Amore (2 page)

Four Days later –

Giovanni wiped the damp rag down his face. The swelling to his left eye had ripened to the point of shutting. But he could see out of both. His nose was broken. The
dottore
had insisted he wear a splint to keep it from misshaping horribly. It was the bruise to his stomach and back from
Patri’s
kicks that made his aunts weep whenever they caught sight of him without his shirt. Still each day the physical pain hurt less and less.

“Gio!”

“Avanti,”
Giovanni answered.

He walked out of the small bathroom into his room. Lorenzo and Santo entered. Carlo and Nico were noticeably absent. Though he was still angry at his friends, it was Lorenzo’s betrayal that hurt him the most. However, he’d rather have them visit than continue to suffer under forced exile alone.

Santo closed the door.

“Is he dead?” Giovanni asked.

“Who? Armando? No. But the pig squeals.”

Giovanni’s gaze slowly lifted. Lorenzo looked to Santo and then back to him. “Alejandro is dead. They bury him tomorrow. It wasn’t your fault, Gio. He got in the way of your strike. I told
Patri
this. The fight with Armando got out of hand.”

The news of Alejandro’s death did not catch him by surprise. He heard his aunt’s whisper about it days ago. Giovanni went to his bed and sat. He had never imagined he’d be responsible for taking someone’s life. He’d seen it from his father’s and uncles’ hands, but never his own. He closed his eyes and accepted the grim responsibility. It was Lorenzo who approached him. It was Lorenzo who betrayed him.

“You made me do this,” Giovanni said to his cousin. “I think it was you that set me up, to see her that way. Wasn’t it?”

“It was him, Gio,” Santo confirmed. But Santo couldn’t look him in the eye. He didn’t trust the opinion of anyone who could not look him in the eye.

“Shut the fuck up!” Lorenzo hissed. Lorenzo stared down at Giovanni but offered no explanation. He knew they treaded carefully around him. None of them had killed a person before. Giovanni had unintentionally garnered respect among his friends and cousin that would shadow him for the rest of his life. His cousin spoke in a low contrite voice. “We can’t visit long. Vito isn’t here but he will return. He’s out with
Patri
now. They meet with the Mancinis.”

Giovanni nodded. He again looked at his hands and remembered the knife and blood.

“Gio, I am sorry. What we did. What I did. I shouldn’t have. We were in trouble because of your obsession with that
puttana
. It made you look weak! I only did this to make us strong. I make you strong, Gio,” Lorenzo said.

“It is time for you to shut your fucking mouth!” Giovanni slowly stood. “Santo’s right. You betrayed me. You have blood on your hands too!”

“She’s a whore! I didn’t force her! You saw her, Gio. Did it look like I forced her?” he shouted. “What is my crime? I’m your brother! Your blood brother! You had us fighting with Mancini in the streets for her. They laughed at you. They don’t laugh anymore do they?” Lorenzo smiled.

Giovanni cast his gaze away. Lorenzo put his hand on his shoulder. “Yes, I was wrong. But so were you, Gio, about her and everything. You see that now. Eh? With me at your side I will always make sure you do the right thing, because I love you, brother. I will protect you.”

The words failed Giovanni. He could barely process any of it now. Walking in on his girlfriend sucking the dick of his greatest nemesis, while his cousin and friends laughed, broke something in him. It wasn’t just her betrayal, but his inability to not see it in her. It made him weak and Lorenzo was right to wake him up.

“Where is Carlo? Nico?” Giovanni asked. “Why aren’t they here?”

Lorenzo looked back at Santo, who again kept his eyes trained to the floor. And then Lorenzo’s gaze swung back to Giovanni. “It’s Carlo. He’s in trouble.”

Giovanni frowned. “What kind of trouble?” he asked.

“Gabriella now accuses him of rape. First she’s fucking him behind every tree they can find, and now she says she was raped. They came for him. Dragged him from his bed in the middle of the night. His sister said they are going to send him away for the crime. I tried to talk to
Patri
but he won’t listen. Gabriella is a Mancini. And with what you did to Armando… Alejandro… Gio, Carlo will not come out of this without your help.”

“My help? My help!” he knocked Lorenzo’s hand away. “How am I to help, cousin?
Patri
has banished me here. My mother has taken to bed sick with worry. They fear she could lose the baby. I haven’t spoken to anyone outside of here in days. And I still don’t know my punishment. This isn’t on me alone! You do as you please and then circle back for solutions. I have none!”

“This is Carlo!” Lorenzo shouted. “We must all help him!”

Giovanni shrugged. His father had taught him something four days ago. He would not shed a tear for a woman or friend again. He cut his gaze to Santo. He looked back to his cousin. “I can’t do shit for Carlo now.”

Santo cleared his throat and spoke up. “Armando is being released from the hospital today. He has a broken collarbone and several cracked ribs. The blade you used on him didn’t go deep. It wasn’t the worst of his injuries. He can’t stand. I hear he is wheeled around in a chair and pisses in a bag.” Santo chuckled. “You’re right, Gio. We are all to blame. But Carlo is our brother, our friend. And he has no father to speak for him.”

Lorenzo nodded in agreement. “Help us, Gio. Help him.”

“
Va bene
,” Giovanni said. “I make no promises.”

Two Weeks Later –

“Avanti!”
his father said.

After visiting with his mother he was summoned. Giovanni’s legs felt like jelly, but he stepped inside. He kept swallowing saliva and nerves. For the first time in weeks his father looked him in the eye.

“Close the door,” Don Tomosino ordered.

