Animus

by S. W. Frank

  Alfonzo wanted to fuss, shatter her argument to pieces but she made sense. Selange slid off the bed and walked to her husband. Gave a wry smile, caressed his face and kissed him so softly it melted the anger. Free of the IV and that damn pole, he could hold her. He remained rigid due to the healing ache of his ribs but that did not stop his hands or mouth from claiming what was his. Her ass felt nice. He squeezed and rubbed the material encasing it. The juices clinging to her tongue was sucked and mixed with mint saliva to make an oral cocktail.

  “Ummm….damn…babe!” he cursed when she stroked his ears; hair and temple while pushing her pelvis against his dick and stimulated his senses. Usually, he’d immediately stand at attention but his penis behaved and remained flaccid. This wasn’t worrisome, certainly once he got home, his dick would misbehave –as usual.

   

   

   

  ~ ~

   

   

   

  Rain had not touched Firenze soil. The driver let Nico and Sergio out before concealing the car in a field nearby. Nico hadn’t told Sergio much except that they were making an unannounced visit on a family member. This was true. Not the entire story, but the shorter version sufficed. Anyway, Sergio would only ask more questions and perhaps try to discourage the slaughter of a mother who was nothing but a stranger. The arrogance of the villa’s inhabitants was evident by their shrubbery. Yes, shrubbery!

  Magnificent Cypress trees, so quintessential and symbolic of the Tuscan landscape sat in neat clusters in the beautiful garden whose doors were made of green hedges. Nico snapped their branches to enter. The Tuscan Cypress trees were not originally from Tuscany, they were as many things, taken from another place, in this case Persia and brought to the area by Etruscan tribes thousands of years ago. Stolen verdure was cherished and birthed flesh got discarded.

  How could any mother not want her children? How could a mother not care her son died and forego the funeral? How could a mother seek to kill someone because of their heritage? How could a mother live in splendor when a son’s soul was impoverished?

  She is not my mother. I will snap her neck and feel nothing when I do, Nico silently swore!

  He deliberately stomped the plants in her garden bed. His anger was raw and became a fiery combustion. There she was, his mother in that silly straw hat, tending to her precious flowers with more love than she had for her sons.

  She was alone, a distance from the house, concealed from anyone inside by the same trees that were her pride. “Hello mother!” Nico scowled and crushed her dumb flora along with her hand into the dark soil.

  Her head rose slowly. The woman he hated displayed affection. Her face wore fine wrinkles at the edges, so subtle that from the distance she looked very young. He knelt on one knee for her to see his cold eyes devoid of compassion. Nico wanted her to see what type of man he had become!

  She slipped her hand free of the gardening glove and went to cup his face, but he recoiled. “Do not put your hands on me, traditore!”

  “It is the only way I can see you better Nicolo…my Nicolo?”

  Amid evergreens is how he learned his mother was blind. “How long have you been without sight?” he asked between clenched teeth.

  “I lost my sight many years ago.”

  Sergio was part of the landscape, listening to this strange conversation with his face contorted, not understanding shit but piecing it together. So, the blind lady was Nico’s estranged mom.  Okay, well maybe that’s why he’s crazy. The man really wanted a mother’s love or something like that was Sergio’s observation.

  “Why did you send men to kill my family at the church?”

  “I have done no such thing!”

  He put the gun to her face and Sergio jumped. “Nico, whoa this is your mom –chill!”

  “Chiudi quella cazzo di bocca!” he growled. “Say nothing nipote or I will kill you as well!”

  “You are Nicolo. My baby Nicolo!”

  “Mama, do not speak my name. Do not offend me with lies. Do not hurt me anymore. You are dead in my heart!”

  “I do not lie. Ti amo, hear truth from my heart!”

  The barrel pressed hard to her cheek and a circle of pink formed around it. Nico’s finger did not flex as he imagined her blood spilling into soil to become food for her plants. The despicable woman would say anything. “Liar!”

