Angelo’s words don’t sit well with me. I know the years are ticking by, but I still can’t think of my parents as old. Even though they both drive me crazy at times, I can’t imagine a world without them in it.
“I need some air.”
I quietly excuse myself from the table and slip into the back alleyway without anyone noticing. I’m leaning against the wall, scrolling through my social media and catching up on all the funny cat videos I’ve missed, when my father steps outside too.
We stare at each other for a minute and don’t speak.
The last words I uttered to my father before they took him away in handcuffs were not the most heartwarming.
In my defense, I was angry.
What girl wouldn’t be when her father’s about to be locked up for years because of a choice he made, fully knowing the consequences?
My father runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair and stares at the ground as he kicks some gravel. “Hey, baby girl. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” I tuck my phone into my back pocket and try to be cordial. “Why aren’t you inside with your guests?”
He finally brings his eyes to mine. “I wanted to check on you.” He ticks his head toward the door. “I saw you run out of there.”
“I just needed some air.”
“Want me to go?”
“No,” I say quickly.
“Still mad after all these years?” he asks.
“I don’t know what I am, Papa,” I answer honestly.
Part of me is happy that he’s okay and back under the same roof as my mother. But then there’s the other part that knows he’s just going to be up to his old tricks soon enough, possibly landing back in prison. Each time, he seems to stay out a little longer than before, which has never been easy for anyone, especially my mother.
“You guys have done really well with the bar,” he tells me, changing the subject.
“We’ve worked a lot of hours.”
He comes to stand in front of me. It’s my first real chance to get a good look at my father with the sun shining overhead.
My brothers get their good looks from my father. The rich olive skin, the piercing eyes, and strong Gallo features. My father’s DNA is definitely more dominant than my mother’s. I could’ve very easily had red hair and ivory skin instead of looking every bit the Italian princess.
“Don’t forget to enjoy life a little. It passes in the blink of an eye. One day you’re young, thinking you can rule the world, and the next thing you know… Bam!” He smacks his hands together, making me jump. “You’re praying you make it just one more day.”
This is a side of my father I haven’t seen before. He’s always taken life by the balls without a single care about the consequences. He’s never really discussed getting older, but maybe five years with nothing but time to think will do that to a person.
“What about you, Papa? Do you have another five years in you to spend behind bars?”
My father reaches out and places his hands on my shoulders, much like he did when I was a little girl. “Time is too precious, Daphne. I don’t want to spend another moment away from my family.”
“But?” I can feel there’s more to what he’s saying. There usually is when it comes to my father. He talks around things, always avoiding what he really wants to say.
“There’s no buts.”
There’s always a but with Santino Gallo.
“You’re giving up the life? Going straight?”
The small dimple on his right cheek deepens. “Something like that, kid.”
“You either are, or you aren’t.” I’m point-blank, unwilling to dance around my father’s statement.
