Bella Bernardi - Suburb Blues

I stomped down the stairs of my new suburban home, following my husband with a raised fist. “You listen to me, Ronaldo Bernardi, non vivrò come questo! I will not live like this!”

He shook his head, refusing to turn around and look at me, and just kept striding through the kitchen and towards the front door. “Stop with the dramatics, Bella, por favore.”

I snarled at the disdain that practically dripped from his voice. “Do not patronize me!”

“Oh, how could I? You're only treating a move to the 'burbs like a life-sentence in San Vittorio!”

I grabbed his arm, and used what force I had in my svelte body to spin my heavily muscled husband around. “I cannot stand it, Ronaldo! All I do all day is sit in this house and cook and clean and... ah! Don't give me that look!”

Ronaldo attempted to wipe the smirk off his face. “So doing wifely and motherly chores is torture?”

“It is for me! If you wanted a wifey-wife, you shouldn't have married me!”

“Don't tempt me with the thought, Bella.”



“Ugh!” I slapped his arm, and pointed a thin finger at him. “Why did we move here?! Why couldn't we have stayed in Sim City?! Why couldn't you have stayed in the family business?!” I slapped him again for good measure.

“You wanted me to stay there?” His voice was suddenly low and menacing as he grabbed my wrist and held it tight between our bodies. “Even your father was telling me to get out, that things were getting too hot too quickly, and you wanted me to stay there? Tell me, amore mio, how badly do you want to be a widow?”

“Ronaldo, stop it...”

He jerked my wrist, and squeezed it tighter. “The Rossi family is out to kill me, to avenge Antonio's death, and you're worried about feeding your shopping habit?” His eyes narrowed on my, and I shifted under his gaze.

“Stop it, Ronaldo, you're scaring me....”

“Oh, I'm scaring you now? Salvatore Rossi and his men don't scare you, the idea of your husband being gunned down doesn't scare you, but your shopping habit being threatened, that frightens you?” A cryptic laugh rumbled through his chest. “Do you know what I did for that money, Bella? Do you know how many sims' blood was spilled so you could wear your Gucci shoes, and carry your Prada bags? Do you have any idea?”

I shook my head, and managed to jerk my hand away. “Stop it.”

The two stood silent for a moment, and Bella stared off into the distance. I would not think about those kinds of things, I would not. I didn't have any say in the things my husband did, just as I didn't have any say in the activities of my father, or my brothers, or my uncles, or.... I sighed.

“Bella, listen to me.” Ronaldo's voice was softer now, and I looked up to see that his face had lost it's snarling, menacing expression.

“Why don't you take the train into Downtown Simberry for the day, but ah ah ah! Listen,” he said, noticing how my face lit up at the idea. “You have to be home by the time the girls get back from school. D'accordo?”



“D'accordo!” I grinned, and leaped into his arms. “Andiamo...!” I wriggled out of his grasp and started towards the door, but Ronaldo had hold of my wrist.

“Not so fast, amore mio. I said 'you' can go - I won't be joining you.”

“But Ronaldo!” I whined, my shoulders slumping. “Who will carry my bags?”

“You'll have to carry them yourself, cucciola mia . I have work tonight....”

I was outraged at the idea of actually carrying my own things, but Ronaldo was gone by the time I could muster a reply.