Amoroso

by S. W. Frank

  “Memory is the scribe of the soul.”

  -Aristotle

   

   

  I meditated in the evening glow. An orb of beauty’s only rival is the universe. The stars and the moon are without a master. There is a peaceable coexistence without wars, to which I find pleasing, although there are disruptions by an occasional comet or bolts of thunder, violently loud.

  Here among the gentler people of Eritrea, I find there is a similar beauty known to me. I miss the face of mother, her gentle voice in my ear and the aroma of her sauces. To look upon her once more and that of my fratello is the reason I traveled to the shores of a former home less than a week ago. Perhaps, folly led me to the soil, which I abandoned several years hence. In the night, disguised among the shrubbery is the act of a ladro, sneaking about with nefarious intent. However, my cause was simply to assuage the silent ache of missing what is dear to the heart. My familiarity with the secret entry to which my fratello and I were privy is how I spied upon famiglia. My progression halted at the side room of the cellar at the sounds of a woman’s plea and male sobs.

  “…Donna Giacanti, por favore. I implore you to have mercy.  Spare my husband. We have seven children.”

  I heard nothing from my mama. It is the guilty host which remains eerily within to have bared witness to a heinous act to which I failed to intervene. My silence then has set my pen to quiver as I transcribe.

  I peered through the crack, into the meeting chamber to see my papa, fratello and somberly masked soldati with my mama in the center.  Standing, I assumed was the woman speaker, beside a man in clothes with fine stitching with his hands pressed as if in prayer, simpering with such forlorn agony, I became incensed. He was an important person. These details are evident by his attire.

  My mama held an ornate blade that she plunged into the man’s heart and he fell to his knees, the hands in imploration had clutched his chest. The gurgling sounds were piteous as were the wails of the female before my mama sliced her neck.

  Her answer to the pleader as she committed the butchery was as merciless as the violent death. “You ask for leniency for your husband. I impart justice.  Join the oath breaker since you fail to request I spare your life for the sake of your bambini –foolish wife!”

  I turned away, sinking to the floor, resting my back after having felt an ache from a prolonged crouched position. My mama is not this vicious person I see, yet she is as the skies, and thus predisposed to storms.

  Rustling noises emanated from the chamber after papa ordered the soldati to immediately dispose of the bodies.  He sent my fratello to ensure the remains were properly interred. How long I sat with my back against the stone and iron, I am uncertain. Within, this frame of time my mama began to cry after the deceased were removed.

  “Bella, you gave mercy. Your ancestor’s knife was far too grand for the whimpering traitor. I thought to shoot him to have silence.”

  “We could have given leniency amore. Certainly, exile.”

  “Ne! We cannot afford the witnesses to observe our compassion bella. The act is just. Hush, forego your sorrows and place them upon my chest.”

  “The bambini, what of them?”

  “They are well cared for by their grandparents who will not breach our trade agreements. When the eldest is of age, he inherits the debt.”

  My mama sighed. “I am wounded by the betrayal. Were we not good to his famiglia?”

  My papa bellowed his anger. “Octavio broke his vow, feel nothing for his act of treachery carried out with the assistance of his wife!” He then lowered his voice. The rebellious man who in the provinces toiled to feed his famiglia and engaged in criminal activities with ruffians had affection reserved for his foreign wife. “Dai, let us retire. I will comfort you through the night within my arms.”

  Then, without haste, I crawled through the cramped space, scraping my knees upon jagged rocks covered by leaves and sentiment. This is the life of la prima mafia famiglia, which I fled. No part of this will I heap upon my children. The murderous codes I will not bring upon my future offspring. I denounce such acts. 

  “Mom?”

  Giuseppe’s dog, Gee leaped onto the couch, knocking the book out of Selange’s hand and then leapt down.

  “Crap!” Selange cried startled by the sudden interruption, sitting erect and grimacing at her clumsiness.  The pages crumpled, and part of the heavy book’s spine separated. “I hope you’re charging your Uncle a fortune for taking care of that dog.” She put her feet to the floor and noticed Gee drooling. “Please tell me you wiped off your dad’s equipment.”