  Sergio reasoned with him. “Uncle Nico, I don’t know what the hell is going on but you can’t shoot your mom. That shit’s wrong. Don’t do it, you’ll live with that nightmare all your life. You’re already crazy –word!”

  Sergio’s interruption prompted Nico to ask a question he harbored for years. “Why did you not come for us, mama, perché?”

  “I wanted to but I did not know where you were. My father told me many lies. I was forbidden to go to Alberti.”

  “Forbidden, perché?”

  “There are things that I will explain to you in depth, but not here. I will tell you a bit, you deserve that much. I was engaged to my husband when I met your father. Alberti lived nearby and he watched me in silence when I helped my mother in the garden. When I tended the flowers alone, Alberti introduced himself. We talked about many things and I learned he loved flowers. We fell in love in a garden figlio and consummated our commitment, but when I told my father about my desire to marry another, I was taken away before Alberti could ask my father’s permission. Later, my mother suspected I was pregnant and again I was fed lies and placed in what was a house prison until I gave birth. I held you and Vincenzo only once before you were stolen from me by my father and taken away.”

  “You did not give us away?”

  “Mai!”

  Nico’s world stopped. The conflict came because a part of him wanted to believe the tale.

  “My father took my darlings and sold both of to your father in order to pay his gambling debts. He owed dangerous people. Mafiosi who would not hesitate to kill him. Alberti told you what was necessary.”

  “Mama…do not try to cover with lies!”

  His mother’s head lifted, she was listening and may have heard something. “Kill me if it is your wish, but know my son I have bargained my life for you and your brother many times over.”

  The weapon lowered. “What are you saying? Did you marry this man against your will, are you a prisoner mama?”

  “I am here out of duty.  I swear to you, I had nothing to do with the killings.”

  “Then why was your number in an assassino’s directory?”

  “The man I have married has many friends. It is possible he may know something of this. He leaves for Russia soon and I will investigate.”

  “You did not come to the funeral of your son and now you seek to aid me.”

  “Alberti sent word after the burial. He told me nothing more. I will help you Nicolo because I too would like to know if my husband had any hand in the killings.”

  “Do you love your husband, is that why you stay?”

  “It is an arrangement Nico that serves a purpose. Your grandmother is an old woman, and there is my sister and brother’s children and grandchildren to consider. My parents were indebted to my husband’s family which I did not know until many years later. Once, I did leave and my father mysteriously died. I cannot say for sure if it was my husband, or his relatives, but I know enough Nico. I know the history of your father’s family. It is here that I can learn many things.”

  “Mama, you’re coming with me, I’ll protect you,” Nico said as he reached for her hand.

  She did not accept. “Nico, I have survived these years without need of a gun. The church shootings have disturbed me as well.” She touched his leg. “Put out your hand.” When he did she traced his palm with invisible numbers that he stored in his brain. “Call two weeks from today, exactly at eight di notte. I will know more to aid you, capisce mio figlio?”

  Nico dropped to his knees. “How can I trust you have not lied? My existenc
e is a lie mama…help me see, por favore?”

  “Trust is more than sight, it is things unseen. I have shed tears for my sons. I have wondered whether you were alive and if so, what you might look like. My vision is impaired, I see vaguely but I can see your heart. The hardness in your voice is pain. I also carry an enormous ache that is, until now. I will aid you figlio, but you must not come here again. We will discuss a way to contact one another. Do not reveal to anyone we have spoken or our lives are forfeit, giuro sul sangue Semira!”

  “On the blood of Semira, lo giuro,” he promised and then he embraced his mother very tight and years of yearning dissolved in his mother’s warm embrace.

  She stroked his hair, kissed his cheeks and whispered, “Figlio, you and Vincenzo beat in my heart. Ti amo Nicolo. Odio me non di più, ti prego.”

