by S. W. Frank
THE FUNERAL OF ALBERTI LUCA
The rain stayed away despite the forecasts of a major downpour and clear skies prevailed. Alberti Luca, supported by the Giacanti clan undoubtedly sent a warning to the heavens and exclaimed, “Not today you don’t, not at my damn funeral, capisce?”
This is what Alfonzo surmised as he rolled his neck to loosen the knots of tension clamping hold to his muscles. Stress wasn’t good for the body, health 101, of course he knew that. What he needed was a quiet vacation. He considered grabbing his family, boarding the plane and aiming for a remote piece of paradise. Maybe, Bora-Bora and call it a day!
But, he couldn’t. There were obligations. Today was Alberti’s farewell service. He was burying yet another uncle and it began to have a sobering effect. You’d think after time he’d feel numb or the pain might have dissipated. See, that’s the misconception about a hardened man, everybody thinks he doesn’t feel shit –but that’s far from the truth. Every emotional bullet caused damage, except with surgical precision he cleaned and sutured the wounds –tightly closed.
Alfonzo fixed his cuff. Alberti was a stylish old G and he wanted to make him proud, so he came clad in his finest in order to ‘represent.’ There wouldn’t be the urban libations and pouring of malt liquor onto the earth for this classy gentleman. He was wine and cigars and sophisticated. That cheap malt brew was for gang-bangers like Alejandro and Pepé. Their funerals were held at storefront churches filled with du-rag wearing hombres in jeans and boots who didn’t bother to wear suits.
Today, he was Italian in appearance, Boricua to the core and merged with roots stretching far to the heart of Africa. He was a Giacanti.
In tribute to Alberti’s good taste in clothes, Alfonzo wore Italian designers for the somber occasion. A black Armani suit, sky blue formal shirt, black silk tie with turquoise pinstripes and Baldaccino hand-stitched leather shoes completed the ensemble. Representative unity to his family, yet to the on-lookers he had the movie star appeal.
Sad eyes scanned the crowd when the limo came to a halt and he checked his watch. Forty minutes elapsed since they’d departed Bianca’s home, but somehow it felt shorter. He’d been preoccupied, thinking about the future, thinking about a lot of things.
He straightened his diamond tie clip. It and the matching cuff-links were birthday presents from Selange four years ago and a prized sentimental possession. Concealed from inquisitive eyes was an inscription which read: A&S 4EVER. He wanted a long future with his woman and wondered if a short existence is where this criminal life led.
“Ready, boss?” Lou inquired scooting toward the door.
Alfonzo nodded and Lou stepped out, visually checked for any dangers and when he was satisfied, he held wide the door. “We’re good.”
Alfonzo emerged from the confines of the tinted limo and was instantly surrounded by bodyguards. He inhaled. Mingled in the air was the scent of tobacco and freshly baked bread. It was sensory stimulation of life and he was very appreciative of it.
Uniformed police cordoned off the immediate area with their marked cars and presence. Among them stood suited men; soldiers from many families. They provided the real protection from unseen threats. In truth, the cops were the figures of power, but they had no authority over these guys.
There were subtle nods of respect from policemen as Alfonzo walked by. In the past he avoided law enforcement like the plague, but he’d come a long way from New York’s inner city and his former aversion to cops. Yeah, he wasn’t the same youngster uncertain of the course. Nah, he walked with determinate strides along the path carved partially by destiny and the other by his hands. Alberti taught him this lesson. “It’s better to live with love than die without it.”
Because of his uncle he had the most important thing a man could have, love in a volatile world. That’s really what it’s about when he peeled away life’s layers. It isn’t about all the other unimportant garbage. He had to sculpt his life to include love and happiness and separate it from adversity. On his deathbed –man he’d have a smile knowing he loved hard, what greater joy could there be for a fucked-up dude?
The size of the curious onlookers didn’t go unnoticed by Alfonzo as he walked past the Baroque statues gracing the entry to the ancient church. An esteemed send-off for his beloved uncle.
