks, baby," Ellie replied nervously, standing at the airport alongside Oliver with Michela a few feet away anxiously awaiting her grandparents.

It had been well over a month since the night Kara and Dave walked out of Ellie's condo with the promise to keep their relationship a secret. Kara had been keeping her distance, and she and Ellie hadn't even talked once let alone met up for drinks etc.. Ellie was in peace with it however; she was prepared for such a reality long before that night. If had to, she would sacrifice everything and everyone for Oliver. Nothing else mattered now.

"NONNO! NONNO!" Michela shouted at the top of her lungs after spotting her grandfather in the surge of crowd. She could barely contain herself. "Guarda qua! C'è Michela!" (Look here! It's Michela!).

The 48-year-old Italian grinned, and while pushing two suitcases on the cart in front of him, quickened his paces. "Bambolina!" He picked his granddaughter up and kissed her repeatedly. Michela's grandmother soon emerged behind them and snatched the little girl from his arms, kissing her in tears.

Oliver approached Michela's grandfather, and the latter hugged and kissed him no less passionately than he had his granddaughter, which was a bit strange for Ellie to watch. There was big love between them, and this smart-looking man was showering her brother with kisses as if he were his own child. By contrast, the no less groomed woman ignored Oliver as if he weren't even there. Ellie could easily feel the bad blood between the two.

They were awfully young and handsome, Ellie thought. Both looked mid-40's, with dark skin that divulged no wrinkles. The man was about 5' 9" and had all of his hair. The woman was a bit shorter than Ellie, standing at 5' 4", and her chocolate shoulder-length hair was swept back into a ponytail. She was quite a looker in Ellie's eyes, and she could immediately see the resemblance between her and her granddaughter.

"E chi è questa splendida creatura?" (And who's that beautiful creature?).

"That is my sister, Ellie. Ellie, this is Antonio."

Antonio took her hand in his kissed it humbly. "È un vero piacere conoscerti finalmente," (It is a great pleasure to finally meet you).

"It's very nice meeting you, sir," Ellie replied with a smile, wisely inferring he'd just greeted her.

"Oliver e Michela hanno provato a dirci quanto sei bella, ma è chiaro che non ci sono riusciti. Sei assolutamente splendida," (Oliver and Michela have told us of your beauty, but they were not doing you justice. You are absolutely magnificent).

Ellie couldn't understand a word he'd said, but his smile and warm tone suggested it was something very positive. She smiled her captivating smile and waited for her brother to translate.

"Uh, yeah," Oliver said, as though forgetting his function. "He said he thought you'd be prettier."

Ellie's eyes shot wide open. She couldn't belie—

"No, no! That is not what I said!" Antonio objected in a distinct Italian accent before he chuckled at Oliver. "Your brother is what we call in Italia un imbecille."

Oliver laughed. "This imbecile got you to switch to English though."

"Very nice, Oliver; very nice indeed. Now tell your sister my exact words."

Oliver gave Ellie the translation, the correct one this time, and a warm shade of red filled her cheeks. "Thank you so much, sir. It's—"

"Please, Antonio," he implored.

Ellie smiled, humbly bobbing her head. "Antonio."

"Perfetto," he approved her pronunciation. "I've heard so much good things about you. I am hoping we—"

"E questa è mia zia Ellie," (And that's my aunt Ellie), Michela cut her Granddad off as she introduced her aunt to her grandmother.

Ellie and Francesca greeted each other through Antonio since his wife didn't speak a word in English. They then headed out to the parking lot, where Dan's SUV patiently waited. Oliver put their luggage in the trunk and drove them to the restaurant he'd made reservations at, which was a couple of hours drive from the airport. Michela and her grandparents were chattering incessantly in the backseat as well as at the restaurant, and come evening, Oliver dropped the Italian couple off at the 5-star hotel they were staying.

"They're such nice people," Ellie opined on their way back home, the rain dashing against the windshield. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at her sleeping niece. "They've tired her real good."

Oliver smiled. "Yeah. Busy days ahead of her."

"Antonio is nothing like I thought it'd be. He's so easygoing and pleasant."

"He is. He's an incredible person."

