The Italian

by T L Swan

  I hold the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip…that makes one of us.

  “Can I see you when you come back to Rome?” I ask.

  “I’ll think about it,” she says casually.

  I glare at her, infuriated beyond belief. No woman has ever played with me before.

  She bursts out laughing. “Rici, you are so easy to rile up. I’ll be counting the days until I see you again.” She picks up my hand and kisses my fingertips. “You’re my sun, remember?

  “I don’t like you traveling alone.”

  “I’m not alone, I’m with Natalie.”

  “And what about when Natalie picks up a man? What then?”

  “Then I will do what I’ve been doing since we were sixteen. I’ll go home alone. We have our own rooms for this reason.”

  I watch the road, angered by my sudden outburst of jealousy. What the fuck is this?

  “I’m staying at the same hotel when I come back in two weeks,” she says.

  “You’ll be staying with me.” Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t even act cool for a moment.

  “Okay. Will you pick me up from the airport?”

  “If I can get off work.” I think for a moment, and then hand her my phone. “Can you put my number into your phone, please?” She types it in. “Now put me in yours.” She dials her number from my phone, and it registers the call. “Call me as soon as you get there tonight so I know you’re safe.”

  “Okay.”

  “And trust nobody down there,” I add.

  She rolls her eyes. “Rici.”

  “Don’t Rici me. I know how fucking seedy men think.”

  “Did you just admit that you’re a seedy man?” She smirks.

  “Olivia,” I warn. “I mean it. Don’t go anywhere alone. I don’t want you in danger.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She rolls her eyes dramatically.

  We pull into the airport parking lot, and my stomach sinks.

  I don’t want her to go.

  We stand in the boarding lounge, holding hands, looking at each other.

  “Last call!” the attendant announces.

  “You have to go,” I say. Her eyes search mine. “Have a safe flight,” I whisper as I pull her into an embrace.

  “See you in two weeks.”

  “Yes.”

  She smiles sadly. “Will you call me?”

  I stare at her as I begin to feel myself lose the battle of remaining silent. “Every day.” She wraps her arms around me, and our lips touch. “We had a crazy weekend, yes?”

  “Crazy good. Call me tonight?” she asks in a whisper.

  I suddenly become aware of the people around us staring at our long-winded goodbye. Self-conscious, I step back from her, our hands still linked. “Safe travels, bella.”

  She smiles softly and hunches her shoulders together. “See you soon.”

  I tuck my hands into my pockets. “Not soon enough.”

  She gives me a fingertip wave and blows me a kiss. I watch her disappear into the departure gate, an overwhelming sense of dread filling me.

  Because she’s gone.

  Because I won’t see her for fourteen days.

  Fuck.

  I turn and leave the airport. I’m crossing the parking lot when my phone rings.

  I smile broadly when I see it’s my mother calling.

  “Ciao, Mamma.”

  “Enrico, devi andare all’ospedale,” my mother’s panicked voice says.

  “What?’

  “Get to the hospital immediately. There’s been a car accident.”

  My face falls. “Who?”

  “Your father and your grandfather. They were driving to Roma this morning when it happened.”

  “What?” Panic sets in. “Are they all right?”

  “Just get to the Gernelli University Hospital, Enrico. The rest of the family are hours away. We are on our way now. Andrea is in Paris for work, and Mattia is still in France.”

  My thoughts go to my sister. “Where is Francesca?”

  “She’s coming with us. Get there, Enrico—hurry.” She begins to sob, and I know that this is serious.

  “Okay, Mamma, I’m on my way. Don’t worry, it will be okay.”

  Twenty minutes later, I am running up the corridor toward the intensive care unit of the hospital.

  “Hello,” I pant to the girl on reception. “Giuliano Ferrara was brought in here, alongside my grandfather Stefano.”

  Her face falls. “What is your name, sir?”

  “Enrico Ferrara. Can I see them?”

  “Just a moment. “ She picks up the phone and calls someone. “We have Enrico Ferrara here.” She listens for a moment. “Yes, he is Giuliano’s son.”

  I look between her and the other nurses as they make eye contact. “What’s wrong?” I snap as unease fills me.

  “Take a seat,” she says kindly. “The doctor is on his way.”

  I begin to pace as I drag my hand down my face. “I don’t want to see the doctor. I want to see them. Now.” I’m getting agitated. As a cop, I’ve been on the opposite end of this conversation way too many times.

  Two doctors come into view, and the look on their faces… I’ve seen it before.

  “Mr. Ferrara, can you come into the office with us, please?”

  The room starts to spin. “No.” I flare my nostrils to try get a hold of my emotions. “You tell me here.”

  “Please, sir.” The female doctor grabs my elbow to lead me into the office, and she closes the door behind us.

  I clench my hands at my sides as I brace myself.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but your father didn’t make it.”

  I stare at her.

  “The impact of the car accident caused massive head injuries. He died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. They did everything they could to try and save him but in the end, it wasn’t enough. Please have comfort in knowing he wasn’t in any pain.”