The massive antique doors were held open when he approached and another nod of acknowledgment which he returned mechanically. He’d finally contacted Troy and was told the plane was on the ground and his family was en route to the church. His lip curled at the edge as he thought about it. He already knew the second the plane landed. There were men posted at the private airstrip. What he wanted to know from the pilot was the nature of the delay. Troy explained Selange requested they divert after take-off to New York to retrieve other family members and he could not refuse. Alfonzo grimaced; she hadn’t breathed a word to him last night during their phone conversation and he wondered if this was a last-minute plan?
He sighed; his family was safe, that’s the bottom line, but heck that woman might become the death of him and not a bullet.
Nico walked ahead with the widow and his sisters, where they were ushered to the front pew of the huge cathedral. Giuseppe and Sophie trailed behind minus Amelda. She was at her husband’s side in Naples, for the funeral of Don Peglesi. Alfonzo heard Matteo smashed a hospital window when he was given the news of his father’s death and required restraint. To attend his father’s funeral he was released with a nurse and due back immediately. The doctor’s feared infection, or worse.
Alfonzo sent flowers and his condolences to Matteo and his family and planned to drop by to impart personal sympathies.
His shoes connected with the marble floors and he stood in the grand church. Memories of an obedient and awestruck boy returned. The high ceilings dwarfed the mourners, a deliberate reminder to worshippers how infinitesimal man’s existence is in comparison to God. His mother might have phrased it more eloquently, “Si, hijo. It is a symbol of God’s omnipotence.”
As an innocent child he believed in purity of spirit, until he witnessed and experienced the taste of sin. He thought about the whispered spiteful words from the women in the church when they saw the lustful eyes of their husband’s upon his mother. He thought of Father Perez who’d stolen donations and had sexual relations with a troubled girl. He thought of his anger rising at twelve when Sister Nancy struck his hand because he talked during choir practice in front of his friends. It’s during this time he lost innocence and the religious questioning began.
Alfonzo genuflected in the aisle, made an air cross, stood and resumed walking.
He was raised in the church, but what good did the religious teachings do? He was a sinner, probably the worst kind. He hadn’t gone to confession or chanted ‘Hail Mary’s’ for fear he’d instantly incinerate. His eyes flicked over the large bronze figure in the distance; it’s head downcast with jagged metal thorns protruding from it and tensed. All the evil he’d done in his short life left a bloody trail leading to his feet. He carried a great burden, but unlike the biblical figure, Alfonzo chose war and left peace for the staunchly religious man. Books and chants did not shield his family from bullets. Evil men did not seek compromise, they sought destruction. He would not become a martyr, his shortcomings made him unworthy of such distinction. Platitudes were unnecessary when speaking truth to oneself. Justifications were excuses for acting on one’s will. Before he knew he was Luzo’s son, he’d been a troublesome youth; today he was worse, he was a murderous man. He refused to apologize for defending his lot. He chose not to offend the Creator. When the time came he’d accept the punishment for his wicke
d deeds.
The preceding days were testament of his nature and the pile of bodies was the evidence. How could he deny who or what he was, huh?
Getting to heaven wasn’t the objective; keeping his family alive and earthly happiness was his goal. He already resigned himself to the inevitable. When his soul passed over, the doors to heaven would slam in his face. No, he wouldn’t lie; heck he’d cleanse his soul with truth and die an honest man!
Inquisitive stares followed Alfonzo’s steps. They observed a man with impeccable taste, short cropped hair with razor sharp edges and radiant skin. The face and physique were masculine beauty. His gait was strong, unhurried, and confident. Charisma exuded from him and some were in awe. This was Sergio Giacanti reborn.
The brilliant eyes scanned their faces in passing, giving acknowledgment with a respectful dip of his chin and their reaction was one of pride and they claimed the American as their own. The Giacanti’s had come home.
