“Mom’s excited to see you,” Ricky started.
“Yeah. It’ll be nice to see her.” It wasn’t entirely the truth. I loved my mom, but ever since my dad went to prison, she stopped being the mother I knew. ?
??How’s she doing?”
Ricky shrugged. “You know mom. She’s a mess. Her latest buying habit is birds.”
I looked over at him with wide eyes. “Birds? Like living, winged creatures?”
Ricky nodded. “Yes. Stupid expensive. These really rare, exotic ones. She has a fucking toucan.”
My jaw dropped. “The Fruit Loops bird?”
“That’s exactly what I said!” Ricky laughed, and when his laugh faded, so did all joy in his face. “You know, she doesn’t know herself anymore. If she isn’t spending money, she doesn’t know what to do.”
I thought of my mother, who used to love to garden and sew and read. Even though my family had been supported by the Varassos for most of my life, she was a whole person before my dad met them. She had hobbies, interests, and even a dream of becoming a professional writer. When my dad started bringing in six figures, she slowly started to change into this trophy wife, and then when he went to prison, and she started getting the Varassos’ weekly anti-snitch stimulus checks, she turned into a woman who only knew how to be rich. Vila Moretti didn’t exist anymore, only the Varasso’s lap dog.
Ricky put a hand on my head. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have brought it up. I guess you’ll see for yourself.”
“No, thanks for the heads up. The fewer surprises I have during this trip, the better.”
“Then I guess I should also mention that Angelo died. Last year. A hit.”
I nodded. I wasn’t a monster, even if my trust in almost anyone was paper-thin. I kept tabs on the people who took care of my mother and brother, if for no reason other than to make sure my own family was safe. “Yeah, I heard. I suppose the boys are probably pretty upset with me. I didn’t reach out to any of them to pay my respects. I thought about sending flowers to the funeral, but I figured it was best to stay gone.”
Ricky shook his head. “I haven’t heard, but I know Sandro has already mentioned he wants to see you. He’ll be at the funeral.”
I let out a moan of disappointment. I was hoping that wasn’t the case. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Pop Pop loved Sandro like his own kid, and that’s not on me. You were the one who brought him over all the time, telling Pop Pop that Sandro was the man that was going to take care of you.”
Point taken and fault accepted. “Still.”
“He wouldn’t miss it for the world, even if he wasn’t looking for an opportunity to see you.”
My heart did a backflip at the thought. Deep down, I wanted to see him too, but I wouldn’t allow myself to fall back into him again. He made his choice—when I said we were done, I meant it. “Well, you can tell him not to expect much. He turned his back on me the day I left for college, so I turned my back on him. I’ll be cordial because this is about Pop Pop and not me or Alessandro, but I don’t have anything to say to him. Not him or the rest of his underhanded family.”
2
Alessandro
Sometimes, when I stood in my dad’s old office, staring out at the huge, verdant green yard, I liked to pretend that he was going to walk through the double cherrywood doors, his square jaw, curly brown hair, and deep brown eyes an elder depiction of my own. I’d stand at attention and greet him as sir, and then we would both chuckle at the formality of it all. I fiddled with the rings on my fingers, the ones he’d left me in his will, trying to imagine what he’d say if he saw them barely hanging on to my much more slender fingers compared to the sausages he had.
“At least if you’re gonna wear ‘em, make sure they fit. Only my bonehead kid would walk around with rings that don’t fucking fit.”
I chuckled at his phantom voice ringing through my head. “Got it, Pa. I’ll grow into ‘em.”
“You gonna go see Willow with rings falling off your fingers? She’ll take one look at you and laugh her ass off.”
I nodded. “I know, Pa. I’m good.”
Willow. My eyes landed on the stone fountain in the middle of the courtyard below, the one my dad had erected in the image of my mom as an angel. It was the last place I’d looked into Willow’s beautiful, blue eyes. I had no idea when she asked me to meet that day that she was going to tell me she was leaving for California, and I either had to leave my family behind and go with her or lose her for good. I loved her more than myself. Why couldn’t that have been enough?
“You thinking about Dad or Willow?” Luca’s voice sliced into my thoughts.
I snickered. “Yeah.” I turned around to face him. “You’re late.”
Luca waved his hand through the air and then situated himself behind my dad’s—I suppose now his—large marble-topped mahogany desk. “Whatever. What have you got going on?”