Okay so this is the rough (really, really rough) version of the prologue to my book... What I need to know is, if you read this would you be intrigued? Would you want to know what happens? Or would you just be so utterly confused that you'd close the book and walk away? Thanks for being my guinea pigs!!!
My eyes burn with tears I won't allow to fall, my body's numb with pain I can't fight, and my jaw clenched in anger I can barely control. I let my eyes slip shut for a moment of escape. In some strange and ludicrous way this day seems so perfectly normal. Children laughing at a nearby park. The hint of lilac in the air. The way the warm sunshine feels in my hair. Everything is so perfect. Everything is so wrong.
My eyes fly open. What am I doing here? I want to run, escape, find anywhere to be but here. But I can't. I need to be here and I need to get through this. I look directly at the man standing across from me. Everything about Gino is so familiar to me. My gaze fixates on him as I take in his dark suit fitted to his muscular body, his chiseled jaw and black curly hair, the sparkling stud in his left ear lobe. Every inch of his body perfectly crafted like a mythical Roman god.
I hate him.
I hate everything about him. He stands there so stoically as if he wasn't at all to blame for what has happened. But I know the truth and I know that deep down inside he must hate me as much as I do him. And if he doesn't now, he soon will. I pull the diamond from my left ring finger and squeeze it tight in my right hand. The ring is as much his as it is mine. I hate it.
The sound of the priest's voice pulls me back to reality. His voice is monotone, droning on and on. Where did he come from? Who found him? I hardly remember being asked if I had a preference in who preformed this ceremony. But I do and it's not him. I assume from the way he is dressed that he's Catholic and so are we in name. But we aren't religious people. In fact, right now I don't even know if I believe there is a God.
The priest is reading from a small black book but I can't focus on what he's saying. Everything is so wrong. The children are still laughing, the breeze still blowing, the sun still shining. I feel like I can't breath. My lips are parted, my mouth sucking in huge gasping breathes, but my lungs feel like they aren't absorbing the oxygen.
I hear an amen and the priest closes his book. Out of habit I cross myself, touching forehead, chest, left and right shoulders. Six men step forward and I watch them as they heft the solid coffin, slowly lowering it into the freshly dug grave. Scattered murmurs and sniffling erupt throughout the crowd. Then a long silence. Someone's hand guides me from behind and I know what they want me to do but I'm just not ready. I won't ever be ready. I love the man in that coffin. I love him and I hate him. I love him for all of the memories we shared, for the steady rock he was in my life, for the love he gave me. But I hate him for the lie he was living, for the agony of betrayal, and the sting of disappointment. I hate him for leaving me. I hate him, but I love him too much to let him go.
I take a steadying breath and bend down, I use my left hand to scoop up a fist full of dirt. Straightening, I step up and look directly across the grave into Gino's eyes. With both palms upturned, I slowly unfurl my fingers and tilt them down toward the ground. Dirt, pebbles, and Gino's diamond ring tumble from my hands and fall onto my father's coffin. Numb I turn and walk away leaving everything I thought I once loved.