****
The services had yet to start. People continued to arrive and were escorted to designated sections. Immediate family sat in the front pews, distant relatives and dignitaries filled the remaining proximal spaces on the wooden benches. When Alfonzo turned to glimpse the assembly, he noticed the enormous cathedral was packed and he derived comfort knowing Alberti amassed so many friends.
Light streamed in from the multicolored stain glass windows, casting dancing sparkles on the coffin. He gave a hard sigh and a firm hand gripped his shoulder then released. It seemed Giuseppe, too experienced a sense of melancholy and in empathy extended a hand. Alfonzo shuffled his feet and straightened his spine. He didn’t want to feel anymore, not death’s chasm, it’d socked him on numerous occasions. He couldn’t shed tears in the open instead suppressed them for his drink. Yeah, he wallowed in the spirits because he didn’t have to think. But, Selange changed most of that. Her presence in his life gave him so much to live for and hold on to that without her he sank into a pit so deep, climbing out was impossible to do.
“Your family’s here.” Giuseppe whispered.
Alfonzo’s head swiveled to see the mother of his children and blood slammed against his ventricles. The muscle near his mandible pulsed as he tried to contain his excitement at the sight of her and the children. Where were the babies, he wondered? He didn’t see Anita and guessed she left them in her care. Then a speck of joy flashed when he saw the entourage. His mother, Domingo, Teresa, Ariana and her sons were here.
Howthehelldid Selange managethat?
Selange held Allie’s hand. They were pretty in their dresses. Unconsciously, he smiled wider as they neared. He immediately recognized Selange’s Valentino dress and signature shoes. Great minds do think alike, he mused. His chest expanded with pride. Sal wore a new suit and his unruly curls were trimmed and his hairline etched to perfection, undoubtedly Domingo’s handiwork. The dude was on point with his cuts. Sal smiled when he saw his dad and scurried ahead of the usher.
He claimed the space between Alfonzo and Giuseppe. “Hey dad, hey Uncle Geo.”
“Ciao piccolo Alfonzo.”
Alfonzo pat his son’s shoulder, “Missed you, hijo.” Then he tapped Allie’s nose when she drew close and she waved shyly at her dad, the wild thing did then clutched the edge of mom’s dress. This was her first funeral and he wondered if Selange explained death to the child, and then withdrew the thought, of course she did, she’s the teacher and she would never allow the children to attend a funeral unprepared.
Selange took a seat and brought Allie against her side. His daughter sat there obediently and folded her hands. It’s apparent his mother had given the children lessons on church etiquette, because he certainly had not. “Hey babe,” he said to Selange.
She whispered, “Hi, honey, I grabbed more family. I’m so sorry about Alberti, I really am.”
“No hello Geo. No sympathy for me, bella?”
“Hello Geo, my sympathies.”
Giuseppe scoffed, “Be lucky I am sad today and will not make a fuss.”
Selange squint at the irascible man then rolled her eyes. To think she was worried about him…oh…he could be such an ass!
“We’ll talk later, I’m just glad everyone’s safe.” Alfonzo said when he saw her displeasure at Giuseppe. He was tempted to kiss her petulant mouth; instead he gave her an innocent peck on the cheek, conforming to the Catechism regarding chastity of the Catholic Church which he could recite thanks to his mom. ‘Sexual pleasure is morally disordered when sought for itself, isolated from its procreative and unitive purposes.’ In other words, sexual pleasure may be sought only in marriage and for having babies, now isn’t that a bitch?
With antiquated views and written prohibitions regarding sexual pleasure, incidents of sexual scandals were expected. Unmarried consenting adults engaged in kissing or lovemaking in his opinion wasn’t a moral aberration. The affront is compelling a man to go against his nature. Humans are sexual beings, inner conflict and rebellion is expected when forced to change. The id, ego and super-ego are certain to battle and wreak havoc every time. That’s what happens when you’re living in pretense. He frowned. There were disagreements with some teachings, yet he respected the religious beliefs of others. To each his own. An honest sinner is an oxy-moron, so too is a moral less clergy man.
