Aftermath (4 page)

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Authors: S. W. Frank

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #United States, #African American, #Romance, #Anthologies

BOOK: Aftermath
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He
sighed
; his family was safe, that’s the bottom line, but heck that
woman
might be
come
the death of him and not a bullet
.

Nico walked ahead with the widow and his sisters
, where t
hey were ushered to the front pew of the huge cathedral.
Giuseppe
and
Sophie
trailed behind
minus Amelda
.
She
was at her husband’s side in Naples, for the funeral of Don Peglesi.
Alfonzo
heard Matteo smashed
a
hospital window when he
was given the
news of his father’s death and required restraint. To
attend
his father’s funeral he was released with a nurse and due back immediately
.
The doctor’s feared infection
, or worse.

Alfonzo
sent flowers and his condolences to Matteo
and his family and planned to drop by to impart
personal
sympathies.

H
is shoes connected with the marble floors and he stood in the grand church. Memories of an obedient and awestruck boy returned. T
he
high ceilings dwarfed the mourners, a
deliberate
reminder
to worshippers
how
infinitesimal man’s
existence
is
in comparison to God. His mother might have
phrased it more eloquently,

Si
, hijo. It is
a
symbol of God’s omnipotence.”

As an innocent child he believed in purity of spirit, until he witnessed and experienced the taste of sin. He thought about the whispered spiteful words from the women in the church
w
hen they saw the lustful eyes of their husband’s upon h
is mother
. He thought of Father Perez who’d stolen donations and
had
sexual relations with a troubled girl. He thought of his anger rising at twelve when Sister Nancy struck his hand because he talked during choir practice in front of his friends.
It
’s
during this time
he lost innocence and
the
religious
questioning began.

Alfonzo
genuflected in the aisle
, made an air cross
, stood and resumed walking.

He was raised in the church,
but
what good did
the
religious teachings do? He was a sinner,
probably
the worst kind. He hadn’t gone to confession or chanted ‘Hail Mary’s’ for fear he’d instantly incinerate. His eyes flicked over the large bronze figure in the distance; it’s head downcast with jagged metal thorns protruding from it and tensed. All the evil he’d done
in his short life left a bloody trail leading to his feet. He carried a great burden
,
but unlike the biblical figure, Alfonzo chose war and left peace for the
staunchly
religious man. Books and chants
did
not shield his family from bullets. Evil men did not seek compromise, they sought destruction. He would not become a martyr, his shortcomings made him unworthy of such distinction. Platitudes were unnecessary
when speaking truth to oneself. Justifications were excuses for acting on one’s will. Before he knew he was Luzo’s son, he’d been a troublesome
youth;
today he was worse, he was a murderous
man
. He refused to
apolog
ize
for defending his lot
. He
chose
not
to
offend
the
C
reator
.
When th
e time
c
ame
he’d
accept
the
punishment
for his wicked deeds
.

The
preceding
days were testament of his nature
and t
he
pile of bodies was
the
evidence
. How
could he
deny
who or what he was, huh
?

G
etting
to heaven
wasn’t
the
objective
;
keeping his family alive
and earthly happiness
was
his
goal
. He
already
resigned himself to the inevitable
. W
hen his soul passed over
,
the doors to
heaven
would slam
in his face. No,
he wouldn’t
lie;
heck
he’d c
leanse his soul
with truth
and d
ie an
honest
man!

I
nquisitive
stares followed Alfonzo’s steps. T
hey observed
a man with
impeccabl
e
taste,
short
cropped
hair
with
razor sharp
edge
s
and radiant skin
. The face and physique were masculine beauty. His gait was strong, unhurried, and confident. Charisma exuded from him and some were in awe. This was
Sergio Giacanti
reborn.

The
brilliant eyes scanned
their
faces
in
pass
ing
,
giving acknowledgment with
a
respectful
dip of
his
chin
and their reaction was one of pride
and t
hey claimed the American as their own
.
The Giacanti’s had come home
.

 

 

 

                                                ****

 

 

The services had yet to
start.
People continued
to
arriv
e
and were
escorted to designated
sections. Immediate family sat in the front pews, distant relatives and dignitaries filled
the remaining
proximal spaces
on the
wooden benches. When Alfonzo turned to glimpse the assembl
y
, he noticed the enormous cathedral was
packed
and
he derived
comfort know
ing
Alberti amassed so many friends.

