Vera Bianchi

Vera Bianchi Prologue:  "Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions. Their lives a mimicry. Their passions a quotation."  -Oscar Wilde As I read ‘De Profundis’ sitting on my California king bed in beautiful France, I knew my life was anything but ordinary, or like anyone else's. And yet I found happiness evaded me and I knew why. My chateau in France was over 30,000 square feet, our gardens of flowers and rare plants were over 2 acres. The ecstasy of the interiors amazed me every day even though it was my home for six months out of the year for as long as I can remember. My family’s villa in Italy matching our chateau in both size and beauty was my living quarters for the other six months. I am an incredibly loved individual, while my sister, Baye, must love me most; Papa couldn't have been far behind. On the surface, my life seemed like a fairytale… But I had a secret… And the pain of it was only beginning to bud. I'm 17 years old, my name is Vera Bianchi, and this is my story.   It was a hot June day in Paris France. After I read that passage from Oscar Wilde, I decided I needed to get out to think. I left my bedroom picking up my bodyguard on the way out. I found myself strolling the gardens thinking and contemplating on the meaning of happiness, and if happiness was something that was genuinely attainable. If so, shouldn't one's pursuit in life be joy? Happiness means entirely different things to everyone, so what would be the price I would pay for the ultimate gift? While my meditation of late seemed to paint on my face the picture of pain, only one person seemed to notice, Stefan, my bodyguard. He wasn't much older than I in age; however, his temperament is that of an old, old soul. He never left my side of course, which was something of a nuisance sometimes. Most of the time it was great, he was witty and funny, serious and passionate. No one knew these parts of him but me. I knew him best, and he knew me best. This is why I don't want him around right now! I was going to make a decision that would alter the course of my life; I wanted privacy. "Vera, is something wrong?" He asked in his French accent. "I know I can't hide anything from you Stefan," I said with a deep sigh, "so all I'm going to say is that I have a lot on my mind. I would appreciate some space." Even though he was good at doing what he was told by my Papa, toward me, he was pushy and a little nosy. But we had an understanding because we were around each other all the time, if either of us wanted some personal privacy, it would be granted--no matter what. He nodded in recognition of what I said, and I continued mauling over my plight. I wanted to try out a ‘normal' life. Though I knew it mattered not your status and monetary wealth, I figured I wanted to go somewhere that was populated by people who lived simpler lives. Perhaps they were happier than my pretentious and ostentatious friends and surroundings. I made up my mind then and there that I was going to go to a public school in a foreign country; it had to be foreign or else I would not honestly be free. "I'm sorry to disrupt you Vera, but I think you need to start getting ready for the gala." Stefan wasn't looking at me, and his tone sounded as though he'd broken some kind of promise by speaking to me. "Yeah," I pursed my lips, "I guess you're right." We walked back to the chateau; everyone was hustling and bustling to prepare for the evening. It was simply magnificent seeing how different it all looked. Tonight was a unique white and black occasion; the schedule tonight involved dinner, ballroom dancing, and a show put on by a local ballet studio. I usually knew every detail of the parties Papa put on, but not this time, and not for the last three months or so. There was a shift in the wind because I started realizing the life I lived was a miserable one only the selfish and greedy would trade everything for. Everyone else wouldn't touch it to save their lives. It all started when Baye and I walked through the streets of Paris; we were shopping as usual. I felt adventurous that day and insisted we try a new bakery for lunch. I wanted to go to the impoverished part of town because I heard the bakeries there were better. Something about putting your heart and soul into your work when you lived scantily and needed customers was I all I could think the reason could be for such a possible fact. After all, they couldn't afford the best ingredients.  I wasn't scared because we had a platoon of bodyguards. After begging Baye, she finally agreed. Walking through the streets I was mortified, it stunk, and the people were stick-skinny from starvation. One picture, in particular, stuck out in my mind of a little boy 6 or 7; he had a crutch handmade of wood. He lied on the gross and dirty streets with no one around; he was ready for death to take him, I could tell. I ran out to him and Stefan, of course, followed the closest. My face was twisted in concern. "Hey! Please, let me get you some food! Wait right here, don't move!" "J'ai besoin de nourriture." (I need food). ‘‘Okay don't….Move." I looked up at Stefan and went back to Baye and the army of bodyguards. I quickened our pace to the closest bakery. As we entered, the man at the counter gasped lightly, I let it slide and greeted him kindly. "Hello, can I please get 12 of the best things you make? Also, there is a little boy on the street with a wooden crutch. I don't know his name but please give him at least one meal a day for the next year and deliver it to him. I'll pay for it in advance." "Ah, oui! Hold on one moment, madam." The kind baker said happily. Another man walked out from the back about my age. I supposed the gentleman at the counter was his Father. After the young man gawked for a minute, he gained his composure and looked at his Father ready to take orders. This pleasing attention was not something new to Baye or me. We waited patiently for the food. The young man and the Father came out with a lot of food, as we dug in the father spoke softly. "Pardon me, are you the Bianchi sisters?" My sister couldn't have been bothered by the gentleman because of his class in society; this was something I disliked very much about her. So I was the one who answered him. "Yes, does my Papa, have the pleasure of knowing you?" "No, but your family is well known on the streets. And the beauty of the daughters is also spoken of, although no one knows what you actually look like." I knew what he was saying; he was saying it very politely. He was talking about my Papa's iffy dealings that were a significant source of income to this part of town. Papa didn't amass his vast wealth just by transactions that were entirely legal. Baye smirked at his comment about ‘the beautiful daughters.' She basked in the attention she received on that topic. I, on the other hand, was already ready to change the subject. He spoke again, "Please forgive my bluntness. What is your name miss?" "Vera, and yours?" "Ah, a beautiful name for a beautiful young woman. Enzo, Madam. You seem very kind; I do pity you." "I'm sorry?" "I would never throw my family to the wolves like your Father, madam, er Vera." "You are quite bold, Enzo." He suddenly realized exactly what he said, and he saw the fury in Stefan's face. He shifted his pleasant and ignorant attitude to fear. My eyebrows rose, and my face became playful, "I like you!"  