I finally set the bible down, stand, and leave my spot in the booth. What I find is Father Andrew waiting with a smile on his face. The notion in itself causes me to feel uncomfortable, and if anything else, anxious.
“You did really well,” he comforts me, stepping forward. “I wasn’t going to overwhelm you with all the prayers. You looked like you needed a sounding board for the things that are tying you down and you were able to do that.” His smile broadens, his eyes sparkle with honesty, and I see the opposite of the shame I truly thought he would denounce me with. “Don’t worry, Amelia, you aren’t alone in believing that you deserve no redemption, but believe me, the conviction you carry is enough to see you through this. This is your home here; feel free to come here and speak to me, or God, whenever you need to. As for your mother, I’m sure she would be blessed to know you have the strength to redeem yourself.”
“Just a little too late,” I mumble, hugging myself out of insecurity.
“Never too late,” he replies, offering a smile. “Let’s go find your brothers, shall we?”
We walk through the church, passed the few people praying, and head out to a side door. Andrew opens the door and we leave to enter the backyard of the church. Immediately, I’m overwhelmed by the loud roar of children’s laughter that fills the Manhattan air. As Father Andrew moves out of the way, I’m met with what must be a church run daycare and in the thick of it all are my brothers. They run around, enjoying some time with the children, making their playtime all the more exciting.
“They come here three times a week to help out,” he says, his gaze captivated on the group of happily playing children.
“They do?” I ask, my heart swelling. “I never knew.”
“I wish you did. They’re two real characters the children look up to. On the days they don’t come to help, the children are forever bugging the sisters that run this day care about where Enzo and Carlo are.” He chortles as Carlo falls down, a bundle of children jumping on him before he bursts up, holding onto a few of them as he roars out loud. “It’s like this every single time.”
It’s as I watch Carlo laugh carelessly and Enzo bent over double with laughter as children tickle him that my heart throbs. They would be perfect family men. They’re loyal, honorable, and have so much love to give. They would give a woman the moon from the night sky and still strive to give them the stars above it.
We stand and watch from the sidelines until Carlo notices me. He gives me such an illuminating smile that I find the infectious need to respond with a smile myself. He calls to Enzo who sees me and both of them tell the children to go play elsewhere and they’ll be back.
“She’s a lot like the both of you when you both turned up on my doorstep,” Father Andrew quips, sarcastically reprimanding my brothers on their approach. “You Abbiati folk are all the same. Even Bruno, and he’s the one well-kept from the family business.”
“Bruno?” we all ask, united with puzzlement.
Father Andrew laughs. “Bruno is here every Sunday for morning mass with his wife and children. Occasionally, he’ll come in for the evening confession, but your family is far stronger than you all give yourself credit for.”
“Well, apparently, this is a family you cannot make any guesses about,” I joke, looking at my brothers. “And you didn’t think to tell me about this?” I ask, pointing back to the playground full of merry children. “This is amazing! Why would hide this from us?”
“Papà,” they both respond together.
“Look, I would’ve, Amelia, but we’ve had so much going on, and this isn’t something I wanted to jeopardize by Papà finding out. After last night, Carlo and I decided it was time you got some insight that even with what goes on at home, we can give back to the community.” Enzo oozes satisfaction in being able to proudly tell me. “This is just half of what we do with the church, but it’s some of the most fun we can ever have.”
“Lia, you’d love this, believe me,” Carlo chimes in, adding on, “It’s liberating.”
“This is where you disappear to in the mornings?” I ask, and he nods. “And you spend all day here?”
“Most of it,” he tells me, that humble smile sitting firmly on his face. “It’s just a little downtime.”
“I know it’s a lot to digest, Lia, but we thought if we got you opening up a little and seeking some form of happiness, it’d be a start. And if you want to join us here, well, Andrew’s already said you can on a probationary period. They don’t judge here. We are all equals and these kids are the best stress relief you can find.”
