Olivetti: Illumination

by Tamilore Odimayo

  “Do not talk about your mother! You never knew her! So shut up! Now, if you want to run off in the sunset with Walter, go ahead, but be ready to accept the consequences,” he replied.

  She was stunned. Her father had never been that angry. Never. At least, not with her. His eyes had changed. Empty, like he would rather die than allow his daughter to marry an Olivetti.

  “W-what does that mean, Dad?”

  He sighed. “I will kill him. I will kill his entire family if I have to. There are things that family has done that you can never comprehend. Never! So it’s your choice. You can run along and be with your boyfriend if you want. Just know that next time, when I send someone for you, when your lover is lying on the bed, asleep. I’ll order them to put a bullet in his brain once and for all. You know me, Cathy. I don’t make idle threats,” He yelled.

  She could tell that he was absolutely sincere. She could tell that he wasn’t bluffing. She tried to cry, but tears didn’t come out. Her heart ached. She was shaking uncontrollably. She knelt down on both knees as she wailed uncontrollably.

  “It’s your choice!” her father yelled as he stormed out of the room.

  25

  July 1990-september 2001

  She screamed in excruciating pain as she pushed. Breathing was difficult and the long stream of sweat coming from her forehead wasn’t helping either. Everything about that day was peculiar. First the skies were clear then all of a sudden, there was a storm in New York. A storm so huge, it was impossible for any car to move. The subways also had to be temporarily shut down.

  The sound of thunders wasn’t helping her pain. It crashed like angry stones on brass. The lightning had crashed the electric system and the hospital was now running on the backup generator. Catherine never imagined how painful child birth was. She was less worried about the labor pains and more worried about her new husband. He treated her like a commodity and wasn’t even at the hospital to help her through the pain. Billy de Sanchez was the complete opposite of Walter. He was a good looking man with no respect nor regard for women, especially, his wife.

  He, like her, only married to please his father. Though, he got a better end of the deal. She was more beautiful than he had expected. He treated her like a priced trophy in front of others and treated her like a used rag behind closed doors. He was smart enough to know that his wife had already given her heart to another. For that, he never made any attempt to win her heart. She was just his sex doll when he needed her to be. In the past months, he treated her with more respect. Not because he loved her, but because she was carrying his son, an heir to the Sanchez family.

  “Push harder, Mrs. Sanchez,” the nurse said to her. Catherine’s mind drifted off to the last night she spent with Walter. He was everything she had ever dreamed of as a little girl. She had made several hidden attempts to contact him. No luck. He didn’t even reply any of her letters. Of course, he was upset. She married Billy two weeks after the night they spent together. She could only imagine how hurt Walter was, but she didn’t care. She did it to protect him. Her father would have killed him if she ran off with him.

  She thought about possible scenarios that would have occurred if she ran off with him. Maybe they would have hidden in a desolate country in Africa or perhaps, in a Middle Eastern country. All those scenarios ended up with either a life full of fear or Walter dead. Now, about nine months later, she was having a child for a Sanchez.

  Suddenly, she heard a cry. It was her boy. She had been so engulfed in her thoughts, she didn’t realize she was still pushing. All she could do was imagine Walter on her side, in the labor room, as she pushed.

  “Would you like to hold him?” the nurse asked. Her eyes were red. She couldn’t imagine loving Billy’s child. She looked away, through the window. There was still a storm, but something amazing happened. The dark clouds separated. The sun lit the city brightly, while it rained heavily. Strange

  She changed her mind. She was now determined to love her child no matter what. “Yes! Yes! I’ll hold my son,” she said, calling out to the nurse who was already walking away with the child. The nurse walked back towards her then handed her the baby.

  She looked into the boys eyes. He had her eyes. It was soft and strong at the same time. She couldn’t help but smile behind all the sorrow. The boy had a face that made her heart melt. For a moment she felt like the boy was speaking to her. He giggled. She laughed. “Pablo,”

  “I’ll call you Pablo,” she whispered as she kissed her baby on the forehead.

