by S. W. Frank
“I’m fine Sal.” Selange replied pulling away from her future mother-in-law and dabbing at her face.
“No she’s not,” Aldonza volunteered. “She’s crying because her daddy’s dead and he’s not here to walk her down the aisle. That’s what you said mommy!”
Selange chastised Aldonza once again and Maria shook a finger in disapproval. Sal entered and addressed his mom like a man, although he was a child in stature and age. “Don’t cry mom. I’ll stand in for grandpa and take you to dad.”
Selange was speechless. Maria was to do the honors, yet Sal’s suggestion is one she seriously considered and wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. She looked over at Maria who nodded her approval, “It’s a wonderful idea. Nothing is written in stone. Plans can always change.”
The sadness lifted from her heart. When had Sal become this mature, she wondered? “Okay Sal, thanks for helping me out.”
The boy pushed out his chest and replied, “No problem, mom. I got you.”
She grinned, “You got me, huh?”
“That’s what dad says.”
Mom hugged her son, “And I got you hijo. I’ll have you until you tell me to let go.”
Sal made an exaggerated choking sound, “Okay, let go mama!”
The women laughed. Sal was too much.
****
“Giuseppe, where’s the ring?”
“Don’t worry little brother, relax, it’s safe,” Giuseppe said patting his pocket. His smile broadened at Alfonzo’s anxious expression and he had to go there, “What are you nervous about; you’ve done this before and with the same woman, unless you are afraid of making the same mistake twice, eh?”
“My mistake is asking you to be my best man.” Alfonzo quipped as he fumbled with the silk bow-tie. The truth is he was really nervous. He didn’t want anything to go wrong and he had a lot on his mind.
The designer, Tomás Gurtano personally delivered the tux and insisted upon staying as his important client dressed. He brushed imaginary wrinkles from the custom designed tuxedo jacket. The handsome groom was an image of sophistication in the cream tux and certain to have the women guests commenting for ages. Tomás pushed aside Alfonzo’s clumsy hands to properly fix the bow-tie, unafraid of the rumored irascible temper.
Alfonzo fired a stern warning, “Do that again and you might lose a finger.”
“Ah, I have others.” Tomás grinned. Men of Alfonzo Diaz’ stature was accustomed to people cowering with a glance. Tomás dealt with many difficult clients. He utilized the direct approach; it's the only way to gain their respect. “There, done. Perfecto!”
Alfonzo checked himself out in the long mirror. Giuseppe was also captured in the reflection, “Looks good Tomás, thanks.”
“You look like the ice-cream man.” Giuseppe chided and then slapped Alfonzo’s upper back. “A very stylish one fratello.”
“Grazie.”
“Switching to your Italian roots, eh?” Giuseppe laughed as he moved to stand at his brother’s side and admired himself in the long mirror. The dark blue suit strained to contain the broad shoulders and could not disguise the strength of its wearer.
Giuseppe sniffed and his nostrils flared at the sight. He never liked being part of weddings, they were stupid ceremonies in his opinion; fairytale nonsense for women to view in pictures with their friends. Undoubtedly, there would be useless tchotchkes about the house to remind the couple. Amelda had an abundance of trinkets. He frowned at the silliness. Look at the cake, the dress, the church and on and on he’d heard enough of it from Amelda and her friends, eversince Amelda was an unmarried teen. Women planned their ideal weddings long before there was a prospective groom!
Alfonzo turned from the mirror, “Stay for the wedding Tomás,” he said to the designer and then headed for the door.
“Hey, where are you going?” His brother asked.
“Getting some alone time.”
“Do not forget your wedding begins in one hour.”
“I know.” Alfonzo answered over his shoulder and opened the door. He heard voices downstairs. They had a full house today with family and friends and he hadn’t enjoyed a quiet moment since their arrival yesterday. Right now he just wanted a quiet place to sit still and think.
He jogged down the back staircase leading to the cellar where he’d secreted the large box which arrived months ago. For some inexplicable reason he hadn’t opened it; he wasn’t sure why but the urge to view its contents surfaced and he was curious, today of all days to open it up.
The sounds of people faded the moment he entered the cellar and the door automatically shut behind him. The shiny glass shelves sparkled as he passed racks and racks of expensive wines and spirits. He went to the antique chest sitting in a corner near a circular table and chair and bent down.
He stared at the decorative chest for a moment; admiring the beautiful carvings. It was hand-crafted, African he surmised and it screamed antique.
After the craziness with the Russian and Nico, he sort of focused on other things to avoid unlocking the box to the past. Nico’s words, “Expect your heritage in a box,” had given a clue to its contents. Alfonzo wasn’t ready then to open it. He wasn’t curious enough, however today on the morning of his wedding he wanted to know what lurked in what he considered equivalent to Pandora’s Box.
He took a deep breath, punched in the code and the chest clicked open.
He stood. Before he went through the items, he decided to fetch an aged bottle of wine and have a drink. His gut churned, warning him he’d need it and he listened. Thus far, his instincts were often on point.