“Carlo!” one of the children shouts out. “Carlo, Carlo!” he says again, this time in a chant with the other children.
“You go back. I’ve got one more stop to make with Lia before we head back home,” Enzo tells Carlo, looking at the children now vying for his attention. “I’m thinking we order in and actually relax tonight. No talk of Papà or Gio. Just a family night.”
“Sounds good,” Carlo says. “I might need it after being bundled by this group.” He laughs as he starts to back away toward the children. “See you at home in about two hours?”
“Sure,” Enzo responds and turns back to us. “One more stop then ice cream?” Enzo asks me, cocking an eyebrow as he already knows my response without me having to verbalize it.
“Only if you’re paying,” I reply, smiling sweetly.
“Have fun, you two. I need to get ready for tonight’s mass,” Father Andrew interjects the playful moment, bidding farewell.
“C’mon,” Enzo says putting his arm around me. “Let’s get going.”
***
I look at where he’s taking me, and even though I haven’t been here in a few years, I still cannot forget the journey. My eyes immediately travel across the vast sea of tombstones until I see the pristine Abbiati vault set far back, with one of the best views of the Manhattan skyline. It was the only saving grace on the day we buried our mother – looking out at all the buildings was something I’ll never forget. The world continued to spin that day while my life stood so still I feared it would never return to normal.
“You’re just out to kill me today, aren’t you?” I ask, begrudgingly stepping out of the car.
“No, I’m not, but what’s the point in going back to our old ways without coming here and seeing her,” Enzo comments, a sense of deliberation in his tone. Clearly, he isn’t comfortable with this, but this is the most serene place we’ll ever find. “Also, I thought it’d be safer to bring you here to tell you what’s really going on,” Enzo begins, throwing his door shut and walking around to the front of the car. “Want some time to go and speak to her?”
I look at him as if he’s crazy.
“It’s a great way of dealing,” Enzo starts to tell me, responding with an honest comment. “When I get a little too caught up, I come here and talk to her.”
“Oh, you are full of fucking surprises today,” I swear at him, mounting emotion hitting me. “So, what do you need to tell?”
“No changing the subject,” he replies, sticking by his mission. “Go down to her and I’ll come over in ten minutes,” Enzo instructs, leaning against the hood of his red Ferrari. “Go.”
I want to grumble, stick my heels into the ground and not go, but I know Enzo only has my best interests at heart. I take the beaten path through the cemetery, walking away from the parking lot. I have to admit, all this walking is making my leg begin to hurt a little, but I know that tonight we will be just lounging around. Now that I’m almost there, I feel a sense of intrigue pull me closer.
But as I come face to face with the marble vault my father had constructed after my mother’s death for our final resting place, I lose my cool. I have no idea how Enzo talks to our mother when she’s cloistered away in the Abbiati vault. I dare myself to step forward and obey. I reach out until my fingers trace her name. It’s as I trail my fingertips over her name that a gentle gust of wind breezes by, forcing me to close my eyes. As it wraps around me, I begin
to melt into a small smile. This is actually the closest I’ve felt to her since she passed away.
“Hey, Mamma,” I whisper, feeling an ease I find so foreign to me. Today has brought me a lot of calm, but right now, I’m at my calmest I’ve been in a long time. “I really, really miss you.” My hand flattens as I find the need to steady myself on my uneasy feet. “Everything was perfect before you died,” I murmur, closing my eyes to hold back the grief I’m feeling. My eyes are stinging and I know I’m going to result in crying all over again. “He killed us all that day, Mamma, and ever since, he just keeps on taking. I wish you were here to tell me what to do to save us.”
I realize that this is far more painful than I had anticipated. I thought it would be hard to talk to a brick wall, to bring myself to find the courage to have my first conversation with my mother here, but it’s more than that. This opens up old wounds, the ones I strived to glue together and cover up the jagged seams of. Backing up, I sit myself in the middle of the bench my father has placed opposite the vault and take a moment to find myself. I’m consumed by a gauntlet of so many emotions that range all across the spectrum. I’m raging inside, but the storm weakens for anguish and for the misery my mother’s stolen life left me with.