  “He is not a hard man to find! He walks around the street without security. He jogs! He sometimes goes grocery shopping! So tell me why Frederick Olivetti is still alive!” Don Sanchez yelled as he hit both fist on his desk.

  Everyone in the room; Billy de Sanchez, Julio Sanchez, Don Cruccifixo and some other high ranking men from the cartel, all stood still. The absence of natural light in the room, gave it a more gothic look. There was nothing soothing about the countless stuffed animals on the wall. Don Sanchez was crazy enough to hand a stuffed human being on his wall to prove a point.

  “We killed Chris Gambino, his right hand man. He will be weak! He has lost the loyalty of three out of the five major families. He’s not a threat!” Don Cruccifixo replied.

  “I don’t care about Gambino nor those rascals that are now in Jail. I don’t care! I want Frederick’s head! Is that too much to ask?” Don Sanchez yelled at the top of his lungs. His frustrations were becoming more unbearable. He couldn’t sleep, eat or drink without thinking about avenging his dead twin brother.

  Don Cruccifixo sighed. “We’ll find a way,”

  “That’s what I hear from everyone, every single year! The same damn thing!” Don Sanchez replied.

  “But father we control almost all the drug sales in the west and in the south. We don’t need Frederick Olivetti,” Julio replied.

  “Shut up! Did he tell you to speak?” Billy yelled in anger. Julio, the youngest of Don Sanchez’s four sons sealed his lips timidly.

  “It’s not about money, son,” Don Sanchez said, still panting excessively.

  “I don’t think anyone can kill him. We have sent twenty of the best assassins we know. None have come back and the ones that do, come back with a crazy story about Frederick being some kind of supernatural creature. Heck with it! They come back so frightened; they can’t function in society anymore. They end up in the mental ward talking about demons and angels and whatever…” Don Cruccifixo said.

  “No one wants to take the job. Stories of Don Frederick Olivetti’s formidability have filled the streets. He is an untouchable. That’s why he can jog and go grocery shopping without fear of being killed. There’s nothing else we can do,” Don Cruccifixo added. The room was quiet.

  “If we can’t kill him, we kill his first son, Daniel Olivetti,” Don Sanchez said as he stormed out of the room.

  “He doesn’t love his new wife half as much as he loved Catherine,” Cecilia said to her husband Frederick. It pained her to see how Walter struggled to maintain a balanced life.

  Frederick Olivetti sighed as he took a mouth full of his sandwich. She gazed at her husband in frustration. She loved him, but she hated how he made decisions without telling her his reasons. She knew he could see the future and she hated being kept in the dark. It made her uneasy. She wanted to know as much as he did, but he never gave her a chance.

  Frederick kept the same routine every single day of the week. He’d wake up just before the sun rises, go jogging, head back home, take a shower then head downstairs to meet her for breakfast. During breakfast, he’d zone out into lala land, drifting into his memories, seeing everything that would happen throughout the day and even the week then go to work. At night, he spent a significant amount of time listening to music, watching the news and reading the newspaper. When she asked why, he said he was trying to gain some perspective of future outcomes. Unknown to her, he was decoding messages from the illuminati, through media channels.

  Over the
years, Frederick had kept the family safe because he knew dangers to avoid. Sometimes, he’d tell her not to go to work. Sometimes he’d tell her not to go to the mall. He never told her why and she never argued with him.

  She loved him, but she hated the responsibilities he put on his shoulders. She was never afraid that he’d die. They both knew that it was almost impossible. Frederick was in his late sixties, and looked exactly the same way he did, when she first met him. Besides his greying hair, he stood strong and tall. His skin was wrinkle free and he still had an almost boyish look. It bothered her a lot. Time wasn’t favorable to her. She was aging and he wasn’t. It didn’t bother him. He never looked at her differently. She was the only woman in his life and he never hesitated to show her how much he loved her.

  They often joked about how startled she was when she found out who he really was. It took her by surprise. Now, many years later, they had raised seven healthy boys and were patiently waiting for a grandson who was supposed to fulfill the agenda of Frederick’s organization—the illuminati.

