She nods patiently, and takes a sip. “Uh huh. Basically it’s an ice tray sitting on top of an insulated bowl. The ice freezes from the top down, from the tray toward the bowl. There are holes in the bottom of the tray that let the ice push the water into the bowl, and before it freezes completely, I take it out of the freezer. The ice crystals shove the impurities down into the water underneath, so when I pry out the cubes, they’re crystal clear.”
“Nice.” I clang glasses with her.
We sip in silence for a moment, enjoying our drinks.
“How is she?” Rosa asks.
I shrug. “Same as earlier.” If a bit confused. Like me.
“Hasn’t eaten yet?” Rosa presses.
“Nope.”
She studies me a moment. “And how areyou?”
“I’ve seen better days,” I admit.
She shrugs, not pressing the matter. That’s what I always liked about my sister, she doesn’t pry.
“You know, you need to take your ice tray out of the fridge,” she says out of left field.
“Excuse me?” I ask her.
“Your ice tray,” she explains patiently. “You’ve grown this frigid exterior to inure yourself to the mafia world, so you can wear the mask of a proper gangster. So you’re ‘respected’ by the other families. But in the process you’ve forced the good deep down inside, so deep there’s a chance it’s going to freeze there forever. Take your tray out of the fridge before the good is gone permanently.”
I shake my head. “Rosa. You always did like your metaphors. But whether there’s any good left inside me is debatable.”
“I don’t believe that,” she says. “I see the way you treat me. Your brothers. You’re not all bad.”
“That’s because you’re family,” I tell her. “Family always comes first. Everything I’ve ever done, every crime I’ve ever committed, has been for you guys. You know that.”
“Has it?” she asks. “Look, all I’m saying is your heart doesn’t have to be stone anymore. Maybe try letting someone in once in a while. You might be surprised by what happens. Who knows, you might actually be happy someday.”
“If you’re talking about Angela, she hates me,” I tell her. “For what I’ve done. And I don’t blame her.”
“Does she?” Rosa presses. “You know, back in the day, when I used to see you and Angela together, before her father tried to kill you, I always thought you two made a cute couple.”
“We were different people then.” I gaze off into the distance. “I should have never went to her that night. Never snuck away with her. It set all of this in motion. For what? A kiss?”
“Sometimes a kiss can shake the world,” Rosa says.
I take a long sip of bourbon and exhale sadly. “I went to her earlier tonight to cut the cable ties I’d used to secure her, and she was sleeping. She looked so peaceful. All the trials and hardships of the day forgotten. A distant memory.”
I pause, studying the cloudy ice in my glass.
“It was like I was seeing her again for the first time,” I continue, “past the hate-filled cloud her father put in front of my eyes. I’d forgotten how beautiful she was. Forgotten what she meant to me. I wanted to pick her up and take her from all this. I wanted to run away with her, the same thing I wanted eight years ago. But then I remembered my responsibilities. I can’t just run away and abandon you all.”
Rosa is quiet for a moment. I could never confide in my other brothers like this. Only Rosa, because she wasn’t part of the business, and she’d never reveal my misgivings to my brothers.
“You could, you know,” Rosa finally says.
“What?” I ask her.
“Run away,” she tells me. “The two of you. Her father would never find out what happened. And the rest of us would never tell a soul. You could live your life alone, in peace.”
I look at her and feel a surge of anger. How dare she presume. “You forget I want my vengeance.”
“You didn’t sound so sure about that a moment ago,” Rosa says quietly. When I don’t answer, she adds: “It’s not too late to turn back. It’s never too late.”