“I didn’t want you crying again,” Enzo breaks my gloomier mood, plunking himself down beside me. “I know it’s tough but talking to her gets easier, just like it used to be.”
“Why was it her who had to die?” I ask, a question I’ve spent many years repeating. Why her? Why so soon? Why so viciously? Why not our father?
“Because she threatened to take it all away from Papà,” he comments and his lips do begin to tip up at the corners. “He wasn’t prepared for her to take his protégés away from him, so he’d rather lose her than lose all of us.”
“But she loved him,” I state, remembering everything our mother brought to the house.
I remembered how my mother would always calm him when he was in his worst mood. I remember how she used to have breakfast cooked, giving the cooks the mornings off. She used to wake us all up and days would start with a family meal that didn’t involve talk of battle plans and future bloodshed. She was the calm in my father’s storm, but like all of us, she’s reached her boiling point and thought enough was enough.
When our father caught on, he decided to show her that no one escapes. Blood in, no way out apparently.
“If she couldn’t make it out, how can we?”
“Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about,” Enzo replies, turning his body on the bench to face me. “Bruno, Carlo, and I have been storing away money for years now. We’ve been renovating a house, too. It’s been years in the planning, but I finally feel confident in all our plans.”
What?! My mind bellows, and I force myself to look at him.
“We’ve been getting enough money to set you and Manuel up with the option to leave and start brand new. Not like how Bruno did where he and Allana left with nothing but the clothes on their back. We want you to be able to find an apartment and have some money to help you get settled into finding your niche in life.” He smiles, but it’s not full of mirth. It’s a smile of derision, of not knowing how I’ll react – I don’t even know how I’ll react! “Carlo and I started it a little after Madre died, but Bruno started adding to it when he came back and found out.”
“But what about you?”
“Oh, we’ll be following,” Enzo dryly replies, nodding his head. “It’s all set in motion. We planned on telling you soon because it’s time you got out. It is time to get you out. Everything we’ve been planning is being finalized as we speak. Tonight, we planned on telling Manuel and making you pack little by little.” I can sense the nerves that filter through Enzo’s body as he doesn’t quite know where to look. I mean, I’m hardly shedding excitement. “We wanted to tell you sooner, but after the dilemma with Zane breaking up with you and you winding up on the Amalfi Coast, we lost time and then when you came back, we’ve never caught a break. But you need to know that we are closing in on that freedom.”
“Is that why you’re all about me forgiving myself?” I ask, and he nods. “Well, I won’t lie. I’m shocked.”
“Good, we wanted you to be,” he quips, chortling wryly as he does. “But we also don’t want that sort of bombshell dropped on you at the house, so Carlo and I planned to get you for the day, get your head on a little straighter and then tell you away from the house.”
“What did I ever do to deserve you as a big brother?” I ask him.
My heart does pang for Enzo. He gave up his one true love for his younger siblings and he is literally passing time in order to see us set right in life. His selflessness is something I admire, something I envy, and something I cannot wait to watch him pass on. Enzo gave up his life for us, and I know it’s now time to respect him and everything he has set into motion.
Clapping his knees, he stands up and turns to face me. “Now, let’s get ice cream, go home, and we’ll get Manuel on board, too. This is the beginning for you two.”
He starts the walk away, and I just wordlessly stand. With my head still spinning, I finally follow him.
***
When we enter the house, I notice how eerily quiet it is. I move closer to Enzo’s side, admittedly feeling a little terrified of the feeling that ebbs into my system. We both noted that the gardener was not outside working, the only cars were Manuel’s and Giovanni’s, and upon entering the house, the usual hustle and bustle of the maids, housekeepers, and chefs was nonexistent.
That’s when I hear the grunting noise followed by a struggled gurgling. While the gurgling continues in gasps and sputters, the grunting isn’t as consistent, and now it’s gone quiet once more. Then I hear it again. This time there’s a muffled voice with it and I go to move.