  “You’re doing it again. Please tell me that forcing Walter to move on was a good idea. He was ready to wait for Catherine to come back to her senses. He’s an angry man, but we both know he still loves her,” Cecilia Olivetti ranted without a response from Frederick.

  Suddenly, Frederick eyes widened. His pupils dilated. He looked like he was seeing a ghost. Cecilia noticed as she brought him his cup of iced tea.

  “Fred? You’re okay?”

  He was breathing heavily. He squeezed his sandwich into a large lump. Tears rolled down his eyes. She didn’t know what to do. She walked up to him then hugged him. It was comforting.

  “What’s it? I’ll stay away from work. I’ll call the kids back to New York. Is it danger? Tell me!” She said frantically

  Frederick pulled away as he struggled to breathe, panting diabolically. Seconds later, he stopped. He glanced around the room to ground himself; beige walls, marble counter, glass kitchen table, black cook top, flowery dishes, and white fridge. His mind was back home. He gazed at his beautiful wife. She was everything he ever wanted. Now, based on what he foresaw, he’d have to leave her. She walked up to him and hugged him tightly again. She was terrified by his reaction. She had never seen him agitated by any circumstance whatsoever. Here was a man who was never surprised by anything that happened because he knew the best actions to take to make a scenario work better for him.

  “Tell me. I promise I can handle it,” she added again. He kissed her sensually as if to shut her up. “Stop!” she said, pulling away. Her hands were on her hips like a stubborn school girl rebelling against her parent’s wishes.

  “Don’t do that. I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to distract me. Tell me what’s going on,” she said with a stern voice. Her face was serious.

  He gazed at her. Mouth opened. Eyes wide. “I have to go,” he said beneath his breath.

  “Go? Where? To work? – why is that scary?” she replied.

  “You don’t understand. I have to go for good,”

  “For good?” She realized the seriousness of his situation. She felt dizzy. The emptiness in her stomach increased as the emotion of loss began to set in. “W-why? What’s going on?”

  “Daniel…Walter. Our sons…they’ll all die if I don’t go,”

  “What? Are you scared of a petty mob family?” she asked.

  “This is beyond any one mob family. I’ve gone through every scenario and the only scenario that ensures the survival of my family is me disappearing…dying,”

  The word struck a blow into her chest. She tried to compose herself. “You’re not going to die. Are you?”

  He sighed. “Okay seat down. I never tell you anything, but I’m going to tell you what you need to know, right now,”

  She reluctantly walked to the living then sat down on the sofa. Frederick followed behind then did the same. “I’m not going to die. We both know that’s almost impossible. Although, I would have to fake my death in order for peace to occur within the five mob families…”

  “But…”

  “…listen Cece. I’m not going to die, but I’ll go and never return,”

  “When?”

  “When the time comes, you’ll know beyond a doubt. I want you to watch over our kids, especially Walter. Make sure he doesn’t do anything crazy. He’ll have a son…”

  “The one you keep talking about? How will I know?” she asked.

  “He’ll have only one son. His first born child. You’ll know when you see the boy. It is your job to help the boy when he needs you. You have to! Please! The fate of the world is determined by this boy. He is special. More special than me,” Frederick continued.

  Cecilia was confused. Walter already had a daughter. The only child Walter had was miscarried during pregnancy by his wife, Beatrice. His first-born-son analysis didn’t make any sense.

  He kissed her. She held him tightly. “I’m going to miss you,” he whispered. She was upset. Still, she knew what she was getting into when she married him.

  “You’ll keep in touch,” she said. He shook his head. “You must keep in touch!!!” she added in a stern tone. “I’ll try,”

  “Don’t just try Freddy, it’s a must. I’ll do what you ask me to do if you promise to keep in touch,” She replied sternly. “I will,”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes I promise,” he replied as he kissed her again. She tried so hard to be strong with hopes that someday, he will be back. Frederick pulled away gently. He looked into her eyes one more time then grabbed the keys on the table.

