Page 1 of Mafia Queen
Prologue
VIOLETTA
How long does it take to become a woman? How many moons disappear into the darkness? How many suns climb over the sheer face of the horizon only to collapse on the other side?
The journey to womanhood is not measured in suns or moons, but in decisions counted like money that can never be spent. The account is always at zero, because one choice leads to another, on and on—forever, and ever, and ever—until a girl is lost inside them, looking for her own edges.
Are you here, inside this foreverness of broken stars and cold space?
Santino, I told you to set me free, and you turned those words into your language and made it into a promise of forever. I hated you for it, but then I met you where you were, and the words you made me say in that church turned into the truth.
Lo voglio.
Because of you, I am who I was always meant to be.
Without you, I’m not sure I’ll ever be free, or whole, or finished.
It’s dark here, and heavy, and the pain goes on, and on, and on. You’re supposed to be mine, and I am yours, but you are gone. I am unowned and all that I possess. I am my only companion, and I am a stranger to myself.
Lo voglio.
Lo voglio, Santino.
I do, I do, I do.
But I don’t know what to do.
1
VIOLETTA
FIFTEEN YEARS EARLIER
I am five, which—as my sister has pointed out repeatedly—makes me too young to know how Mamma got a baby inside her. I’m also too little to make my ownpastina, brush my own hair, or pour my own milk.
I’m not too little for any of those things. I’m just too little for them to let me.
Today, Raggedy Ann sits in my lap, sulking. The pastina is too hot, and Mamma didn’t put in enough milk to cool it off. The blob of white is shaped a little like a cat. It pushes against the puddle of melted butter that has dots of salt indenting it and a streak of opaque fat in the center.
Normally, I’d feed Raggedy Ann half of my pastina, but it’s too hot for even a doll. We live in a big house and have lots of food. Mamma just opened the milk, so there’s plenty. Papàsells it at the store. But she put it away already, so that’s that.
Raggedy Ann will have to go hungry or burn her tongue. Ever since I tried to brush the red yarn that made up her hair, and wound up pulling out half of it, she won’t do anything that hurts even a little. So no pastina for her.
“Eat,” Mamma commands from behind me, dragging a brush through my hair. My head jerks when she hits a tangle.
I swirl my spoon around the porridge. Sometimes I can get the butter and milk to make a perfect spiral, but not with my head being pulled all over the place.
“Where are my suede shoes?” Rosetta asks, coming into the kitchen from her room.
I remember this scene in English, even though I only spoke Italian then.
“How should I know?” Mamma quickly brushes knots out of the ends.
“Patricia Scotto’s mother always lays out her clothes in the mornings.” Rosetta slides into her chair. Lately, she likes saying things that make Mamma mad. I don’t understand it.
“Because she’s a boredstronza.”
Rosetta gasps. I giggle. Mamma taps the side of my head with the back of the brush.
