“Plum, I think.” Nonsense talk, under the circumstances. But also, I’m correcting him, and his smile as well as his wink tell me this kind of thing will be tolerated on a temporary basis. I turn to Massimo and hand him his lunch.

“Glad you’re here,” he says.

“Why? I don’t have to be here for this.”

“We can reaffirm the promise too.” Leaning on his cane, Massimo puts the bag on the floor.

“Why kill one bird,” Uncle Caesar chimes in, “when you can get two stoned?”

He chuckles at his joke. I’m not supposed to laugh at off-color jokes, so I don’t. Also, it’s not funny.

“Sarah,” Massimo says, “Uncle Caesar and I were wondering, do you want Lucari to sign?”

So, Uncle Caesar is in the loop on everything. In a way, I’m glad my brother isn’t without allies.

“Do you think he’d sign it?” I scoff.

“For his freedom? He might.”

“I’d sign the hell out of it,” Uncle Caesar adds.

“No,” I say. “You wouldn’t. No one tells either of you what to do. He wouldn’t sign it, then you’d kill him. He’ll see right through it. Nice try.”

“Father Martino.” Massimo reaches into his jacket. I catch a glimpse of the black lump of a gun under his left arm, but he pulls out a pen. “We’re ready.”

The priest rushes over. He confirms my brother and uncle’s identities and their relationship to the bride. Then he turns to me, which is surprising, but I’ve never seen one of these.

“Sarah Colonia. Do you undergo this annulment willingly?”

My pause is just for the record. It doesn’t matter. I don’t even have to be here.

This procedure is for husbands who are in comas. The ones who get stuck with outsiders in prison. The few who are severed.

No once cares what I say, but I have to say something.

Yes is true.

No is true.

Yes or no?

“Sarah Colonia,” the priest repeats, “do you undergo this—”

“Leave her,” Massimo interrupts, taking the pen and signing.

Yes is a lie. I am unwilling. I love Dario and I am his wife forever. This annulment is what’s false.

No is a lie. I chose this. I am responsible.

“Yes,” I say as Massi hands our uncle the pen, not that my consent is anything more than a matter of record. “I undergo this annulment willingly.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic!” comes a voice from my left. Sergio saunters in with a bouquet of pink carnations. “I knew you were into me, babe.” He offers me the flowers, but I don’t take them. He tosses them on a pew. “You look hot in that color.”

“Now for the promise,” Father Martino says, slipping another page out from what Uncle Caesar just witnessed.