one italian summer:

[nora rothchild]

Everyone is here. Five bodies make up the table, including myself. Although I've spent the last six weeks stumbling all across Europe with a couple of my friends, not one Rothchild is missing from their supposed spot at the table. This wasn't my original plan. To be sitting here with my family. I was due back in the States next week but was planning one last hurrah in Dublin. The last time we all got together was for Conor's twelfth birthday nine months ago. And was that a pleasant time? Absolutely not. Patriarch Franklin's presence was dulled by the constant ring of his cell phone. Dean brought his latest flavor the month, although he insisted that this time was serious. Mhm sure, Dean. Katherine's eyes were on the verge of tears majority of the night and she didn't dare try to communicate with Franklin. His foul mood was sensed the moment he opened the front door. So that left me and Conor. We finished celebrating and kept out of the drama. So that's why I was anything but confused when my mom announced the family would be meeting at a villa on the Amalfi coast. We're underneath a beautiful chandelier. Dinner finishing up, desserts and wine spread through the long table. The giant lights above illuminating the villa as the night falls outside. Positano's sea side city becoming alive. The villa's back door is wide open, for a slight breeze to greet us. It smells wonderful. Like sea and what feels like could be happiness. Red wine swirls in my glass as the in-home waiting staff refills with a smile.  Franklin's phone buzzes four times at first. I count the each consecutive buzz. It's obvious when he doesn't pick up the second time that Mom must have had a talk with him. Speaking out about how during family time his phone calls may wait. My eyes roll slightly at the mere thought of the conversation. Tears were probably shed and Franklin most likely put up a big fight, but it would appear that Katherine took the win. The buzzes doesn't cease. My eyes flicker up from the red wine to maintain contact with Dean. Who actually came alone. As it persists in its beeping, the conversation around the table is growing quiet. The buzz total now at ten. Katherine raises her prestigious eyebrow as Franklin sips on his glass of bourbon. Bourbon on ice. A Franklin classic. Another ring goes off, this time the sound being from Katherine's phone. It's here we know something is amiss. Her eyes go wide upon grabbing her phone from the couch. "It's Jordan, our publicist. Is that who's been calling you, Franklin?" "I don't know," he smarts, "I was told I'm not allowed to answer my phone at dinner while on our trip." Hm. My theory confirmed. "I can speak to him though. Hand it over, please."  At this moment, Franklin steps away from the table. Bourbon in hand. Retreating to the balcony that is adjoined to their room. The breeze and the noise from outside doesn't allow us to hear any of the conversation. Kitchen staff begin to clear the table. Everyone at the table, more or less holding their breath until Franklin's return. Jordan never called Mom unless it was an emergency. I instantly think to Dean. What else could he have gotten himself into this time? Dad is always cleaning up his mess. My thoughts are halted when Franklin appears in the doorway, slightly pale. "Katherine. We need you in this conversation." They walk out onto the balcony but don't stop where Franklin was previously sitting. They enter the bedroom. We hear raised voices now that they chose to speak inside, just an old wall separating them from us. "Conor, want to go take a walk with--" I'm interrupted by glass shattering. The wall taking the brute of the hit, but I instantly flinch. Dean is out of his chair in a matter of seconds. He bumps the table on the way up, he mumbles an apology to the wait staff as they are finishing cleaning. The voices have gotten louder.  "What the fuck?!!" Dean bursts in. I'm right behind him. Mom is on the floor hysterical. Her thick eye makeup doing her no justice in the moment. Franklin is pacing. The glass that was in his hand is in pieces on the wall. Liquid slowly dropping from the spot where it made contact. "You just couldn't end it could you?!" Mom screams. I crouch down to her as Dean tries to speak with Dad. "Nora...they know. The whole world is going to know....about...HER." She spits out, it's spoken with remorse and hate. My eyes search her delicate face before my head whips around to see Franklin. Dean is shaking him, I can make out the words to be, 'What are we going to do Dad?' This changes a lot. My heart begins to hurt when I see the face of Conor. Standing in the doorway with a few tears stained on his cheeks. His eyes going wild at the scene and the words that were just spoken by his mother. We've tried to shield him from so much. My heart breaks every second I look at his face. It's been no secret for us that Franklin has had an affair. With the same woman. For ten plus years. He tried his best to hide it. But so it seems, it was coming out now. And this meant a lot would change. I leave my crying mother and hug onto the one everyone seems to forget is still a child. Conor is gripping onto me. Before I hug him, he looks confused. Lost. Hurt. He's twelve and a bomb was dropped into his world. I was an adult, I could survive this. Sure, it was hurting a lot. I hated everyone knowing my business. I could see the fake headlines in my head. As I hold on to him, my eyes begin to haze. They too on the verge of tears. I feel Dean next. He is grabbing my shoulder, prompting me to look up at him. His face unreadable. His hand grips my shoulder a little tighter, as if he's trying to comfort me. His other hand is stroking Conor's back. "Conor, let's go. Let's go on a walk. We're not needed here right now....c'mon. Let's get out of this mess." I whisper into his ear. Pulling back from the hug, I'm leaning over a bit now. I grab his face, wiping a few of the tears away. He nods. Rushing to the front door, he starts to pull it open. I can feel my hands begin to shake as I grab my purse hanging from the shelf. They shake as I pull the door handle shut. Before it's fully shut I hear, "NORA please" cried out by my mother. The hands attached to my body shake more as I lock up the villa behind me. Conor attempts to grab ahold of a shaking hand. The anxiety filling my body just as we take a few steps away from the home. This wasn't over. This mess was just beginning.  Welcome to the downfall of the Rothchild family.