  Nico closed his eyes; wishing guns could undo this tragedy; however bullets could not slaughter faceless enemies. His intuition told him to trust, blindly and for the first time in his life, he did. “Sí, mama…my hatred has ceased. Ti amo.”

  Sergio walked alongside his Uncle as they navigated the hilly descent. “Aren’t you glad I stopped you from killing that woman?”

  Nico was not in the mood for Sergio’s yapping. “Silenzio!”

  “I’m just saying, what if you would have shot that lady and then found out she didn’t do anything wrong, I mean that would suck, right?”

  Nico scoffed. “I don’t go back and recheck facts. If I killed her, she’s dead. End of story. Once you start regretting one killing, you start a downward spiral.”

  “Are you seriously that cold Uncle or are you trying to scare me and shit?”

  “You should have gotten scared a long time ago.” Nico walked faster in a hurry to get to the car and away from his talkative nephew.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

   

   

   

  Sophie and Amelda were in the room waiting for Giuseppe to open his eyes. Seventy-two hours had passed –yesterday. The doctor said his vitals remained stable, no subdural hemorrhaging was seen on the latest CT scan, therefore the prognosis was good, unless Giuseppe awoke and there were neurological changes undetected by the tests. They had begun to wean him off the meds and the ventilator, this was now the fourth day of their waiting and yet Giuseppe had failed to wake. She went home to change and returned praying he’d open his eyes and say, “Mama…mama.” Those are the words she wanted to hear.

  Fear set in. A mother’s nightmare is her son may never speak or walk and only sleep. Sophie had said good-bye to Selange in the fog of the stressful days. Her love for the woman surpassed any feelings she had for her friend. Oh, that Shanda had stolen her grandson and promised to call to check on Giuseppe, but she hadn’t. Sophie swore, oh how she promised that Shanda would meet her fury if she continued to keep her grandson away. The most important thing at the moment was her son. He required a mother’s serenity, absent of storms.

  The specialist, along with other medical staff hovered to assess the patient once he awoke. But he didn’t. This was day five.

  Sophie gripped Amelda’s hand. Her fingers tightened around her daughters for strength. Her eyes were on her son’s face willing him to wake up. She missed Carlo in that moment, and yearned for his presence. In a mother’s vigil, a door opened and the man who walked to her side, hugged mother and daughter, bringing strength and faith. The eyes of Giuseppe’s brother, lighter and an effervescent blue could see. He did not need words to understand the situation. Something was wrong, or else Giuseppe would have awakened.

  He rubbed their spines. “He’ll come out of it. Geo’s tough.”

  He released the women and walked to Giuseppe who breathed with an oxygen mask. The doctors dispersed respectfully to the hall. Alfonzo looked down at his brother whose eyelashes fluttered like wings. He was fighting to get loose from the hold of sleep. It is the hand of a brother, touching another in solidarity and the timbre of a mountain speaking in a shared language that quieted a mother’s fears. “Mio fratello, sangue che amo. Ho bisogno di te. Papà ci ha derubato entrambi, ma abbiamo cominciato a recuperare il tempo perduto. Sulla tomba dei nostri antenati, si prega di restituire alla tua famiglia.”

  Sophie wiped the wetness from her cheeks during Alfonzo’s speech. “My brother, blood I love. I need you. Papa robbed us both but we have begun to make up for lost time. On the grave of our ancestors, please return to your family.”

  No immediate reaction came and then Alfonzo felt Giuseppe’s hand gripping his. The nerves in Alfonzo’s arm caught fire when Giuseppe tightened his fingers around his wrist. The look on Giuseppe’s face was as if he saw the sky for the first time. Despite Alfonzo’s pain he leaned over and kissed Giuseppe’s cheeks in the customary fashion of his Italian brother. He often chastised Giuseppe about such an action, but today it was the perfect greeting to welcome a resurrected man home. A weight so heavy had lifted which caused a broken chest to heave involuntarily and Alfonzo began to sob.