"And Francesca? At first I thought she was grouchy, but... she seems to be only around you."

"Yeah," Oliver sighed.

Ellie reached for his hair and fiddled with it lovingly. "She's really angry, isn't she? Because of Michela?"

He nodded, his eyes on the road.

Ellie interlaced their fingers and kissed the back of his hand. "You'll work it out; I know you will. There's nothing you can't do, baby."

"You give me too much credit," he said in dismay.

Ellie shook her head and kissed his hand again. "I really don't. If anything, I don't think I give you enough."

They drove another mile or two in silence, concentrating on the volleys of rain that spattered across the windshield.

"Spend the night."

Ellie turned her head to study his face. Her boyfriend had a knack for making it so impossible to refuse him. Or maybe it was just with her?

She couldn't tell, not anymore. "All you need is just ask."

***

The Italian couple was having lunch the next day at the Jensen residence. Michela couldn't have been happier, with most of her immediate family round the same table. Jack and Dave were absent, each due to his own reasons, but at least her aunt was there. She was always there now.

"More wine, Antonio?" Dan offered and began pouring as though the bottle had a mind of its own.

"Si, grazie." He dabbed the corners of his mouth with the napkin and rinsed down his bite with a swig from his red wine. "Signora Alice, the lamb is eccellente, so... Oliver, come si dice tenero?"

"Tender."

"Si, molto tenero. You cook very good."

Alice grinned proudly. "Thank you very much. I'm glad to see you're enjoying it."

"Oh, yes. So much joy."

Alice and Dan tittered. Similarly to their daughter, they both found Michela's grandfather pleasant and endearing—and interesting, too. His English was adequate enough for them to be able to converse through many different topics, and this meal proved to be less awkward than what Alice had initially believed.

They were of upper middle class, Alice noted by their attires and table manners, never mind Oliver had already disclosed it months ago. She could tell Michela hadn't been deprived of anything while living in Italy, which she was both pleased and a bit disappointed with. She wanted to outclass them, in everything. She snuck another peek at Francesca while she was speaking to little Michela who was perched in her lap. It rubbed her the wrong way. She didn't like that woman.

Francesca, unlike her husband, was unable to take a more active part in the casual conversation as she didn't know English; irrespectively, she didn't seem particularly disposed to. She was engrossed in her granddaughter's stories and clearly didn't need or want any distractions.

"It seems to be going well," Ellie said to Oliver while helping him making coffee for all. "If you don't count Mom's dirty looks at Francesca."

"Yeah," Oliver murmured absently, loading another capsule into the espresso machine.

Ellie put her hand on his back and raked softly. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"It's just... frustrating. The way she behaves."

"Have you even tried talking to her? I don't think I've seen you exchanging a single word since they landed."

"You're not wrong," he muttered bitterly.

"Then maybe you should think of changing that. Make the first move?"

"You think?"

"What's the worst that could happen?"

Oliver nodded. "You're right. I'll give it a shot."

The siblings served the coffee and took their seat. Oliver observed his daughter and her grandmother chatting while he was racking up the courage to engage in conversation with the latter. He took a few sips as he listened to his daughter telling Francesca about her friends from kindergarten and about the many playdates he'd set up for her.

"È molto amichevole. Tutti le vogliono bene," (She's very friendly. Everyone loves her).

Francesca shot him a murderous look, and only once he gulped, she requested more details from Michela. Oliver averted his gaze to Antonio as he feigned interest in what he and his parents were talking about. Ellie put her hand on his knee under the table and squeezed lightly, encouraging him. Antonio gave him a no less encouraging smile, and Oliver took a sip from his tea and decided to try his luck again as he looked for opportunities to jump in.

He swallowed as he nodded at Michaela's words. "Si, abbiamo provato a—" (Yes, we've been trying to—).

"Non ti rivolgere a me, Oliver! Capito?!" (Do not talk to me, Oliver! Do you understand me?!)

Bafflement washed over the table. Antonio quickly urged his wife to calm down, reminding her that they were guests and that Michela shouldn't hear this.

"No! No!" she shouted as she sprang to her feet. "Non si rivolgerà a me come se niente fosse! E non rimarrò seduto, nemmeno per un secondo, se—" (He's not going to talk to me as if nothing happened! I will not sit here, not even for another second, if—).

