by Jen Tirone
And when it came time to confess my sins, I was too paranoid too, and lied in confession. I just couldn’t trust the priest to keep my adultery from Giorgio, or his murders from the police. So I lied like the accomplished little sinner I’ve become, spoiling the only opportunity to burden a little of the weight off my shoulders.
After saying hello to familiar and surprised faces we made our way to the black 1966 Cadillac Eldorado convertible Giorgio bought when we found out we were expecting. He wanted to drive our own car to the hospital and bring the baby home in it instead of taking a taxi.
We had just pulled out of the parking lot when he told me to lower myself in my seat as much as I could.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I think someone is following us,” he tells me, constantly looking between the road and the rearview mirror.
“Get down and stay down. I don’t recognize the driver but I’m not risking it. I wouldn’t be surprised if my father’s put a follow on us or even a hit. The meeting yesterday was tense. He can’t be trusted,” he tells me.
“Gio, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t,” I tell him, my heart going into overdrive.
“I know. I know... when we get to the next stoplight, you stay in the car, do you hear me?”
“What are you going to do?” I ask, grabbing his arm.
“Just stay inside!” he demands as he shifts the car into park, swings his door open, reaches for something from between the door and seat, and takes off in a sprint toward the car behind us.
I turn in my seat to watch him through the back window, lift up a crowbar and swing it at the driver’s side window, shattering it open.
I jerked at the sound of the glass breaking and hit my head on the roof of the car.
With the window now gone, Giorgio reaches inside and grabs the driver by his shoulders and yanks him out, gutting his stomach with shards of glass that was stuck still framing the window panel of the car.
The man’s shirt was immediately red all over with blood, making me tremble at the sight, terrified and overwhelmed with all the death I’ve been surrounded by.
Giorgio drags him to the floor and starts to viciously kick him, alternating with swings of his crowbar, until he picks the man up from the floor by the collar of his shirt, slams him against the side of the car and yells in his face, demanding to know God knows what.
I’m in too much shock to do anything but watch the God awful scene unfolding yet again before my eyes.
This is madness.
Giorgio is off the rails.
He throws what’s left of the man to the ground and continues beating him with the crowbar.
At some point, I couldn’t even see anything anymore, it all became a blur.
After what felt like an eternity, I notice the car’s en route again, buildings and skyscrapers passing us by.
In my head, I’m taken back to that first day in America. We passed these same streets, I was unable to take everything in, it was all so exciting, exhilarating.
Now, I would do anything not to feel anymore, to go numb.
I look over to Gio and see him drenched from splattered blood.
I had to close my eyes, I was tired from seeing it.
So, so tired.
When does the madness end?
When does all the killing, and depravity stop?
When I die too?
Because I can’t seem to envision a life anymore.
Not with him.
Not like this.
It’s become impossible with each day to find a reason to stay, a reason to make it work, to fight for us.
I keep trying to convince myself I made the right choice, the only choice I could make, when it came to staying with him.
But I can’t look away anymore.
This was the last nail hammered, sealing the coffin that embodied our love.
Yet, my heart can’t accept that loving him was wrong.
We rushed home and bypassed everyone in the lobby, ignoring Charlie.
Once inside, with my heart beating erratically, I faced Gio to give him the ultimatum.
I was done.
“Giorgio, I love you, I truly do, but you only have this one chance. Only one, because I’ve never asked you for anything more than just you in all my life—and I am asking you for just you, this last time. We leave right this instance. We get out of the city together—right now—and leave the country as soon as we can, or we will not be together anymore! I won’t live this way anymore!”
“Gianna, there were witnesses. Too many of them. I have to go,” he rushes to tell me not listening to what I said.
He’s ping ponging around the room, grabbing a bag, yanking drawers open, then rushing to the closet, sliding across the floor on his knees to reach one of the safes and unlocks it in a hurry. He’s takes out all the cash there is in there, two guns and grabs God knows what else from it.
“I fucked up bad, baby. I can’t stay. There were witnesses. They saw me kill that man in broad daylight. He was a goddamn cop! He was off duty, I checked his wallet. Goddamn it! I thought he was sent by my father, or one of the families. Fuck, Gia, I have to go.”
“Oh my God, Gio! I don’t want any part of this anymore! Do you hear me? I’m done!” I yell at him. But he’s too lost in his head, packing for his quick getaway.
Our relationship dilemma was nothing compared to the problems we were facing right now, but I refuse to live this kind of life anymore. He either leaves with me and we start over entirely, far away from it all, or he leaves and stays gone—for good.
“Listen to me, Gio, we have enough money to disappear. This is your choice: we leave together, or we’re done—forever. Either way, I am not staying in this country.”
He stops what he’s doing, my words penetrating his panic and slowly rises from the floor to face me. ”We will never be done, Gianna. Never. You’re mine,” he tells me with all the deathly seriousness he’s always evoked.
