His Lost Little Lady
On the day Tristan Spallone, the head of a mafia family, and I mark our fifth wedding anniversary, the manager of the Spallone family vault calls.
Something that was stored away for a long time has finally come due, and Tristan is to retrieve it. He's so busy that he barely has a moment to breathe, so I go in his place.
What I bring back is an old roll of film. I tell myself it must hold records of secret operations from his youth, or evidence of some unspeakable mafia secret.
But when I have them developed, frame after frame is filled with Winnie Leigh, his first love. Her smile looks so sweet in those pictures that they nearly suffocate me.
What about me, one may ask? I never once appeared on his albums.
The office door slams open. Tristan bursts in, already out of breath. "Anna, have you been snooping through my things?"
I turn toward him, the man who's usually so composed. I neither question him nor break down.
Instead, I speak slowly. "We're getting a divorce."
Tristan frowns and thrusts the stack of photos into the shredder. He then looks back at me. "They're gone. Do you still want a divorce?"
A bitter smile tugs at my lips. "Yes."