Page 66 of Mafia Bride
“We heard there was a…” She stops herself the way we all do when talking about something camorra related, out of habit. It always seemed like a dumb superstition, but now light shone on the other side of the custom. The demons we fear invoking are real.
“Yes,” I say. “It’s been a stressful day.”
I won’t cry in front of Santino or Loretta, but Zia? Can I not cry in front of my zia?
I’m alive, but others aren’t. My life caused someone else’s death. A father? A brother? A son. A human who could have changed, and now never will.
Squeezing my face and pushing my fist against my mouth doesn’t stop it from coming. I sniff with a hitch in my breath.
“Oh, my baby,” Zia whispers. “I’m so sorry this happened. We love you so much.”
“I love you, too.” Tears prick at my eyes, and I walk deeper into the house where Loretta can’t see my tears. “It was terrible, Zia. Terrible.”
“Were you hurt?”
“No.” My bandages catch the flowing skirt, but they don’t cover the hurt she fears.
“I knew you would be able to take care of yourself.”
“I wish I didn’t have to.” It comes out as a whisper.
“I know, mypatatina. I know. That has been our wish for years. We tried so hard. Know we tried.”
I want to stay mad, but I can’t, because I believe her, and that quiets the surge of tears. I sniff and wipe my eyes.
“I should go,” I say.
“Thank you for calling us,” she says even though Zio’s not on the call. “We love you, Violetta.Patatina.”
She’s ready to get off the phone without asking where I am or the number I’m calling from. She just accepts it all without question, and for the first time, I understand how easily your will to know and do things for yourself can be taken away.
“I love you, too.”
“Trust Santino,” she says. “He’ll keep you safe.”
I hang up before I can tell her that down in my bones, I know he’ll try the same as they did.
Outside, Loretta lounges in the shade, talking on a cell phone. She’s not laughing and her expression isn’t casual and chatty.
She’s inside Santino’s world, and it’s time for her to answer some questions.
18
VIOLETTA
Loretta gets off the phone as I slide the glass door open. Back outside, I put the landline on the table, and pour myself a glass of white wine. I don’t even like wine, and I’m too young to legally drink, but I’ve aged about ten years in the past four hours.
I tip the bottle over Loretta’s glass and she nods.
“Thanks for the phone,” I say, dropping into a chair.
“Prego.”
“And the help cleaning up.”
Loretta lifts her glass to me.
“To women sticking together.”