  Sophie and Amelda rushed to Alfonzo. Their arms and bodies pressed his back. They clutched hold; their cheeks touched the cloth of his suit jacket and the masculine body became a firm pillow of warmth. Only once had they witnessed Alfonzo’s passionate love. Today they saw him stripped bare to cry for his brother. Their tears were not only happiness Giuseppe was no longer asleep, they cried in gratitude for this person of strength who was unashamed of displaying affection.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER TWELVE

   

   

   

  Shanda misplaced her darn cell. The last time she had it was at the airport before she boarded the plane, at least that’s what she thought. All of her contacts were in that phone. The only person’s number she memorized was Selange’s, but her friend wasn’t answering her calls. She called the hospital every day to check on Giuseppe and received the same rote response. “No English.”

  “Ugh,” she grumbled irritably. Maybe, she shouldn’t have left. Her parents were becoming over-bearing, not in a bad way, but smothering her and Carlo to death with love. Each time she stared into her son’s face, Giuseppe’s image stared back and slowly guilt began to creep inside. Her parents weren’t helping; they acted as if Giuseppe never existed and she had a child by Immaculate Conception or an alien swooped down and gave her the baby.

  Her mother came into the room as Shanda tried again to contact the hospital for information. “Are you coming with us to dinner?” she asked with a sanctimonious smile.

  “No, ma. Go ahead.”

  “Are you trying to reach that man again?”

  “Yes I am.”

  Here it comes, the ‘you’re better off without the thug’ speech. “You know baby girl, Carlo is much safer here. Are you so in love with that person, you’d risk having your baby killed?”

  Shanda’s hand slightly trembled. The mention of how close she came to losing Carlo elicited panic. The pounding in her chest grew loud and made her gasp. “No.”

  “Then you have to let him go…for Carlo’s sake. Let him go.”

  The phone was placed back into the charging bay. Maybe, her mom was right. If anything happened to her baby, she’d have herself to blame. Giuseppe had plenty of family. They’d take care of him, after-all she was an outsider, at least now she was home...safe.

   

   

   

   

  ~ ~

   

  The delirium
lasted hours. Giuseppe didn’t know where he was, he only remembered the sounds of people talking in his head. His eyes danced around the room, searching faces for someone but not knowing who. He saw Lucia, their eyes locked and he smiled. He was being assessed, asked questions, and directed to move his limbs as if they were broken. He flexed his leg and the doctor’s joyful face puzzled him. Why did they all smile like imbeciles?

  Lucia looked worried. Giuseppe called her name when the doctor walked away to confer with a nurse. The others in the room maintained their distance in his foggy brain. They were vague visions, except Lucia who stood vivid and not a dream. Their love was strong. “Bella, I have missed you.”

  “Buongiorno Geo, I am glad you are well.”

  “Where is my kiss of greeting?”

  Lucia’s eyes widened as Giuseppe’s family looked on. They did not know the secret of teenage lovers. Giuseppe was speaking too much of the past. She sought to quiet him and kissed his dry lips. Sophie’s countenance changed at her action. Her spine went stiff as did Amelda’s in disapproval.

  Alfonzo’s eyebrow ascended. The fondness in which his brother spoke to Lucia confirmed what he suspected. She was after-all Amelda’s best friend and Matteo’s sister. And Giuseppe was quite the lady’s man. From the intimate scene unfolding, the two shared a past.

  “Your kiss is sweet. Do not worry donna…our families will embrace our child. We are young but we are in love, no?”

  Sophie gasped. Amelda yanked Lucia away by the arm.

  Giuseppe rubbed his aching head. His eyes roamed, shutting out the voices of women talking loudly. He saw a man with eyes which mirrored his and a sudden recognition occurred. “Fratellino!”

  “Grande fratello, good to hear your voice,” Alfonzo responded and stepped closer to the bed.

  “Mama…is she here fratellino?”