Stefan threw me a look because he knew I loved it when people were daringly themselves, and honesty was something I valued. I also figured he was coming from a good place; he seemed so genuine and kind. I further asked, "How do you know my family so well?" "Your Father often hires people from around here for his maidservants and manservants. Usually, those that come from this background expect little and work very hard. When they come home, they always have the most elaborate stories to share." Enzo took a liking to me, and he also sensed my tendency to like people like him. I flattered him, and he was about to peel into a deep conversation of right from wrong with all his knowledge, and opinion on the matter when Stefan interrupted. "It's getting late; I think it is time for us to leave," He eyed the baker unkindly. I was disappointed, but I knew he was right. "Another time my friend, I will visit you, and we can discuss a plethora of philosophical theories." Enzo was quite pleased both about me and about the smarts he suddenly felt he had. You could see the confidence gleaming from his face. I got up to settle the account when we left. On the way out of the bakery, I saw the little boy scarfing down the food he was given. I walked up to him and gave him the rest of the lunch I didn't eat. "I have bought a meal a day from that bakery for you for a year. I don't think they'd be dishonest and keep the food from you, but I like to help keep honest people honest. Please be sure to eat there every day." The little boy began to cry. "Oh, thank you miss!" I left feeling on top of the world. It wasn't until later that Enzo's words started to sink in. What could he mean by Papa throwing us to the wolves? Undoubtedly Enzo was wrong, what could he know about my family? But the seed was planted, and I couldn't help but think about it, I always needed to explore the truth. When the occasion arose, I would speak to Anna, my personal maid about the matter. After we got home that day, Papa announced another party and presented Baye and me with gifts. Papa's love language was most definitely giving gifts. They were dresses that were of the most exceptional quality and color, the gifts he bought us often coincided with some plan of his for fun. As we prepared for the party at that time, I seized the opportunity to talk to Anna; my bedroom was the only room Stefan didn't join me in. He was always outside my door ready to follow me when I left. "Anna?" I asked shyly while she was busy making my bed. We talked all the time, so that part didn't startle her, what did alert her was my morose and severe tone. "Yes?" She asked cautiously. “Does my Papa throw Baye and me to the wolfs?”  She tried to brush off the topic, and I could see the panic in her eyes. "That is a vague question Vera, shall I fetch you some water?" "Please, Anna! I know you know what I'm asking. I can feel something is wrong, like something bad is going to happen- lurking in the shadows if you will." Her eyes pleaded with me to let the subject go. But, once a moment passed and she saw that my desperation was thicker than hers, she revoked her silence. She hid her face that was blushing and even had tears in her eyes. She suddenly came at me with a high pace and stopped just short of a foot from me and grabbed both my arms. Her face was intent and determined as though this was something she had rehearsed in her mind a lot. "Vera, I have been here for a long time now. And I have seen many things take place in this household. Please do not be angry with me!" "Anna, I will only be angry if you do not tell me everything." She was relieved and passionate. "Your Mother, may she rest in peace, treated you and your older sister like show dogs. She dragged you to dance classes, rhetoric classes, voice lessons, and classes on how to hold yourself, even how to walk. She molded you to be supermodels at 9! 9 Vera… You were supposed to be playing with dolls!" As she spoke, I realized how right she was. And it hurt, up to this point I had never thought of my perfect life to be anything but, well, perfect. Anna continued, "But at least she had a limit. Your Papa does not. He flaunts you and Baye to his business friends. And his gifts are often something to make you more appealing to the eye. Just look at how provocative this dress is, Vera!" I looked, and I saw what she was saying. I had never noticed! But then I thought back on the gifts I received from him, and they all seemed to serve some purpose or another. For some reason, it always felt like it might have even been just to gain my affections. Could it be true that his love is selfish? If so, why- what was his gain? "Why would he do this?" "Vera, you do not know this, but he offers a night with Baye as part of his business dealings to persuade the buyer or seller to whatever it is he wants. It's only a matter of time until you are next.  He's been grooming you for years. Think about it, Vera…. What does your gut tell you right now?" I started thinking…I somehow recalled one morning when I left my room and saw a man named Alan Pierce leaving Baye’s room. Funny thing is that I know for a fact that he had just bought something from Papa. I remembered another time in a party a little while back where Papa introduced Baye to another man. He shot her a wink and bit his lip in a creepy way. He too had bought something valuable… It wasn’t conclusive evidence, but something told me that this was correct. "You-you're right" I stammered. "Anna, what do I do?" "Runaway, Vera! Sooner or later you're going to be more than just eye candy to your Papa's business partners. And you'll be the bargaining chip for him to get something he wants. He's created an illusion of you to others as being a piece of fine art, or a rare jewel. You must RUN!"