It scared me.
Resolute, I press on, “I won’t be yours if we don’t leave together. You go alone, Giorgio, and we’re done.”
“Gianna, did you listen to me earlier? I have to run. I can’t stay. And you can’t come. You’re pregnant, for God’s sake! You think you’re going to run and hide out, wherever? Over my dead body. I’m going. I’m cornered by everyone. The police, my father, the other families. I need to go now because I’m never going back to prison. I won’t willingly go there and leave you to fend for yourself like that. I can’t get to you if I’m in there with my hands tied. I’m going to figure out arrangements and then come back for you after the baby is born. I’m no coward, Gianna, but there’s no other fucking choice right now!”
“I’m not staying! You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m sticking around to deal with the aftermath of your mess! You don’t think they’ll hurt me in your fucking mafia war? Or your father after he realizes you’re gone? I’m not staying!” I tell him, feeling hysteria taking over me.
He wasn’t getting it.
I understood the position he was in, but I wasn’t waiting around for him, not anymore, and I wasn’t waiting to see what the consequences of this would bring.
No way.
This was the last straw, the last chance. This was my only demand, and he wasn’t comprehending that I was going to follow through.
“Go, Giorgio! But go, knowing that we’re done. Do you understand that? It’s over. I will not be here, or anywhere if you try to come back!” I scream in tears.
He grabs both my arms roughly, bringing me close to him, getting in my face.
“We will never be done, Gianna. You are mine… mine, until the day we die. Do you understand, that? Leave the country… or stay... it doesn’t matter because I’ll be coming back for you,” he whispers menacingly, sealing his vow with a brutal kiss, and then took off.
I thought that deep down inside somewhere, I would feel relieved he made the choice for me; but the truth is I felt lost. I was g
rief-stricken and uninterested in the world collapsing around me.
It hurt so much we were finished.
Done.
My first smile was for Gio. My first giggle coaxed by him. Even the first few steps I took were in his direction. Everything I did in life was with him or for him, loving that boy for as long as I could remember.
I know that I will always love him. He will always be a part of me.
But this life, this love, it was all too consuming.
We made too many mistakes with severe and unyielding consequences.
I was on the floor of my closet, crying hysterically, feeling like my world just ended, and in a sense it did.
My whole life had always revolved around Gio, and though he promised he wasn’t leaving me, I was leaving him.
I heard a commotion by the front door.
Pounding, yells, slams and finally the door breaking open.
I heard things crashing to the floor all around me, but I couldn’t open my eyes.
It was hard to even breathe.
I felt a sharp pain strike through my body.
It had to be what utter heartbreak felt like.
I wanted to die.
I think I finally was.
Pain, immense pain took over me.
Please God, just do it.
Feeling like I was about to lose consciousness, I heard him.
“Hey, shhh. Shhh, it’s alright. I’ve got you now. I’m here. I’m here, love.”
I woke in the hospital.
Disoriented, I immediately I reached for my belly, afraid I miscarried and that’s why I was here.
It felt large still. Very round.
Thank God for the biggest mercy of all.
I tried to sit up but felt so weak.
My heart monitor began to beep erratically from the small exertion, causing a nurse outside to look in and then walk back out to re-enter with a doctor.
“Hello, there. I’m Dr. Stevens. This is nurse Carol. How are you feeling?”
“Is my baby okay,” I croak.
“Yes, vitals are stable. The fetus seems to be doing well. You on the other hand, you almost went into premature labor,” he tells me in a gentle voice.
It was all I needed to hear. The baby was okay.
Everything else I could figure out, one step at a time.
“We’re going to have to put you on bed rest for the remainder of your pregnancy, Mrs. Moretti. It’s not safe for you to get up, perform any house chores, anything of that nature, other than to get up to go to the bathroom. Do you have someone you can stay with? We couldn’t get in touch with your husband...” He leaves off, making me look away from his pity.
“How did I get here?” I ask.
I don’t remember much other than feeling heartbroken.
“You were unconscious when Detective Adair brought you in.”
Michael.
It hurt to think of him too. God, the ugly things I said.
“We’re going to keep you for a few days, but if arrangements can’t be made, you can spend the remainder of your pregnancy here in the hospital on bed rest. To be honest, it would be highly recommended you do, but Mrs. Moretti, that’s your decision,” he told me, almost like he was afraid of something.
He kept stressing my name.
Moretti.
He must think we would go against him. Menace him, maybe even hurt him.
“Did anyone else other than the detective come by?” I ask, afraid my in-laws were here somewhere.
“No, actually, we’ve been ordered by the police that no visitors are allowed. You are under protective custody, until further notice.”
What a relief.
“Okay. Umm, thank you. I’ll let you know where I decide to spend bed rest, later. I just really want to sleep, if that’s alright,” I said.
