The flight goes from quiet and dull, to party in the air after take-off. Unclipping belts and gathering in the centre to drink together, just like he told me we would, and the hours pass in a blink. It’s easy to slowly relax and put everything out of my head when plied with champagne and listening to insane chatter around me. They are a very animated and entertaining family, and between them, have many stories and jokes that pull you in and keep you amused.
Alexi changes gradually as we leave New York. Relaxed, let’s go a little and downs a few drinks with his brother. Side by side in the centre aisle with me perched on his left on the armrest as I sip my third champagne flute. A definite warm head and surreal feel as booze takes hold. I am trying not to get plastered though, aware that my emotions are a bit cagey and I should steer clear of intoxication. I know how that goes when I get drunk.
I watch him unfurl like some weird beautiful orchid and am fascinated with just how much he changes when surrounded by family and no pull towards responsibility or keeping face with people who matter. The further we get from New York; the more Alexi seems to lose that cold hard side to him and just warms up a lot. Getting more youthful with every mile, almost like watching stress and tension he must always carry, ebbing out of him.
He smiles, he makes jokes, and like it or not, he seems to have really good relationships with the men and women in his family. Passing jibes and jests between all here and behaving very gentlemanly towards them when dishing out drinks and chatter. I don’t think I have ever seen him really drunk, despite how frequently I see him drink and this is weirdly eye-opening.
I have been quiet for most of the trip so far, taking it all in silently, drinking the atmosphere in with these people, who genuinely seem to get along and like one another’s company.
Loud, boisterous Italian people who can drink their own weight in booze without getting obviously plastered and who all poke fun at one another mercilessly.
It’s a weird feeling being included, yet not.
I never had a family, never knew this kind of comradery in groups of people held together by blood. There’s no malice, no sly or underlying manipulation in this space. No one here to get something out of it beyond enjoyment.
I don’t know how to relax and interact the way they do with one another, and even though the affection seems real, I just feel like I’m an outsider who can’t relate in any way.
I don’t know how to be this way with people and getting drunk and watching them all, just makes me feel really alone.
I’m not here to play a role or impress men and seduce a situation. I’m here to be me and just join in, and I am completely out of my depth with that minor detail. I have never just had to be somewhere for the person I am and invited company, for no reason other than they wanted me here. Not wanted for my body, my looks, or anything pertaining to sex. I’m not an object in this setting.
I have no clue how to be, who to be or how to act. I have no clue what’s expected of me. Truth be told, I’m not a nice person and I have nothing to offer people when I have no game to play or act to hide behind; nothing interesting, nothing to be proud of. If they scratch too deep, they will realise I’m worthless trash that just looks good in a designer dress and has no substance or depth—Fake as my nails.
I have no funny stories or tales about friends and family. I have nothing to offer them and it’s not like I can tell them about my job either. It’s an unwritten rule that the club is a no-go area among people he’s related to. They wouldn’t understand it … The ex-hooker running his sex club in Crimes Ville. They would really not like that at all.
The drunker they all get the quieter and more detached I am. Not sure how to play people pleaser and social queen in this situation among genuine people. Regretting coming if this is a sign as to how my night is going to be. I just feel empty and so very sad.I have no goal or motive other than to just enjoy myself … I don’t know how to be like that. I never once had to take a look inwards and ask myself, what makes me have fun or how to be happy. My life has never been about that—it’s always just been survival; Watching my back, planning my next move. Staying one step ahead of the game.
‘You okay?’ Mico moves up beside me and drops a drink in my hand as mine was empty and had been for a little while as I sober up with the reality that I shouldn’t have come. I stopped drinking without wanting to draw attention to the fact by cradling an almost empty glass. I accept it, then discreetly slide it on the table as soon as he turns his eyes from me.
‘Fine,’ I give him a fake smile and watch Alexi as he leans over Gino to push Alessandra in the face because of something funny she said to him. There is a sibling quality in their behaviour and it just hits me low in the gut as my eyes sting with moisture. Even he has a side that can function with normal people—Satan can gel with humans.
I don’t belong with these people. I never belonged anywhere.
I feel like I am in an alternate reality and just want to go sit alone in the back and let the effects of the booze I have drunk wear off. I feel too floaty and surreal and that just makes me emotional and depressed. Insides churning up horribly.
Drinking this much is a bad idea, I should have learned that from the last time I was drunk around Alexi. Drink and I do not go well together, or hand in hand in any way. It rips out my solid foundation and leaves me teetering weirdly between outright emotional outbursts and feeling strangely fragile. I lose my cold outer wall.
‘What is it?’ Alexi the bloodhound is on me now as Mico scrutinises my face and I sigh heavily, pasting on big, fake happy and shake my head, swallowing down all signs of anything amiss with the last ounces of strength in me.
‘Nothing, I’m just quiet when I’m with people I don’t really know.’ I lie and hope to God it seems genuine.
Alexi gets up and slides out of the aisle past us with a frown on that pretty face of his, tapping my arm and extending a hand to me which makes it obvious I am to take it. I can tell by the expression he’s in no mood for refusals and I don’t want a scene among these people. He wouldn’t think twice about humiliating me.
I take it, cursing him for giving me no option other than to do so and momentarily close my eyes while taking a breath as he closes my hand inside his possessively. I let him pull me off my perch and drag me back to the plane seats we started in. He slides me in front of him quickly to sit back where I left my book, and he follows to close me in by sitting right beside me again.
‘What’s wrong?’ He’s on me as soon as I nestle into the seat, turning to me and caging me in by putting a hand behind my head on the rest and one on the table in front of me. Closer than I can handle him at any given time and I try to blank out how good he smells.
I can tell he’s already slightly drunk and he seems different … Softer. All that sadistic ice is harder to see under foggy grey eyes and a relaxed expression. It’s unnerving coming from him. He seems more like Mico at this moment and yet a lot more invasive on my person.
‘I’m fine, I told you.’ I wave him away with a dismissive gesture and sigh heavily, turning to look out into the darkness of the sky. I am gripping onto my sense of okay with my fingernails and trying to give nothing away.