  My brows rise by themselves as I grab the wall to support myself.

  “Your grandfather is in critical condition in the intensive care unit.”

  I stare at the floor through my tears as my throat begins to close up.

  He didn’t make it.

  No.

  Papa.

  “Would you like us to contact the rest of your family for you?”

  “No.” I close my eyes as I try to regain some strength. “I’ll tell them. They’re on their way.” I put my head into my hands.

  Papa.

  “Would you like to see your grandfather?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Give me a moment, please?” I whisper as tears well in my eyes.

  “If there’s anything we can do.”

  “Leave me alone!” I snap angrily.

  The door quietly clicks closed, and I screw my face up to fight the tears. I tip my head back to the ceiling. “No, Papa… no.”

  Then, I lose all control.

  My beloved father… gone.

  No.

  I slide down the wall and sit on the floor in a crumpled heap as my new, dark reality begins to sink in.

  My Papa.

  I stare at the wall through tears…this can’t be happening.

  Three hours later, the sound of the heart monitor feels somewhat comforting.

  Beep…

  Beep…

  Beep…

  I stare at my grandfather Stefano’s black and blue face. He is unrecognizable.

  The doctors are coming and going. They don’t think he’s going to make it.

  I can tell by the language they’re using. It’s already past tense.

  My mother, grandmother, and Francesca will be here in two or three hours.

  How do I tell them?

  How in the hell do you tell someone that their husband of forty years has died?

  They loved each other… so much.

  And my beautiful baby sister—the apple of her father’s eye.

  The tears well again as I imagine her heart when I tell he
r he’s gone.

  “Mr. Ferrara,” the nurse says softly.

  I turn to her, dazed.

  “Your grandfather has a visitor. He said he needs to see him as a matter of life and death.”

  I frown. “Who is it?”

  “He said he is your father’s best friend. His name is Marcello. He happens to be in Rome by chance.”

  I stand. “Yes, of course. Let him in.”

  She goes outside and returns with the man following her, and my face falls.

  “Hello, Enrico.”

  I frown.

  He bends, kisses my grandfather on each cheek, and he begins to cry.

  “Stefano. Stefano, no, no. You fight, do you hear me? You fight. We need you,” he whispers. He drops to his knees and begins to pray.

  I watch him as the tectonic plates in my entire existence begin to shift.

  I know who he is.

  Every policeman in Italy knows who he is.

  What the fuck is he doing here?

  Marcello Baroni is a hitman—the darkest of dark criminals.

  “How do you know my grandfather?” I ask.

  His eyes rise to meet mine. “He’s my boss, Enrico.” Our eyes are locked. “He’s the boss.”

  “Liar,” I whisper. “Get out. Get out.” I walk to the door and open it in a rush to see the ICU waiting room full of men in suits. My eyes roam to them, every one a familiar face.

  Criminals.

  The worst kind.

  The ones you read about in history books.

  Some are on their knees praying, while some are gripping rosary beads… but they’re all crying.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I murmur.

  Beeeeep.

  I turn in a rush to see the heart rate monitor alarm going off. Nurses rush in from every direction.

  I press my hands to my head as I begin to panic. Loud sobs come from behind me, some of the men openly crying now.

  What the fuck is going on here?

  The doctors and nurses work on my grandfather.

  People are running around and calling out different instructions.

  Clear…

  Clear…

  Clear…

  The room is a clusterfuck of panic.

  They pump his chest to try and restart his heart.

  I feel a strange detachment, as if I’m watching this from way up above.

  No, this day cannot be happening. All of this… it can’t be happening.

  The line on the monitor goes flat, and I hold my breath.

  “No, no, no,” I begin to chant. “Don’t go, don’t go.”

  The doctors and nurses work on him and work on him, until finally, they stop.

  The commotion dies down and the room falls still. An eerie silence fills the space.

  It’s as if I can feel his energy leaving the room.

  He’s gone.

  After a moment, the nurse closes his eyes with her hand, and the doctor turns to me. “I’m so sorry, sir. We did everything we could. His injuries were too severe.”

  I stare at her, numb.

  “We will leave you alone to say your goodbyes.”

  The medical team turn and leave, and I’m left with a waiting room full of strangers.

  I kiss my grandfather on both cheeks through my tears.

  “Look after one another,” I whisper.

  I brush his hair back from his forehead as I stare at his beaten face. My tortured eyes rise to meet Lorenzo’s who is now on his knees crying, and I nod.

  Granting him silent access to say his goodbyes.

  I stand at the back of the room and watch on as one by one the men come and kiss my grandfather goodbye. Each one whispers words of love and respect to him as they openly weep. My mind goes to my grandfather—the loyal, wonderful man I know…

  Knew.

  Who was Stefano Ferrara?

  Where the hell does my family’s money come from? If it’s old money, how far back does it go?

  My stomach rolls at the thought. This is a mistake. A terrible mistake.

  The walls start to close in. This is too much. I have to get out of here.

  I have to get the fuck out of here. I turn to leave, and Lorenzo drops to his knees at my feet. He picks up my hand and kisses the back of it.