  Sal laughed. “Gee didn’t mess with anything. He’s a good dog.  Sorry for the book. We didn’t mean to scare you. I came to say good-night.” He leaned over the back of the sofa to hug her with sweaty arms.  “Don’t stay up too late waiting for dad.” He teased.

  She patted his moist wrist. “Please get a shower before you go to bed,” she said.

  Sal circled the sofa to retrieve her book and sat it on the cushion. “Why, I’m only going to bed?” He joked. His mom didn’t think the comment was funny judging by her expression. “Just kidding, I am. Love you mom, buenos noche.”

  “Good night honey,” she answered with a thin smile. She stared after her eldest as he walked toward the staircase his T-shirt drenched as a result of exercise, Gee beside him like a best friend.

  His blue pajama pants were absent childish images.  They encased his teen legs that grew longer each time she looked.

  Where had the time scurried? 

  The boy with panther leaps up the steps was becoming a man in fast reel right before her eyes. The dog beat him to the top and waited. Sal stooped and rubbed Gee’s fur.

  Selange considered getting him a pet. A mother desperately wanted to protect her son from whatever horrible things the world would bring.  His skin, golden tan as Moroccan sand and dark exotic features was beautiful.  Haters desperately try to slaughter the jubilance of kind hearts and she prayed he remained a loving person.  A mother had faith her son possessed the coping skills to deal with the bad and not become a cynical adult.

  A mother’s love cannot shield a child from the banality of wickedness. However, she prayed her children having known the force of affection called upon those memories whenever they were in a dark place.

  Selange’s attention returned to the disturbing words of Alfonzo’s ancestor.

  Semira had murdered a mother that begged for leniency. 

  What treachery had the woman committed to deserve the harsh penalty?

  Within her musing, the door clicked open. She twisted around as the footsteps in the foyer drew nearer. When the figure came into view, she gazed upon her husband’s weary face and she rejoiced, welcoming him with a smile of relief. “Hi, honey, I’m glad your home.”

  “Hey babe, everything all right?”

  She stood, leaving the book on the sofa to meet him. “Yes. What about you? Everything okay on your end?”

  She slipped her arms around his waist, he’d eaten and the spices clung to his breath.

  Alfonzo nodded, glancing down, absorbing her lovely face. The bags under the eyes were a result of her late-night reading. “Yeah. Come on let’s go to bed, I’m beat.”

  He didn’t talk about his day. What was there to say? Giuseppe was a prick, his mama refused his calls and he had to fly to London to speak to the curator who authenticated an antique. The provenance confirmed what he’d been told. Instructions were given, papers signed and once a date was announced, he’d share the news with his wife.

  Alfonzo took Selange’s hand as they ascended the stairs. A guy who would’ve returned to emptiness after partying on the weekend and weekday looked forward to hitting the sack with his babe.

  He’d told her once, “Anywhere you are is home.”

  How true that statement remained. Love wasn’t his weakness, not loving is what might do him in, he figured. He h
ad strength to lift his babe off her feet, laugh at the twinkle in her eyes and kiss her hungrily on the lips as he carried her into the bedroom, feeling he could conquer anything just by the way she gazed in his eyes.

  “Hey dad! Good-night!” Sal shouted when he passed the door while toweling his hair. He suddenly twisted the wet cloth and whacked his dad in the back of his head.  Gee darted between Alfonzo’s legs, and he lost his balance, and Selange’s plush bottom slipped away from his hands.

  Selange shrieked when her ass hit the floor. “Sal, no you didn’t!”

  Gee ran out when Sal whistled as if he hadn’t done anything. The dog was as wild and unruly as Giuseppe.

  “Oh shit, lo siento, babe!” Alfonzo bellowed as he reached out his hand.

  Sal was in the doorway laughing, until his dad spun around and then the kid took off.

  Selange slid back, resting an elbow on the edge of the bed, waving away his offer of assistance. “I’m fine. Go, get the little sucker and slap him for me.”