I was dead tired, and the relief that the baby was okay depleted any energy left in me. I wanted to sleep until she was born if I could.
“Yes, of course. It’s imperative you take the bed rest seriously to make it to a full-term pregnancy, Mrs. Moretti.”
“Of course. Again, thank you,” I told him, my eyes already drifting closed. Sleep was so welcome right now. I heard them step out.
I decompressed into the bed holding my belly, content I could finally rest in what felt like the first time in weeks.
I think I may have imagined it but it felt like someone had come into the room and caressed my face while I was dozing off.
I was too worn out to welcome it and too exhausted to even protest it.
I decided to spend the month and a half left on my pregnancy on bed rest in the hospital. It was my best choice. Hospital personnel were present at all hours. A uniformed policeman was right outside my door. It would be the safest place for me and for the baby in the midst of everything.
I was expecting to see Michael soon after I woke the next morning since he was the one to bring me in; but when two officers came in to take a statement I wouldn’t give, I had to admit, I was a little disappointed.
I wanted to thank him for bringing me to the hospital. I could have lost my baby.
I wanted to thank him and honestly, I wanted to lay my eyes on him.
My feelings were complicated. Even to myself.
I’ve decided I don’t care to understand them anymore, because I just couldn’t.
I could only know what I feel, and I’ve felt plenty. He was unknowingly part of this mess.
And he would always have a piece of my heart, too.
But I just wanted to see him again, if only for a second or even from afar, to remember what good looked like in the world. Because that was what he’s always represented to me.
When I remembered what my morals were, it was because I only ever saw them reflected in his eyes.
When I asked the nurse why I was under police protection, she begrudgingly answered it was Detective Adair’s orders. Somehow he knew what I needed.
One more thing to thank him for.
The two policemen tried again a few days later, hoping with some rest in between I’d see reasoning; that obstructing justice wasn’t a good idea with a baby on the way... the insinuated threat didn’t worry me in the least.
Because I just couldn’t care anymore.
For once in my life, I had my own world to create. My own life ahead of me.
Without a penny to do it with either.
But it didn’t matter because as soon as the baby was born and able to travel, I was leaving.
I would pawn all my jewelry in the penthouse to buy the ticket. I would take out whatever cash Gio might have left from the other safes.
I didn’t care what I had to do, but I was going back home to get back on my feet and then I was going to get far enough away from everything that resembled any part of my life.
I was immensely optimistic. It felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel.
When I felt labor pains again, that I had initially mistaken for heartbreak the first time, it was three weeks shy of the baby’s due date. The real due date.
I remained positive. I was too excited for the arrival, I was ready and hopeful. I had time to think all on my own. I had plenty of time to rest and plan, I knew she would be okay. She had to be.
Even when the doctors warned me the baby could be developmentally delayed, still unable to breathe on its own without the lungs completely functioning by themselves yet, and the likelihood that she could not make it being born prematurely was rather high, I had faith everything would be okay.
I labored for 27 hours, and I didn’t think about either of the men in my heart for once. I only had the baby on my mind. He or she was going to arrive finally, and no one else mattered.
Nothing was going to get me down.
Not even when she finally came out and was immediately carted away from me to be intubated, not having been in my arms for a single second, and attached to monitors, and tubes, and mayhem.
Yup, that was my girl.
> She was going to be a survivor.
She was going to make it, like her mother.
I loved her so much already. I thanked God on my knees for blessing my unworthiness with the most precious gift.
She was mine.
All mine.
My little Mia.
Mia Vitale.
Ironically, her first name was her father’s initials.
Intentionally, her name meant mine in my native tongue.
Mia.
My treasured girl was born with lots of dark hair like me. Beautiful, tiny full lips like her father. Light skinned just like him.
She was in neonatal intensive care, but I was unremittingly by her side.
Though I hadn’t held her in my arms still, I felt our bond.
No matter what, she was made with so much love.
Too much love, one could say.
But she was love.
Two days went by and she was stable, she was surviving, she was my miracle.
I was so proud of her. The odds were against her, but then again they’ve always been.
She would make it, I just knew it.
I loved that my life wasn’t about me anymore. I wouldn’t be that selfish and deceiving in my life ever again.
I planned to tell Michael about his daughter, soon.
But with her fighting for her life, a life I would do anything to give her the best of, it wasn’t about any of us right now.
It was all about her.
My heart soared when Michael showed up to my room in the hospital with flowers and a hesitant smile.
I felt a twinge of regret I caused him to hold himself back, but I was feeling intensely grateful for him more than anything.
Mia was here because of him in every way.
Michael, Michael, Michael.
I loved him so much, damn it.
“A little birdy told me you gave birth the day before yesterday. Thought I’d come congratulate you, but I wasn’t sure it’d be appropriate to...” He left it open for me to decide.