Enzo stops me. “Wait here,” Enzo orders me. I see the way he’s standing and know, he’s feeling the same as me. Something is amiss in the house.
“No,” I defy him, disregarding his evident need to protect me.
“Amelia,” Enzo grounds out. He might not want me to follow, but there is no way in hell I am going to stand in the foyer while something is happening in my house. “You need to stay here.”
“No, I don’t. I need to stay with you.” I move with him as if to aid my cause. I watch the protector in him become an emblazoned figure before me. It’s this that makes me want to remain with him. “Enzo, I’m not letting you go alone, and I don’t want to stay on my own.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, relinquishing the need to push me back out of the house. “But you stand back.”
I numbly nod, and we begin to investigate the noise. As we enter, I see the back of Giovanni. He’s standing without a shirt on. The ominous gothic cross tattoo that paints his back is on show.
Before one of us can say anthing, I watch his arm draw back in a swift motion before pummeling forward. It’s now I realize that gurgling noise has been Manuel.
“Gio?” Enzo calls out. His tone is sharp, dangerously low, and he’s ready to react.
As he turns, Manuel’s body slumps down into a heap on the floor. I let out a scream as I see Manuel’s stomach ripped opened, his shirt, which hangs in tatters, is smothered with so much blood I feel myself gag. When I look back at Giovanni, the expression he wears terrifies me. His tanned, tattooed skin is red with blood, and it’s hard to ignore the smile that lights up his face as blood runs down it.
The man who turned around to face us isn’t our brother. In all of his sadistic angles, Giovanni has never looked this hell-bent and crazed. He has never made me fear him, but as he stares with pupils so large I barely notice the green hoop of his eyes, and likewise, I barely recognize my own sibling. The blood that covers him only makes him react more superior, and he stands, ready to attack.
Daringly, I begin to allow my gaze to fall and I see the horror before me. My breathing becomes shallow as the amount of red begins to consume my vision. Blood, there’s so much blood, it’s ever
ywhere. There’s too much blood. My mind whispers that word so quietly, I can hear the fear that is becoming all too overwhelming. There’s blood everywhere.
“Manuel,” I murmur and tears fall as I verbalize my own brother’s name. I move to help him, but both Enzo and Giovanni stop me. Enzo physically, but Giovanni takes a provoked step toward me.
“Don’t!” Giovanni says, taking another step toward me, the bloodied knife pointed directly at me. “I have lived months where this family has been falling apart member by member and now I’m here to rectify it! I’m here to get rid of the weakest.”
“He’s your brother,” Enzo opposes, pointing to Manuel as he lays consumed with pain. “He’s not a weak link; he’s our own flesh and blood!”
“My own flesh and blood have done nothing but let me down! We’re meant to be a united front, an army. We’re meant to be the Dio Lavoro, but we’ve never come close to it! Now, it’s time to show Papà who really deserves to be in this family!”
And there he is – our very own Lucifer. He’s cast himself into this world, given himself a righteous attitude that he is the salvation we needed. But he isn’t. He’s the devil and he’s living every single moment of it that he can. The worsening abuse, the drugs, the threats were all leading to this and we never believed one of our own would strike.
“Gio, this isn’t how you do it,” I whisper, pained beyond repair at what we’ve been driven to.
“L-Lia,” I hear my name softly spoken from the lips of my brother, and it’s my ultimate undoing.
When he calls out to me, I have to react. I can’t leave him to suffer anymore. I cannot deny him that comfort until we can get him some help. When my eyes look back at his, he sends me such a powerful plea without even saying a word, and my heart begins to constrict. The vice it’s trapped in tightens, and with it, my chest struggles to inhale air.
“Li-a,” he whispers, this time with a cough. Blood now lines his lips, and I realize this situation is only going to get increasingly more dire. There’s no solution as Manuel remains bleeding out. “H-help me.”
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