  “Run mijo, but you won’t get far!” Alfonzo called to the fleeing youth as he kicked off his shoes before sprinting after the troublemaker. He suspected Sal needed attention and he’d receive some with hard punches –the damn prankster!

   

   

   

   

   

  Chapter 2

   

   

   

   

  “These kiss ass events are wearing on my nerve Al. Some of these people are so boring and phony. I hate pretending their lame jokes are funny or I care about what new this or that their wives acquired, ugh, can’t you just lie?”

  “These are the sensitive people with huge egos. Sometimes we have to pay to play, babe,” he said with false enthusiasm.

  Selange had every right to be upset; he’d come home late, tossed a last minute request on her lap and expected the complaint. She’d spent her day juggling being a work-at-home mom and the job never paid enough by way of rest.

  She had poured over the orphanage’s financials, the charity shortfall, approving a media ad, certainly the children ran her ragged and then he arrived home with a list of demands.

  Alfonzo hated to put on the pressure, however to stay in good with the Prime Minister and his bi wife; he needed Selange on his arm to push a real estate deal through faster.

  The upbeat rhythm got Alfonzo’s head bopping. He stepped from side to side to as he fastened the diamond cufflinks. He required mood music before another obligatory party, that likely would have a corny band and lame birthday speeches.

  Alfonzo smirked at his babe when she slipped on her high heels and stood. She looked sexy-classy but the wrinkled nose relayed her real feelings. She disliked the Prime Minister’s wife, and said the woman creeped her out with the flirtatious stares and frequent touches to her hand when talking.

  “Don’t get mad if she gets bitch-slapped for a violation Al.” Selange warned.

  “I’ll block, but I know you, you’ll handle your business like a lady.”

  “Okay, keep thinking that and when I crack, don’t act like you didn’t know what was underneath.”

  He laughed. “Mami, yo se, believe me.”

  Of course she agreed to attend, because Alfonzo used the word ‘need.’ He did need her there; he wanted as much time with her as he could because he began having bad vibes.

  Damn –damn –damn! He was going through the motions, also. Staying civil to some of the jokers he encountered in politics was as painful as sitting next to a homie whose breath smelled like baked shit. Then he chuckled, reminiscing about New York and the crazy mess he thought was so fucked up about living there, but he missed –real bad.

  He traveled far from Spanish Harlem ‘el barrio’ but sometimes he preferred the honesty of the petty chain snatchers and boosters hocking their stolen merchandise in public than the thieves behind office doors smiling in their nice suits making deals.

  Alfonzo hated he’d become one of them, but he tried to stay real –close to the ground so he wouldn’t have far to fall.

  He danced across the floor, gesturing with his hands, rapping in his tailored suit, performing a serenade thug style to make his babe smile as the song played in real time.

  ‘I’ll hold you down…

  I’ll lift that ass off the ground…

  I’m the one who gonna hold you down…

  You’re the one, who got all of me,

  Give me all of you or all of me…

  We go to Abu Dhabi for a hobby…’

   

  Alfonzo laughed when Selange chimed in, on tune with her dimple grin as he waved his hand in an arc over her head, singing the hook, because he meant that shit.

  “I’m the one gonna’ hold you down…I’m the one gonna’ hold you down,” he repeated, fisting his chest in sincerity. He simulated a steering wheel with his hand, pumping his pelvis to his woman. Selange served as the backbone for him and their kids, keeping them grounded and sometimes never getting her props for making it appear easy when being there for everybody is really hard.

  Selange put her arms around his waist, rested her forehead on his chest and whispered. “Thanks so much for being such a great husband and dad. If going with you is how I show my appreciation, I’ll do it and stop complaining.”

  He rubbed her fluffy hair, smiling as he massaged her scalp. “Yeah…great husband and dad? Ah shit, that’s all I need to hear.” He went hard, blown up by the compliment. Singing loud, making her laugh tears when singing another verse. “I’ll hold you down…I’m on my way…pulling up in that big truck –ba-by!”