He chose a Red Bordeaux; it had aged long enough, besides it seemed the color of blood was fitting for the occasion. He didn’t go through the swirling glass and sniffing before tasting bullshit. Once he popped the cork, he sat the wine on the table to aerate and took a seat. A hand steady hand reached to the chest and retrieved the manila envelope from atop the pile of items which he placed down in front of him as the other hand gripped the bottle and brought it to his lips for a very healthy drink.
“Ah!”
The bottle clinked on contact with the glass surface and Alfonzo’s mouth descended at the corners as he slid the document from the envelope. In his hand he held a letter from his father and the world stopped…cold.
My son,
I appeal to you for forgiveness. I have given Nico this letter for safe-keeping and he is instructed to present it to you in the event those entrusted with your tutelage have passed on.
I hope this letter finds you in good health and strong. Seeing you at my bedside made me the happiest man in the world. You were right to pray for my soul because I lost it the moment I allowed your mother to leave. I died that day my boy. She took my heart and I became lost. When I learned about you, my heart beat again. I had hope. I thought I could keep you safe with Nico watching and protect you from the distance, but I was wrong. I have been wrong about many things. Yet, I am not wrong about you. You are not me, you are better.
By now you know Alberti is also your Uncle and were told the entire story about our family. Do not bow to anyone, do not feel shame or apologize for the lovers of old who birth sons. We are not bastards or secrets to be put aside in shame. Feel pride and speak loudly the Giacanti name. Do not relinquish the jewels of Semira. They were presents from the King. Keep safe all of our possessions, for they are your heritage. They are our birthright and let no man take it.
I am proud of you Alfonzo. It was an honor to meet you face to face. Protect what you love to the death. One day, I hope you can forgive an arrogant man for his absence when his son needed him most. I am dying, but I go in peace knowing my blood lives on.
–Your father
Alfonzo experienced a hard lump in
his throat and he reached for the bottle and washed it down with wine. Another lump formed and he drank more until his eyes stung and his heart-beat slowed. He was a boy again, missing what he never had. “Damn you papa, what good is this shit now?” He shouted and tossed the bottle at the wall. Wine slid down just as Alfonzo’s head fell to his chest and he cried, “You’re right I am better than you because I will never desert my children. They will always know I love them –always goddammit!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Shanda put the groceries away and took Gee outdoors for a game of fetch. The humid air had cooled. The wind caused the leaves on the tropical trees to flap and she gazed out over the lawn wondering whether the storm might come sooner than expected. She had the basement outfitted with supplies, even an inflatable mattress, but shit, who wanted to be holed up alone in a tropical storm with a puppy and baby fat?
The dog barked her back into the game after she stopped when she thought she saw a flash of light emit from a car parked far down the street.
She dismissed it as the sun reflecting off of the metal and tossed the stick again. Gee raced after it. His stubby legs moved with quickness that only animals possessed, unless you’re a trained athlete like those she watched in the Olympics. Those sprinters ran damn fast.
The dog brought the stick back and dropped the wood at her sandaled feet. “Good boy…good boy, Gee!” She smiled and bent to retrieve the stick from the ground. Her face contorted into a grimace when the baby suddenly kicked and there was an uncomfortable pressure to her belly.
Shanda frowned. Maybe, she’d better go inside and sit, she thought. Lugging stuff to the cellar in preparation for the storm was undoubtedly the cause.
“Okay boy, that’s enough,” she called out as she walked slowly toward the house.
Minutes later, feet up and left lateral recumbent as the doctor instructed the heaviness subsided and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was far too early to have labor pains. The dog barked and she shushed him in order to nap. Carrying a baby was harder than she initially thought; the shit was downright tiring. She had no control of when the need to sleep would arise because Giuseppe’s seed zapped her strength.
Fatigued, Shanda lapsed into a deep sleep.
The puppy lay on the throw rug, settling down along with its master. A movement outside brought the dog on all fours. The puppy scrambled to the door barking. Shanda remained asleep throughout the racket and when the door opened, the small pup stepped back, snarling like a large hound at the intruder.
The man ignored the small canine. He stood over the woman and snapped a picture and then went to snoop through her belongings. Inside her sparkly purse he found a photo. He recognized the woman kneeling beside her children. Bingo, this was Shanda Johnson. Who else would have a photograph of Selange Diaz and her kids other than a family member or friend?
****
The guests had arrived. In ten minutes the wedding was scheduled to begin. Giuseppe scoured the house, looking in rooms and cursing when he couldn’t find Alfonzo anywhere. With fifteen minutes to spare, he informed Selange of his dilemma and the women in the living room stared at Giuseppe like he’d gone mad. Selange flopped on the sofa and didn’t say a word. He didn’t expect to feel such remorse until he saw the devastation on her face, which she quickly covered with a mask of steel.
Amelda took charge, “What do you mean Geo, you were to secure him?”
