A Night in Venice, Not Lyon
They sat on a table at Osteria Mozza in this cold winter night. Darkness enveloped them, being kept away only by the tiniest flame burning in the candle in front of them. There were beautiful light pink and white roses decorating the environment, but there was no trace of their pleasant scent. In fact, their vibrance was lost, with the red tint almost entirely faded away from what was once something beautiful. The waiter comes by and places their dishes in the middle of the tiny table, accompanied by a “Bon appétit” as he left their sight. “Bon appétit”, repeated Charles, with the same sarcastic and judgmental tone used by him on more occasions than one could count. “I cannot understand why in a million years someone would speak French in what is clearly an Italian restaurant”, he remarked as condescendingly as possible. “I guess he made a mistake”, expressed Emma in a soft, redescent voice. She starred at the food displayed in front of them, getting lost in the poisonous smell coming from the yellowish white cheddar and parmesan sauce in his plate. “I mean, it wouldn’t kill them to at least educate their waiters on the most basic vocabulary of the language, if their goal is to continue playing this charade and call themselves Italian” he continued while lightly pressing his knife on the meat. A thick, bloody red liquid slowly infiltrated the white, staining the sauce the same way wine destroys a light shirt, until Charles stabbed the bottom of his plate and red became all that could be seen. “What is this?”, she said interrupting his long speech about Italian cuisine. “It is a Fettuccine ai Quattro Formaggi over a Bistecca alla Fiorentina”, he responded with the most flawed Italian accent she had ever heard. “Bistecca, you mean meat?”, said Emma infuriated.
“Meat is an oversimplification of this complex …”
“I don’t care about the stupid techniques they used to cook it! The question is simple, is that meat?”
“Yes”, said Charles in a soft tone.
Emma stands up in a fast and enraged motion and makes her way to his side of the table. She grabs his plate and smashes it on the floor as she lets out a maddened yell straight to his face.
“What the fuck did you just do?”
“What, me? I thought you wouldn’t care about this fake Italian dish. After all, you are way too sophisticated to eat anything but authentic traditional food”, mocked Emma.
“Look bitch, I don’t know what the hell’s going on with you, but you better apologize or that bruise on your back won’t be your last!” fumes Charles as he makes his way back to his seat. He points to the mass at the floor and mutters, “You’re paying for this.”
“How dare you talk to me like this? You know I can throw your ass in jail if I want to! You better watch your tone when talking to me!”
Charles in an act of fury grabs Emma’s neck and, with a strong grip, chokes her. The waiter comes by in distress. “Oh my God, is everything alright? Somebody call the police.”, said the waiter. “You will do no such thing. Now get your stupid ass back to that kitchen and don’t leave until I say so! If you do as you’re told, like a nice little boy, you can expect a generous, well let’s call it tip, by the end of the night. If you move even an inch away from that kitchen, I’ll have you fired and deported back to wherever the hell you came from”, Charles intorted. The poor man starred at Emma’s blushing, breathless face and made his way back to the kitchen, with an ache on his heart and regret in his brain.
Charles let go of his grip, finally letting Emma breathe. In a shaken voice, gasping for air, she yells “Coward!”. The man’s hand moves quickly across her face, emitting a loud fleshy sound: a sound that rushes through the ears destroying everything around, the kind of sound that caused instant sadness and a headache in all of its hearers.
“You listen to me you cunt, remember who you’re talking to! You think you’re better than me? You think you have anything on me? You’re just a bored brainless housewife that should be grateful for all I provide you. Now you’ll back off, sit down, and shut your hole until we get home, got it?”
She pushes him away, making him stumble on the table behind him and collapse on the floor. As the drunken fool recovered, the woman grabbed hold of the steak knife on their table and hid it behind her back. As he still tries to get back on his feet, she says “A bored housewife huh? What, you don’t think I know your dirt? You think a brainless woman like me didn’t hear the meetings you have on your study? You don’t think anyone was listening to all those politicians and businessmen getting, one by one, bribed and corrupted by your poison? Well, you better think twice, asshole!”
Her words hit him hard. His face turned red in what could only be interpreted as rage. However, the look on his eyes couldn’t only be anger: it was humiliation, desperation, denial, emasculation ... At that moment he was no longer a man, but a wild animal living only by his survival instincts. To him, it was one of those moments of hunt or be hunted. He jumped across the floor, straight into her feet, and let her fall on the ground along his side. He climbed on top of her, throwing punches at her stomach. He makes his way to her head, forcing her into a kiss as he unbuttoned her shirt. She begged him to stop, but it was useless. She extended her arms to her right side as he ripped off her skirt. A clock started ticking in her head “Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock” as she struggled to break free. He stopped for a few seconds to lower his own pants. Those short, desperate seconds seemed to have been moving in slow motion. It was just enough time for her to take hold of the sharp silver blade that had fallen out her grip during the attack. She dragged it across his back, ripping his skin in an x shaped symbol now made of blood. It oozed over her body, staining what was left of her clothes and liberating her body as it spattered her mouth.
Emma crawled away from the pale lifeless body and starred at it, taking a last look at her husband. When she was about to turn around, a thick husky sound left his mouth followed by laughter. “For a vegetarian you have no trouble with a steak knife huh?”. His motionless body enjoyed his last seconds in the living world, only to be cut short by a strong high heel kick across his face.