"Francesca!" Antonio barked. "Non qui," (Not here).

She shot Oliver a glower and asked her husband where she could smoke a cigarette. Antonio repeated the question to a shaken Oliver, and the latter showed her to the patio and joined her outside. Michela burst into tears at the sound of the heated debate and began a frenzied run in the direction of the patio while weeping at her grandmother to stop yelling at her father. Alice ran after her and stopped her from opening the door. She picked her up and announced angrily that she was taking her upstairs.

"My apologies," Antonio said to Dan and Ellie. "My wife... she is very upset with Oliver, but this is not a good way to behave." He shook his head and poured himself what was left of the wine before he explained to a worried Dan the actions that brought upon his youngest this outburst.

Ellie was long gone by then. She stood by the patio door, observing this Italian monster tearing her lover a new one. She wanted to scream at her to stop, but she didn't. Her brother was slowly unraveling, and Ellie prayed for him to defend himself. Not long after, Oliver began countering, and now it was Francesca who was looking like the rattled prey. Ellie couldn't tell what they were saying, but the names of Bianca and Michela were shouted to and fro, and with each time, the mature Italian was crumbling a bit more.

Ellie didn't think she looked like a monster anymore. She looked crushed and in pain, quivering in the cold under the roof that sheltered them from the dour weather, and suddenly, all she wanted was to hold her. She looked beyond devastated, marching straight into the vicious rain in tears, flinging her arms about as though she didn't care if she lived or died.

"Francesca!" Oliver cried out as he stormed after her into the rain. The two were soaking wet in less than ten seconds. "Bianca is gone! I can't bring her back! None of us can!"

"It is not about Bianca! My daughter is with God now. It's about Michela! And it's about you, Oliver!" She sobbed, her body trembling. "Michela is the only thing I have left... and you... I had loved you like a son, and you took her from me and left, and now I have nothing... NOTHING!"

Oliver pulled his sopping hair back, the rain pouring down his eyes and lips. "What do you want me to do?! I... I don't know what to do anymore!"

"Come home! This may be the place you've grown up in, but your home is Italy! With us! It always has been! You were lost, Oliver, but my Bianca found you. She made you who you are! You are more Italian than you would ever be American." She pressed to him, her eyes pleading into his. "I'm begging you, Oliver, if you love me... come home."

Oliver shook his head and looked in the direction of the house. His watering eyes found his girlfriend's through the glass door. Ellie could see how distraught he was while bathing in the torrential rain. Her brother held her gaze for a long moment before he broke eye contact and said something to Francesca that made her throw herself in his arms. Ellie had no idea what it was, but Francesca was kissing his cheeks again and again while embracing him so closely.

This woman didn't hate her brother at all, Ellie only now came to the realization. Even their own mother never held Oliver this way. It amazed Ellie how deceptively thin the line between hatred and love truly was. At that moment, this woman loved her brother more than any parent ever a loved a child. Ellie smiled at the heartwarming sight and left to find her mother.

*

"Oliver, tè o caffè?" Francesca shouted. "Ti faccio un caffè," (I'll make you coffee), she decided for him a second later. "Adori il mio caffè.," (You love my coffee).

Francesca was in the kitchen with Ellie twenty minutes later while the two were making hot beverages. She was still soaked to her bones, even after sweeping through her clothes with a blow-dryer for most of those twenty minutes. She looked nothing like the woman who'd entered this home an hour ago, though, Ellie pondered. She was crooning Italian songs and was all smiles and love.

"Sei bellissima cara," (You're beautiful, you). She cupped Ellie's cheeks and gave the left one a kiss. "Proprio come tuo fratello," (Just like your brother). She kissed her right cheek.

Ellie giggled, blood mounting in her cheeks. She understood the first sentence perfectly since Oliver called her and Michela that constantly.

The two carried the drinks to the quiet table, and Francesca set Oliver's coffee in front of him. She kissed the top of his head and mumbled in Italian that he should drink it while it was hot. Michela then asked if she and father had reconciled, and her grandmother replied affirmatively before feeding both her cheeks a bevy of kisses.