  I frown as I stare down at him, and then I look up at the men as they all collectively drop to one knee and bow their heads.

  “Il capo,” Lorenzo says.

  “Don,” the men all repeat.

  Horror dawns.

  Don means leader.

  I’m the oldest son. With my father gone, I’m next in line.

  But next in line to what?

  5

  Enrico

  I sit in the foyer of the hospital and stare at a spot on the carpet. The carpet is new—recently laid. Why has it been replaced? Did someone tear it up in a grief-fueled rage?

  I wouldn’t blame them if they did.

  I’m waiting for my family—my mother, grandmother and Francesca—to arrive.

  It should be any moment now. It’ a six-hour car trip. If I’d have known how this was going to turn out I would have suggested they fly.

  In hindsight, it’s for the best. I wouldn’t have wanted them to see what I have today.

  Even as a policeman, where death is all around, nothing could have prepared me for this. Nobody should have to see their loved ones on their deathbeds. It’s a cruel reality that’s better off left alone.

  I glance at my watch for the tenth time this hour. I didn’t want to tell them over the phone that our whole world just came crashing down.

  How could I?

  So, I’ll wait here, to tell them in person.

  I look around the lounge area, to the few men who have stayed behind to wait for my mother, and I wonder what their role is.

  Did mother know?

  Did she know what her husband and father-in-law were capable of?

  My stomach twists. What were they capable of?

  It doesn’t make sense, any of this. Criminal families bring their children up in the midst of it. They teach their children the ropes—prepare them for the life they will lead.

  I didn’t know.

  I think back to when my father pushed me into the police force. His words come back to me.

  You need this life experience, Enrico, trust me. One day, you will need it.

  Did he know? Of course, he knew.

  I think of the money, the real estate, the lifestyle, and the special treatment everywhere my family go, and I clench my jaw. How the fuck did I not see this? Why didn’t it ever occur to me that this was my family’s history?

  A few times through my life I’d heard rumblings. I once asked my father if the stories were true, too. He told me that most people are jealous of success, and that of course it would be rumored that they were criminals.

  Jealousy was the root of all evil, he told me, and I believed him.

  Maybe it’s not true. Maybe this is all a big mistake.

  I glance at my watch again. Where are they?

  The door opens with a flurry of activity, and I stand and watch as they run in.

  “Rico!” my mother cries. “Are they all right?”

  I make eye contact with Roberto, my mother’s driver, and he drops his head.

  He already knows. He isn’t a driver at all. He’s a bodyguard.

  The three of them look up at me, their faces filled with hope, and my eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” Mother’s face falls.

  “They didn’t make it, Mamma.”

  “No. Stefano?” my grandmother cries.

  I shake my head as my face twists in pain.

  “Nooooo!” my grandmother cries out. Her step falters, and she stumbles in shock.

  Francesca grabs the wall for support as men come in from around me to hold up the girls as they each fall apart.

  This is why the men stayed. They knew I couldn’t do this alone.

  �
��No, Enrico, no,” Mother wails as I hold her in my arms. Her shoulders shake, and I can hardly hold her up. “Tell me it’s not true. It’s not true! It can’t be true.”

  To the sounds of sobbing, my gaze falls to the carpet once more, and I wish I was anywhere but here. My beautiful family has fallen apart.

  It’s a dark day.

  The darkest.

  I stare into space as I sip my amaretto. It’s dark outside, and my apartment is quiet.

  This afternoon, we went to the morgue to give a formal identification. After that, the doctor had to sedate my grandmother and mother. They completely lost it.

  Francesca is lying down, and my brothers are on their way. I’m sitting here with no idea what to do. Lorenzo, my father’s best friend, is in the apartment, quietly trying to help. How can he? This is irreparable.

  Men are out on the street, subtly surrounding the apartment, and I know we are now under guard. From what, I don’t know.

  The door buzzes. I go to the intercom and see a familiar face. It’s Mario, the family solicitor. We know him well. He attends all our family events. He’s been around for years and years. I open the door and wait until he comes into view.

  “Rico,” he whispers sadly. We hug and cling to each other for an extended time. His presence is only adding to our reality.

  “Please come in.” I step back, and he walks past me into the apartment before turning to me.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Upstairs.”

  I frown. “I can’t leave the girls.”

  “They’re safe. The place is surrounded.”

  I stare at him, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion. Safe from what?

  “There are papers in the offices upstairs that I need to show you. Where is Lorenzo?”

  “He’s here.”

  “You will need him.”

  Our eyes are locked. Why will I need him?

  Lorenzo comes into view. He’s openly weeping with tears are running down his face. He grabs Mario in an embrace.

  “We need to talk to Enrico,” Mario whispers as he holds his friend.

  Lorenzo’s eyes find mine. “Yes, yes, I know.”

  I follow them upstairs to the top floor to my grandfather’s apartment. I don’t know what’s going on here, but everyone else seems to. I can’t focus, I can’t feel… I’m numb.