Giuseppe snarled at his little sister. She’d always thought she was the boss of him since they were children. She was not helping with such an idiotic question; instead it made the situation worse. “How do you secure an adult Amelda, tell me, eh, stupido?”
“Stronzo!” Amelda yelled in her brother’s face. In her high heels and flowing dress, with long silk hair, she looked like a model at odds with an imposing beast. She did not fear her brother. He was entrusted with an important task. His failure was unacceptable and she would slap his ass. “Papa spoiled you, I swear.”
“And you sorellina are a hag. How Matteo stands the screeching is a mystery!”
Selange interrupted their shouting match, “Geo, did you call his phone?”
Giuseppe’s tone softened, “He left it in the room.”
“Please find him Giuseppe and when you do, tell him it’s okay. We don’t have to get married. I won’t love him any less.”
Giuseppe frowned. The woman’s simple plea made him feel worse. Any reservations he had about Selange were eradicated by the utter devastation written on her face. She loved his brother; it couldn’t be more evident than at this moment. “Do not worry bella. I will find my brother and bring him to you, capisce?”
“You better Geo!” Amelda scolded.
“Go look after Matteo before a pretty guest steals him away,” Giuseppe growled. He’d say anything to remove her from his presence and the mention of her precious Matteo worked. Amelda flew out the patio doors in search of her husband. However, Crystalia and Lucia took up her mantle and began to badger Giuseppe to death.
Maria fingered her beads and closed her eyes to gain clarity. She prayed for her son’s return. Selange sat quietly with her hands folded, and listened to everyone arguing and assigning blame. She said nothing because it wasn’t Giuseppe’s fault. If Alfonzo left, he had a good reason. He wouldn’t desert her without one, especially after their wonderful start to the day. No, something was wrong, she felt it, something bad happened. Fuck a stupid wedding; her concern was for Alfonzo. She wanted someone to find him and make certain he was unharmed and emotionally okay. They didn’t know him the way she did. He had a tendency to shut everyone out when he became troubled and often lost track of time.
Maria whispered scriptures and gathered the children and led them from the chaos to seek assistance from the wedding planner to stall until Alfonzo was located.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
Selange looked up to find Nico and a small entourage in the doorway looking at her with sympathy. They had traveled here for a wedding, but instead they would learn the groom may have fled. Nico and his family were an intimidating bunch with those Mohawks and rugged features. Ari was the softness among the rough and Selange smiled wryly when their eyes met. Bianca and her daughters along with Bruno and Sophie quickly took their leave to allow the family to address the crisis at hand.
Lucia spoke, “Giuseppe has lost the groom!”
Ari recognized Selange’s silent distress and sauntered over. She wore her hair blonde and it looked fabulous. Pregnancy suited her.
Ari sat beside Selange and gently touched her hand, “Hey.”
Selange maintained the brave front, “Hi Ari, you look gorgeous.”
“So do you.”
There was a loud quarrel between the women and Giuseppe that continued until Nico directed their anger, “Everybody split up and check around, he’s here somewhere.”
They agreed and scattered to search for the missing groom. Nico lingered in the doorway, too angry to move, too fucking mad to do anything except stand still until the fury subsided. Alfonzo hadn’t learned shit, had he? He frowned as he watched the two women, one his future and the other, his past. Different women, yet fantastic nonetheless. If Alfonzo took off without notice and humiliated Selange, he was a callous sonovabitch!
“There’s never a dull moment around here, is there?” Ari joked.
Selange forced a grin. “It seems that way.”
“How you hol
ding up?”
“Fine,” Selange said mechanically, although she was truly heartbroken.
“You want some ice-cream?”
It was hard not to laugh, considering not long ago they were once at each other’s throats and now here they sat in kinship. “I only have chocolate.”
Ari smirked. “That’s fine, besides I came to eat and I’ll be very disappointed if I’m not fed. You don’t want to see me unfed, I’m a downright bitch.”
Selange shook her head. “Oh God Ari, it’s great to see you. Thank goodness you’re normal because that’s what I need right now.”
Ari looked past Selange’s head at Nico as he mouthed, “I’ll be back.”
She gave him a discreet nod and then resumed distracting Selange until they found Alfonzo and if he developed cold feet, she hoped Nico kicked his ass!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Time passed without a whisper as Alfonzo perused the photo album, accompanied by another bottle of expensive wine. He’d nearly finished the entire bottle while staring at the pictures of his father and uncles during happier times. In one camera shot, the brothers were smiling, cigars hanging from their mouths as they sat at a table. In another his father was in a tub full of bubbles with a cigarette in his mouth, looking hung-over and Alfonzo chuckled in sympathy. There were many private moments like these, but it’s the picture of his father and Sophie that brought a scowl. “Fucking player!”
He sucked on the neck of the wine bottle and drained the liquor. His lips puckered at the sour taste of wine and the sad ending to what could have been a wonderful love story, except whose love story, Maria or Sophie’s?
The wine did not dull his senses or suppress the pain. He and Giuseppe were the sons of a guy who lacked morals and he scoffed because they both possessed the cursed gene.
