Page 2 of Mafia Queen
“Stop catching butterflies.” Mamma yanks the brush down.
“Ow!” I exclaim.
“Cazzo,” she growls at my uncooperative hair. My head’s jerked around again, but in a different way.
“Mamma!” Rosetta exclaims.
With a finalsnap, my hair is in a ponytail.
“Don’t scold me,” Mamma says, dropping into the chair at the head of the table. “I’m in no mood for that, or Joanna Scotto, or you losing your shoes.” She turns to me and points at the bowl. “And I’m not in the mood to hear you complain you’re hungry later.”
I eat a spoonful of pastina before Mamma starts feeding me like a baby.
She’s been tired since her belly started getting rounder. She told Papà that carrying this baby’s been more exhausting than Rosetta, but not as exhausting as when I was inside her. They laughed. Papino kissed the top of my head.
Mamma’s been short-tempered since Papà got out of the hospital at the end of summer. Rosetta goes to school now, so she hasn’t been able to play with me in forever. It’s been lonely.
“Will Fiore come today?” I ask.
My best friend plays with me in the alley behind the grocery, and though Sal and Tomas are always watching us, they are more like ghosts, or furniture. They don’t boss and get mad like Mamma does, and they don’t kiss away my hurts either.
“Am I his keeper?” With the flick of a wrist, Mamma answers herself. No. She is not.
Just then, a movement by the stairs catches my eye.
“Papino!” I cry, jumping out of my chair. “Buongiorno!”
By the time I get to the kitchen doorway, he’s already there, crouched down with his arms ready to fold me inside his warm embrace. His shirt smells like spicy things, and his moustache tickles my cheek.
“Il mio soldatino,” he coos, calling me by my nickname: little soldier. He reaches out another arm and pulls Rosetta into his embrace. She’s stiff next to me as if she doesn’t love him anymore… which is fine with me. I have enough love to take her place as favorite.
After kissing both our heads, he stands. Mamma waits with a smile. He takes her jaw in one of his big hands and pulls her into a kiss.
“I can’t find my suede shoes,” Rosetta interrupts, and is ignored.
“How is my son this morning?” Papà puts his hand on Mamma’s belly. Usually, you can’t really tell it’s changed unless you know, but when he does that, it’s as if she’s huge.
“Don’t try to distract me,” she says.
“How would I do that?” He goes in for another kiss, but she holds him back.
“Girls,” Mamma says, “get ready. Violetta, put a jacket on. Rosetta, I don’t care which shoes you wear, but both of you, be at the door in ten minutes.”
We rush, leaving the half-finished pastina for Mamma’s helper, Carlotta, to clean up when she comes in the afternoon. Rosetta yelps when she finds one suede shoe and gets lost in her deep closet to find the other.
“Come on!” I say to Rosetta, my doll and favorite hooded sweatshirt dragging on the floor.
“I’ll be right there!”
I can’t tell time, but it feels as though it’s been too long. The sounds of shoes being flung around comes from deep inside the darkness of her closet.
“Ah!” Rosetta cries, as if she’s found her second shoe.
There’s yelling from downstairs. I panic. I don’t like getting yelled at, so I run down, jacket dragging behind me.
Mamma and Papà are not by the front door. They’re in the kitchen, where bowls of pastina are now too cold to eat, talking in that way that’s like yelling but also whispering at the same time. They’re standing close and touching. So that’s confusing, because they look like they love each other, but they’re also very mad at the same time.
“Santi’s taking care of other business tonight,” Papino says. “We can go out tomorrow.”