Selange sat regally and he switched gears to check her out. The woman made him proud. She got it, didn’t she? It’s what you think about yourself –and she projected the air of a Queen.
He got busted staring and a twinkle of mutual attraction softened the hazel irises. A slow seductive smile transformed the glossy lips and he winked. It was his unspoken promise to fuck her good tonight.
A hand suddenly rest atop his shoulder and he clasped it recognizing the unadorned fingers of his mother. “Thanks for coming mama.”
“Of course I’m here.”
Alfonzo released her hand as he turned to greet Domingo and his wife. “You, too primo and Teresa, I missed your asses.”
“Silencio, not in here, hijo!” His mother scolded.
“Si, mama, losiento.” He answered apologetically then twisted around. He was an obedient child, once more.
Soon, the funeral began and throughout the service, Alfonzo peered at his kids and Selange. He noticed she grimaced quite a bit and he placed a hand atop hers and received a thin smile. She slid her fingers through his and squeezed really tight. And, that’s how they comforted each other. Conjoined souls, fingers interlocked, both staring beyond the lavish coffin adorned with the black and gold Giacanti crest to the decorative tiles in the pattern of the sun. They reflected on the past and how their tragedies intertwined. Although, it was another sad day in their lives, somewhere in the burnt ruins love blossomed and like today, in the aftermath, they drew strength from each other. The heaviness lifted from Alfonzo’s chest and for the second time since she arrived, he saw light appear from the dark.
CHAPTER ONE
“How’s your arm?” Alfonzo asked Selange as the security outfitted Alfa Romeo limo rolled down the highway.
Their vehicle was fifth in a fleet of similar bullet resistant cars en route to Bianca’s home. It was done. The funeral was over and the final farewell to his uncle had taken him to the cemetery where his father rested, not far from their ancestor, a King.
Sal and Allie were fast asleep on the opposing seat with his mother. This was the couple’s first quiet moment during an emotionally draining afternoon.
Alfonzo was anxious to get the family home, but Sophie insisted they stay a few days. When Sophie insist
ed, he never had a chance. She implored with those piercing eyes and said it’s her excuse to cook for a large family and ah –how in the world could he refuse?
Selange shifted in the seat and his attention focused on her, again. “You never answered my question. Are you okay?”
“It’s hurting, but it’s manageable.” She said. The truth is, she found it useless complaining. She could handle the pain. Thankfully it wasn’t worse.
He loosened his tie and kicked out of his shoes, then gripped her waist. He stretched out his limbs on the plush seat and slid her between his legs. She reclined against his torso. Now they were comfortable for the long drive back to Palermo.
Alfonzo stroked her uninjured arm, “It was hard wasn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“The funeral.”
“Oh.” She put a hand over his wrist as it settled on her stomach and sighed, “It was hard on both of us.”
He kissed the top of her hair then rest his chin there. “You made it easier by bringing back-up. That meant a lot to me babe, it really did.”
“You mean a lot to me.”
His hand caressed her stomach. The silky cotton fabric of her dress formed a barrier between his fingers and her flesh. Holding Selange during the ride and watching the landscape as it rushed by had a soothing effect. He wanted more quiet moments with her. The time spent apart dug a wide chasm of regret in his heart. He missed the birth of the twins and months of paternal bonding. There was a lot to make up for. His eyes rested on her ring-less hand and his brow furrowed. When had she removed her wedding ring, he wondered? Then he shook the rocks out of his head. They were divorced; of course she took it off. The fucked-up thing about it is he still wore his. Subconsciously, he knew their hearts were interchangeable and he could never free himself nor did he want to.
“When we get home, we’re dating.”
Selange laughed. Did she hear him right, dating, since when did Alfonzo court anybody? Matter-of fact, she recalled taking him on several dates. “You mean hook-up, right?”