  Selange coughed, he’d made her laugh too hard. “I swear Al, you are too much.”

  Sal entered, danced into their huddle, to make fun of his parents. He had gotten to that teen stage.

  “You guys kill me,” he said, wiggling like spaghetti and deliberately off beat.

  Then the entire brood converged on their parents, jumping around dancing, singing off-key and getting the words wrong and shit, but Alfonzo smiled proudly.

  “Come here, give your pop a hug,” he said loudly, grabbing as many as he could for a group hug. He winked at their mom.

  Yeah, he thought, they’re a handful, but holding them down is the oath he’d taken when he married and had children unlike that fucker Luzo.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  ***

   

   

  “When?”

  “The twenty-seventh.”

  “Hmmm, not feeling this shit Nico, I said that tres times.”

  “It’s an unusual meeting, I know, but you need to be there.”

  “Don’t you have a party to attend soon? Why are we discussing business?”

  “I’ll be late –real late. Anyway, business never stops kid. I’ll need an answer before the week is up. This might be your golden opportunity to sway the assholes or stay at an impasse until a truck runs you over.”

  “And to think I’m accused of being too blunt.”

  “Guns and roses came before the band. The only thing musical about this life is the love you experience before the bagpipes.”

  “You dark sonovabitch.”

  “Aint I? That’s what ‘Mira says,” Nico chuckled.

  “Yeah, you’re loco. Nah seriously get your head checked.” Alfonzo leaned on the bathroom counter. The conversation wasn’t for his wife’s ears. The shower provided white noise. Alfonzo checked his reflection in the mirror and twisted his mouth to the side.

  “Everybody has a bit of crazy kid. The one’s that should worry you, are those who swear they’re sane. What the hell is sane about this crazy damn world? Look around.”

  Alfonzo’s eyebrow crept up. “O-kay…. anyway why do you think they’re stres
sing the point?”

  “Maybe as assurance you don’t act up.”

  “They’re too many variables. It might be a La Cupola. I can’t jeopardize anybody.”

  “What’s the alternative, kid? If it’s any consolation I’ll be there, watching your back. You can count on it.”

  Alfonzo mulled over the situation. “Nobody determines who accompanies me.”

  “You can’t kill everybody. These are international players. You fully understand the possibility of not agreeing, right?”

  Alfonzo frowned. “Yeah, that’s why you’re going to stay home. I’ll go with the best I have. You’re needed here if anything goes wrong.”

  “I can’t. I co-captain. We sink together young buck.”

  “Nah, nah. I appreciate you feel that way Nico, but there’s a whole group of people who’ll require your level of expertise. I go –you stay and that’s the order. Violate the shit and you leave our wives, kids and Giuseppe open. They’re all I care about when everything’s said and done.”

  There isn’t a necessity to disclose every truth aloud. Nico knew Alfonzo was right.

  “Listen, I have family in Greece and that old bastard from the 'Ndrangheta if I we need to tap into thin bloodlines. But, everything has a price kid, remember we have to pay to play.”

  Alfonzo scoffed. He’d said the same thing to Selange about paying to play.

  Nico continued talking. “Associates haven’t been silent about their belief you have too much. Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely, is what they’re saying.”

  “You’re quoting Machiavelli, huh geek?”

  “No, that’s Lord Acton, his letter to a Bishop. I hope you don’t think Italians invented noodles, too.”

  Alfonzo shook his head. “Ah man, that’s not something I ponder day-to-day.”

  “Anyway ponder this; you might not like the shit in our line of work but take a long hard look and realize you’re swimming in a cesspool, eventually you’ll die if you’re attempting to avoid inhaling the stench.” Nico sighed. “At least consider taking that stronzo brother of yours.”

  “Hell no, Nicole’s expecting; he’s got his hands full attending funerals and I’m not heaping anymore crap on his plate when he’s pissed at me. Nah –nah my brother stays out of this. They want to talk to me –fine I’ll go but let ‘em know I’ll be there and that’s all I’ll agree to!”