Light streamed in from the multicolored stain glass windows, casting dancing
sparkles
on the coffin. He
gave a hard sigh and a firm hand gripped his shoulder then released. It seemed Giuseppe, too experienced a sense of melancholy and in
empathy
extended a hand. Alfonzo shuffled his feet and straightened his spine. He didn’t want to feel anymore, not death’s chasm,
it’d
socked him
on numerous occasions.
He couldn’t shed tears in the open
instead
suppressed them for his drink. Yeah, he wallowed in the spirits because he didn’t have to think. But, Selange changed
most of
that
. H
er presence in his life gave him so much to live for and hold on to that without her he sank into a pit so deep, climbing out was impossible to do.

“Your family’s here.” Giuseppe whispered.

Alfonzo’s head swiveled to see
the mother of his children
and
blood slammed against his ventricles
. The muscle near his mandible pulsed as he tried to contain his excitement at the sight of her and
the children
. Where were the babies, he wondered? He didn’t see Anita and guessed
she left them in her care.
Then a speck of joy flashed when he saw the entourage.
His mother, Domingo, Teresa, Ariana and her sons were here.

How
the
hell
did
Selange
manage
that
?

S
elange
held A
llie
’s hand
. They were
pretty in their dresses.
Unconsciously, he smiled
wider
as
they
neared
. He
immediately
recognized Selange’s
Valentino dress and signature shoes.
Great minds do think alike, he mused.
His chest expanded with pride
.
Sal
wore a new suit
and his unruly curls were
tr
immed and
his
hairline
etched
to perfection
, undoubtedly
Domingo’s
handiwork. The dude was on point with his cuts. Sal smiled when
he
saw his dad
and
scurried
ahead of the
usher
.

He claimed the space
between
Alfonzo
and Giuseppe. “Hey dad, hey
U
ncle Geo.”


Ciao piccolo Alfonzo.

Alfonzo pat his son’s shoulder, “Missed you, hijo.” Then he
tapped Allie’s nose
when she
drew close and s
he waved shyly at
her dad, the wild thing did then cl
utched
the edge of
mom’s dress.
This was her first funeral and he wondered if Selange explained
death
to the child
,
and then
withdrew the thought, of course she
di
d, she’s the teacher and
she would never allow the children to attend a funeral unprepared
.

S
elange
took a seat and
brought
Allie
against her side.
His daughter sat there
obediently
and folded her hands
.
It
’s
apparent his mother had given
the children lessons on church etiquette, because he certainly had not. “Hey babe,” he said to Selange.

She whisper
ed
,
“Hi,
honey
,
I grab
bed
more
family.
I’m so sorry about Alberti, I really am.

“No hello Geo. No sympathy for me, bella?”


Hello Geo, my sympathies.”

Giuseppe scoffed, “Be lucky I am sad today and will not make a fuss.”

Selange squint
at the irascible man
then rolled her eyes.
To think she was worried about him…oh…he could be such an ass!

“We’ll talk later, I’m just glad
everyone’s
safe.”
Alfonzo said
when he saw her displeasure
at Giuseppe
.
He
was tempted to kiss her
petulant
mouth;
instead he gave her an innocent peck on the cheek, conforming to
the
Catechism regarding chastity of the Catholic Church
which he
could
recite
thanks to his mom. ‘
Sexual pleasure is morally disordered when sought for itself, isolated from its procreative and unitive purposes
.

I
n other words, sexual pleasure may be sought only in marriage
and
for
having babies
, now isn’t that a bitch?

With
antiquated
views
and written
prohibitions
regarding
sexual pleasure, inciden
ts
of
sexual scandals
were expected
.
Unmarried consenting adults engaged in kissing or lovemaking in his opinion wasn’t a
moral
aberration. The affront is compelling a man to go against his nature
. Humans are sexual beings,
inner conflict
and
rebellion
is expected when forced to change
. The id, ego and super-ego are certain to battle and wreak havoc
every time
.
That’s what
happens when you’re living in pretense
.
He frowned
. There were
disagree
ments
with
some teachings, yet he respect
ed the religious beliefs of others. To each his own
. An
honest sinner
is an oxy-moron, so too is a
moral less
clergy man.

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