1
Chiara
I’d always heard about other mafia families whose dinners were always an affair - music, guests, all of the family together, and enjoying each other’s company. Our dinners were the complete opposite. Silent. Distant. It was always just us girls, as the boys were usually off running errands and doing my father’s dirty work. All while he ate at the head of the table, eyeing each of us, making sure that we remained quiet.
My father, a man of few words, always dragged his fork along the fine china, as though it was worthless. I knew better than to copy him, as my mother always got angry at us after dinner. I made a habit of eating as quickly as I could to get away from the table. I hated the silence and the sound of people eating. I yearned to be back in my room with my art supplies, listening to music, and drawing. The sound of people chewing had become something of a trigger for me and I always avoided it when I could. There were even times when I’d storm out of a room the moment I heard someone eating too loudly.
There was a discernible tension at the table that day and my father repeatedly ran his hand through his dark brown hair—something he did only when he was stressed. There was a light film of sweat along his brow as he scraped his fork across the plate, trying to rip the mutton from the bone. I was always waiting for the screeching of the fork against the china, as though it was a timed event. I’d counted up to fifteen times in one night.
My mother had her eyes lowered. Her red dress tight across her body, giving away the fact that she was breathing quickly. I could almost feel her racing heart from where I sat. I shared a look with Alessandra, who was sitting across the table from me. Her face, a perfect mirror image of mine, shared the same expression—anxiousness. Our personalities couldn’t be more different, but we shared a lot of the same habits, like growing nervous in questionable situations. Our father had brought us around enough of them that we knew the telltale signs of my father being stressed. That was when we knew we’d have to be on guard as with it came the social anxiety that plagued us during difficult moments.
There had been a tension in the house all day that had followed us around like a ghost. My sister and I could only guess what my parents were planning. We’d come up with a few ideas, ranging from someone being injured, or a shipment not coming in, or being apprehended by the police.
My father, who was usually a calm man, spent most of the morning pacing in the kitchen and along the edge of the outdoor pool. He wasn’t someone who caved in to pressure easily, but his uneasiness throughout the day had impacted everyone. My sister and I hadn’t been able to figure it out, no matter how much we’d tried to compare ideas before dinner.
“There’s something I need to tell you all,” my father said finally, placing his napkin next to his plate. “It’s very important.”
My body stiffened. Alessandra was just as nervous. There was that dread that came from not knowing what was happening. News in our house, whether good or bad, was usually unpleasant. It didn’t matter whether my father considered it good news. Even if he did, both my sister and I would disagree silently with him. It usually meant that we’d killed off an enemy or taken someone hostage.
They were things we couldn’t relate to. We had morals that were different from my father, who was always trying to save face in the criminal underworld. His idea of a good day was being able to take out an enemy, or someone who owed our family. I considered it to be what it was—murder.
“There’s been a truce made between us and the Cavettis. I want you all to prepare for our guests,” he told us, his eyes sweeping over all of us at the table. “I expect you all to be welcoming. Not a goddamn word out of line. Got it?”
Both my sister and I nodded. I turned to my mother, who was as expressionless as ever. I’d always thought that one day she would open up and become a woman that wasn’t under the thumb of my father, but I’d given up on having a real mother years ago. She was too busy taking pills and drinking to notice that she even had children. Seeing her there as we were obviously worried, with a calm look that reminded me of a Buddha statue, I couldn’t help but resent her. It was in situations like that where we needed the support of our mother, but she’d never be the one to step up and take up that role.
“Are theyallcoming over?”
We all turned to Alessandra, who kept her eyes towards the plate in front of her. I brought my gaze to the chandelier above us, which emanated a soft, warm glow throughout the room. I could see parts of it shifting and clicking off each other, filling the heavy silence between all of us. It was difficult to determine whether we were ready for something like that. The truce hadn’t been made yet. That meant that they had nothing to lose.
“They are. The entire family,” he said sharply. “So I want you all to welcome them as though they’re old friends.”
Alessandra and I shared a look but kept our thoughts to ourselves. It was like inviting wolves into your home. It wasn’t our decision, but if we’d had a say, we would have told him it was a bad idea. The Cavetti’s were ruthless.
“Good. Now then, I would like to… ”
The interruption was on the part of our maid, who was an older Portuguese woman with graying hair. She was silent as she walked into the room and made her way towards my father, whose brow was furrowed. She leaned over my father’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, all while keeping her eyes averted from ours. I wanted to try to interpret her expression but, like my mother, she was always hard to read.
My father’s mouth parted in surprise. “Well, it’d seem our guests decided to arrive early. No matter. Get up, all of you. Let’s go.Andare.”
There’s no way we could saynoto him. A man like my father? He’d killed his first person when he was fifteen, and he’d beaten men so badly I could hear their screaming from the basement. I knew, as well as my sister, that denying him anything would only lead to us being punished. The last thing you’d want is to be punished. He often made his goons hit us fiercely if we didn’t agree with something he said. Most people had to prove themselves to him, all by obeying his every word.
I should have known that we were going to have guests the moment my father donned his pristine white suit. It was his favorite one, and he only wore it when he was going to a meeting with someone important. He pushed back his salt and pepper hair, which was beginning to thin at the front. It was curly but had lost some of its thickness over the years. My father was aging but was still as ruthless as ever.
I glanced around the table, watching as my sister and mother began to rise from their seats. I wondered, then, where my brothers were. They should have been there to welcome the guests, too. It shouldn’t have been just us women. My father rarely had guests—especially ones who had caused us so many issues in the past. They were dangerous. We needed my brothers there, if even just to set the rest of us at ease.
I pushed out my chair and placed my fork next to the plate. My stomach rumbled at the thought of eating the rest of the meal. I was savoring the mutton chops and roast potatoes. It was a meal I’d been looking forward to all day, ever since Marcos, our cook, told me he was making it. Dinner itself was usually a miserable affair, but at least the food was always delicious. Whenever he was going to make something he knew I’d like, he always let me know.
At least I had someone to tell me about things that were going to happen.
My father was already halfway out the door as my sister rounded the table towards me. She had always been more expressive, and her eyes gave away her thoughts. She was troubled by the new guests. I thought of Lucia, and what would become of her. Did she know? If a truce had been made, and the fighting was finished, where did that leave our sister?
She was the heir to my father’s dynasty. We all knew that when the moment came that she married, it would mean that the man she chose would take over from my father, with my two brothers at his side. I’d heard terrible things about Romeo Cavetti and I was having a difficult time picturing him as the head of my father’s criminal enterprise. He was said to be monstrous. Despite my sister having met him a few times, she’d remained silent about him, as though telling me and Alessandra about the man she might marry was too intrusive.
Or he was just that terrible.
My mother sauntered past us, not even looking in our direction. She seemed unfazed by the fact that Alessandra was uneasy. I, once again, wished our brothers were there. Fear of meeting the Cavetti’s would have eased. The Cavetti’s were known for their cruelty and ruthlessness. I didn’t want to face them without my brothers there. I’d heard horror stories about the things they did to the people that crossed them. Having the extra security would show them that we weren’t to be toyed with.
I saw her enter, descending down the staircase as my father stood in the parlor. He was on edge, shifting from one foot to the other. I watched as his hands formed in and out of fists. He brought his eyes to Lucia, who reflected his sense of pride, as she always did. She was, after all, the prized sister. Being the eldest she held the most influence and was more aware of things that were going on within the family. It always felt as though Alessandra and I were just ghosts looming in the background.
