Guido said that Brando gave him orders to, knowing that being too far from him would cause me unnecessary worry. I wondered if the same could be said for him.
The next morning, dawn rose bright, but the day was still bitter with cold. Guido and I helped Brando walk Mitch to the car, but before leaving, he stopped.
“A sign,” Mitch said. “I just need a sign.” His eyes continued to water; it seemed like he had no power to stop it.
Nothing happened. The birds were calling to one another, rejoicing in the new day and in the fact that if they flew higher, the sun would be closer and warmer.
Resigned, Mitch shook his head and we started to move again. Just as we came to the car, a bird flew high overhead, a circling black shadow in the glare of the sun.
I took a step back, trying not to grin.
Brando’s mouth twitched. Guido shook his head, saying, “InItaliathat is a good sign.”
The bird flying above had crapped on Mitch’s head.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Scarlett
I knew what came next, though knowledge didn’t help matters. Just because I knew didn’t mean I could stop, or even prepare for the onslaught.
Two weeks later, we all had slipped into our own escapes. The funeral was the beginning of a long journey. We each had places we needed to be, but the maps were set in code and the destinations were unknown.
There was no chance that any of us were getting out of this unchanged.
Uncle Tito liked to compare the journey of a woman to the life of afarfalla, a butterfly, and how the metamorphosis of the butterfly resembled the changes she went through to achieve her best self, the struggles it takes to become beautiful on the inside before it reaches the outside.
At this point in our lives, I believed that all of us should be compared to the metamorphosis of butterflies, and at the end, our colors should be the most gorgeous of all.
No one was immune to the pain. Mick’s death hovered over our houses, seeped into the walls, and touched us all in different ways.
Mitch left town. Brando received texts from him every so often claiming that he was fine. Just that.Fine.
Violet withdrew into herself.
At first, she had clung to her children. I hadn’t gone to her the night Mick had been buried because her mother had told me she was surrounded by her children. They had all slept together, huddled close for warmth and support, trying to come together to replace the man they had lost. The two older boys seemed to become men overnight, becoming fiercely protective of their mother and younger siblings.
But with each passing day since, Violet had retreated. I wondered if her mind lingered on the past, on the first day she had met Mick, and stayed there. To find comfort in the memories and to torture herself with what could’ve been different—how she could have created a different ending to the story.
No one wanted her to go alone to see about Mick’s estate, but she insisted.
His estate. He was so young to have anestateto see about, but it only reinforced that something was going on. Something she was keeping from me, but I couldn’t seem to grasp it and pull it into the light.
Mary growled, forcing a smile on my face. The kids, when not with Violet, had been spending a lot of time with us.
Peter smiled next to me, helping me with the dishes. Mary and I had baked a batch of Superwoman cupcakes, decorated with red icing and neon yellow trimming.
“Can I have one now?” She made azoomnoise, running around in circles, her cape fanning out. “Maybe BRANDPOW will want one, too!”
“And Paul,” I said. “Go outside and tell them your work is done, baby girl.” I held one out to her. Her eyes grew wide and she made a scratchy noise in her throat, licking her lips, her fingers making agive me, give megesture before she took it.
“What do you say, Mary?” Peter give her a narrow look, so startlingly like Mick that I had to take a deep breath to ease the sorrow.
“Thank you, Auntie Scarlett!”
Before I could respond, she zoomed outside. Through the glass window, I watched as Peter followed her outside—something he wouldn’t have done before. He had become fiercely protective, almost to the point of it being unhealthy. Whereas Paul followed Brando around like a shadow.
A few minutes later, the entire group came back in, Mary handing out the sweets. For her age, she was undersized and not as mature as some of the other kids, most of whom refused to play with her. Then again, for what she lacked, she made up with in roughness, all in thanks to having two older brothers.