He did as he was told.
Zio
Vito was with him. His uncle chose to take a seat on the sofa next to Flavio. Giovanni had to approach Tomosino alone. He glanced over to see that Dominic sat on the floor near his father’s desk playing with his toy soldiers. He looked up at Giovanni and smiled. The fear in his heart lessened. Most days his father kept Dominic close to him when he was in his office working. A privilege Giovanni only experienced when he too was Dominic’s age.

“Come closer,” his father said.

Giovanni walked in and stopped before his desk. His father didn’t speak. Giovanni lowered his gaze and found his voice. “I want to apologize, for my behavior, for everything. I regret my actions.”

“I hear this was all for a girl who hurt your feelings?” Don Tomosino asked.

“Pussy,” Rocco chuckled.

He lifted his head and looked at his father and then his uncles. “No, sir. It was a matter of respect. Armando Mancini and my friends disrespected me. I handled the insult poorly.”

Tomosino cut his eyes over to Flavio who stared directly at Giovanni. He knew what the men thought of his father’s weakness for his mother. Whatever Giovanni did, he was always an extension of his father. It was a lesson he’d never forget. He had hoped his response gave them some explanation.

“You will pay Armando a visit today and apologize to him and his mother.” Flavio informed Giovanni.

The news was an unexpected blow to his gut. He glanced to his father to see if they were his wishes. His father stared back at him expressionless. He turned his gaze to Rocco who smoked a cigar and winked at him.
Zio
Vito was the only one who couldn’t look Giovanni in the eye. He stared at the floor with his hat in his hands.

“
Patri
? I am the one that is wronged.” Giovanni tried to reason. “Armando Mancini is no victim.”

“You are the one to react with emotion and without thought. Wronged or not, you are to never let our enemies see you humbled. So I intend to humble you before them. Give you a taste of the humiliation. In the future, no matter what is at stake, you remember the bitter taste of such defeat. And you will make the better choice.” His father leaned forward. “You are my flesh. My progeny. I am you and you are me. But if you ever strike another without my consent, I will not hesitate to strike back. Do you understand, Gio?”

“
Sí, Patri
,” Giovanni nodded.

“Take Dominic and go!” The Don commanded. Dominic rose with only one toy soldier in his hand. He came over to Giovanni and he took his hand.

“
Patri
, my friend Carlo is in trouble. He needs your help. He has been falsely accused of rape.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Don Tomosino said. “Leave!”

Giovanni did as asked. He walked out of his father’s office and closed the door.

“Gio? What is the matter?” Dominic asked.

“Nothing. Nothing is the matter,” he said and led him away.

“But what of Carlo?” Dominic asked.

“There is nothing I can do for him now. Someday when I do have control I will not be like
Patri
. We will be different, Domi.”

“
Sí
, Gio. You already are,” Dominic smiled.

May 1994 – Sorrento Italy

La Famiglia

The afternoon was nearly done. The heat from the day had caused the staff to open every window in Melanzana. Life in Sorrento was as pleasant as the tropics of Sicilia. Alone, on the second level of the 18,000 sq. ft. estate, Giovanni Battaglia sat behind his desk. A cool breeze blew in through the open shutter doors, and ruffled the papers he reviewed. He closed the ledger and reclined in his leather wingback chair. Outside of his veranda his children’s laughter beckoned. Since his return home he hadn’t seen his wife or
bambini
. He felt sour over the separation.

Giovanni stood. He walked around his desk. From the open doors of his office the sky was streaked in colors of red, orange, and purple. There were only two possible hours left to daylight.

Three weeks away from home exhausted him. The later part of the day he preferred his office in Melanzana than the one in Villa Rosso to make his calls. He missed breakfast. He had two glasses of wine for lunch. Dinner might be the same. And all that he craved for sustenance was a peek at his children, and a sweet kiss from his wife. Giovanni stopped to the end of balcony to lean against the iron banister. From his top-level view he could see his family.

“I can do it, Mommy!” Eve said. She pinched her nose and puffed her cheeks.

“Okay, sweetie. On the count of three.”

Mirabella, and their four year-old daughter Eve, were poised to jump from the edge of the pool into deeper waters. Marietta was with them. She too cheered the children from the sidelines. Giovanni frowned. Over the past two years he’d had to watch the sisters bond. He pretended at wanting this union, but deep down inside he resented it. Marietta had a connection with his Bella that rivaled his own. And he’d never be okay with having his wife’s loyalties split.

Marietta began counting: “One…two….”

Eve dove into the water first. Bella squealed and dove in after her. The two submerged in the crystal blue waves, then both began to swim to the surface, to the other end of the pool. Giovanni chuckled. He nearly clapped. His little girl was a champion. She kicked her feet and swiped her arms across the water with grace. Often he was excluded from playtime. He wished he could enjoy an evening poolside with his girls.

Mirabella emerged and stood in the shallow end. Eve pedaled in the water with floaters on each arm to the finish line. Mirabella clapped, as did everyone over Eve’s accomplishment. The twins were both at the edge of the pool with Cecilia. One splashed in the water while perched on the middle pool step. The other twin was in his caregiver’s arms.

“I won, Mommy! Did you see? Did you see me?”

“Yes, baby, you won.
Brava!
Cecilia, give me Gino,” Mirabella reached for her son. There once was a time when his sweet wife feared open bodies of water. She fought him at every turn when he offered to teach her to swim. After her near death experience while delivering his children, she began to appreciate the role of wife and mother. And also the responsibility. It was their job to protect their children—equally. Now she taught his
bambini
how to swim. The Donna was stronger.