  “I love you. Always did and always will,” He said as he looked back at her one more time before running through the front door.

  Her heart bled.

  Catherine gazed at the clock. It was one o’clock in the morning. Her husband, Billy, was still not home. He never came home during the weekends, but he was always home during week nights. She was worried. She had managed to endure the situation of marrying someone she didn’t love and having a child for someone she detested. She was only happy that little Pablo had no resemblance to the Mexican drug lord. It would have made her interaction with her son much worse.

  She wasn’t bothered about his cheating. She was more worried about the plans and escapades of the Cartel. She knew they hated the Olivettis more than the Devil himself. She knew they had been brewing up a plan to annihilate the entire family, but she didn’t know how. Her father had promised to keep Walter safe as long as she was married to Billy. It was a fair deal. Now, Billy’s late nights were becoming more suspicious.

  It was a Tuesday morning in the month of September and Billy was still not home. She stared into the mirror by her dresser. Her depression was beginning to show and the makeup she used was no longer doing a good job hiding it. She wiped it off. She heard staggering footsteps. She paused, afraid. He’s drunk. She briskly went to bed to pretend she was asleep. He staggered into the room. “Catherine, you cunt!”

  She closed her eyes tightly in fear for her life. Billy’s violent nature only came out when he was drunk. Or rather, his potential for domestic violence was usually heightened when alcohol was added to the situation. Over the years, she had suffered bruises and broken bones. Once, she returned from the hospital after birthing their son, Pablo, Billy beat her up just because she asked why he wasn’t present for the birth of his son.

  Since, she had lived her life with fear and caution. After failed desperate attempts to confront her father about the issue, she decided it was best to avoid Billy in his vulnerable situation. Pretending to be asleep was one of them. Her dignity was lost because of her decision to protect Walter, though she hadn’t seen or contacted him in years. Billy’s knowledge about his wife’s lonesome love for an Olivetti only made him bitterer by the day.

  “Wake up B-Bitch! I know you are not asleep!” he staggered towards her. He dragged her legs then pulled her body off the bed. There was a loud thud. She pulled the red comforter with her as she fe
ll. She screamed.

  “Billy! Stop! Stop!” she struggled, but to no avail.

  “Perf – Perform your wifely duties. Please your husband!” he said as he removed his belt. She struggled to get up, but he slammed her back on the wooden floor. Pain emerged on her back.

  “Stay still!” he said. She kicked him on his groin then scrambled to the other side of the room. She accidentally dragged the rug with her. He yelled in pain then charged towards her. He hit her with his fist. Blood splashed on the dresser mirror. An agonizing pain emerged on her nose. It felt wet and warm. She could taste iron on her mouth.

  “Stop Billy! You’re drunk. A - All you need is sleep!” She cried out.

  “Shut up! Prostituta! Because I’m not that slime dog, Olivetti? Huh? Guess what, the Olivetti sons are all going to die soon, starting with Daniel then with Walter!” He said as he hit her again. She felt a lump on her forehead.

  “Please! Please Billy, you can do this later. Pablo is asleep. Don’t wake him up in the middle of the night! I beg you,”

  He dragged her legs towards the dresser. “You will perform your wife duties to me tonight,” He said in an attempt to rape her. Blood rolled down her lips. There was a nasty gash next to her eyes. She was in a state of despair.

  “No! No! Stop Billy! Not like this! Please!”

  He ignored her as he unzipped his trousers, ready to force himself on her. “You will fuck me the way you want to fuck that Olivetti son of a bitch,” He yelled as he squeezed her throat with one hand. She gasped for air. The room became shaky and red. The rotating fans felt slower and she could hear a screeching sound in her ears. She wished for death, but it didn’t come. Her son was more important than anything

  “Mom, are you okay?” little Pablo asked. They turned towards him. He was wearing blue pajamas and was holding his favorite teddy bear. Catherine’s heart sank. She didn’t want him hurt and she didn’t want him traumatized.