Page 56 of The Mafia King's Lost Son
“Mama!” He jumps up when he sees me. “Where were you? Rosa said you were sleeping but it’s really late!”
I glance at the clock. Nine thirty. Not that late, but for Luca who’s used to me being up at six, it might as well be noon.
“Sorry, baby. I was tired from yesterday.”
“D is still sleeping too. Rosa said he works really hard so he needs rest.”
D. When did he start calling Dante that?
I look at Rosa, who just smiles knowingly and goes back to cooking.
“That’s right,” I say, sitting down next to Luca. “Dante works very hard.”
“Can we go outside today? I want to show D the fort I’m building.”
“Maybe later, sweetheart. If it isn’t too cold. Eat your breakfast first.”
The next few days settle into something that almost resembles normal life, though it’s anything but peaceful.
Luca continues warming to Dante in ways that make my heart ache and heal at the same time. He follows Dante around the house like a shadow, asking a million questions about everything.
“Why do you have so many guards?”
“To keep bad people away.”
“Why are there bad people?”
“Because the world isn’t always safe, buddy.”
“But you keep us safe, right?”
“Always.”
I watch these exchanges from doorways and windows, seeing Dante struggle with how much truth to tell a five-year-old. Seeing him wrestle with guilt and unfamiliar emotions as he tries to explain adult failures in terms a child can understand.
One afternoon I find them in Dante’s office, Luca sitting on his lap while Dante works on his computer.
“D, what kind of job do you do?”
My breath catches. I freeze in the doorway, waiting to see how Dante handles this.
He’s quiet for a long moment, and I can see the tension in his shoulders.
“I do a lot of things,” he finally says.
“Like what?” Luca asks further, and I can see a look of helplessness settle on Dante’s face, he looks like he needs rescuing.
“Transportation, exportation and importation of goods.”
“What does that mean? And what type of goods?”
At this point, I know I have to step in or Dante will probably lose his mind from all the questions.
“Um…baby, why don’t you let D concentrate on work. He needs to make more money to get you toys.”
Dante looks up at me, a look of relief filling his expression.
For a moment, I fear Luca will protest but he just mumbles “okay,” and goes back to coloring while Dante works.
