Before Justin could get another word out, Luca hit him so hard that he seemed to fly across the room. Luca’s breaths were coming out of his nose. I hadn’t realized how cold the air was until I saw it. The pigs were squealing behind me, almost covering the noises from Luca’s fist meeting Justin’s face and body.
I heard every crack of bone, every smash, and felt as the warm droplets splashed across my face. Luca’s shirt was no longer white but almost black. I narrowed my eyes at the two figures—the monster killing the man.
A low whine came from somewhere near by. A second later I realized it was coming from Justin.
One last hit, and besides the pigs, everything went silent. Justin lay on the ground, his neck turned at a weird angle. Nothing about his face seemed right. He was looking at me but without eyes. Just holes.
Luca stepped over him, leaving me alone with dead Justin. Luca went to speak to the Italians by the door. He gave them Justin’s wife’s name and told them to take care of it—to make sure they had enough money. They started to argue right after, something about taking me to Marzio. Luca refused. Then he told them to clean up the mess. He didn’t want to hear another word about the “situation.” He’d take care of it.
Before he met me, Luca went to his coat and took out a handkerchief, wiping his face and hands. Then he did the same to mine.
He stared at me a moment. “You will have to wash before your mother sees you,”he said in Italian.
I nodded once.“Sì,papà.”
He touched my chin. “You are a man today.”
I nodded again, repeating the same words. “Sì,papà.”The less words I used, the better. He was funny about them, and not in theha haway. If I didn’t mind my tongue and my tone, he’d make me fly across the room too. I wasn’t scared. I knew my place and my responsibilities. From the moment words made sense to me, I was ordered to listen and not respond—I was sure Luca was too, if what Ma said was true.
“The other act that will make you a man will come in time, my son,” he said and then grinned. It seemed like he would crack from the amount of blood still on his face. “You will understand then why I have done this today. In honor of a woman. Mine.” He touched his heart.
We stared at each other for however long, while the Italians waited by the door.
Luca chucked his chin toward the pigs.“Chose one to save.”
I turned around, for the first time in a while noticing how loud they were. My heart was beating fast, almost too fast. I pointed to the pig in the corner, trembling from fear. It was too afraid to even run around with the rest of them. These must have been the pigs first on the butcher’s block in the morning.
“That one there, Father,”I said in Italian.
“You are absolved of any guilt the coward put on you now. A pig’s life for a pig’s life.”
He motioned for the Italians to come in. One of my uncles stared at me with narrowed eyes until he ordered another man to get the pig. He told him to deliver themaialeto the daughter of the coward. The animal would come with a substantial amount of money, if the family agreed to take care of it.
Luca removed his shirt, swapping it out for another, slipping on his jacket after. Then he called for me tocome. It was time to go home.
* * *
Ma was in her room when we got back, so I did as Luca said and took a shower. Blood swirled in the white tub before it disappeared down the drain. Even over the sound of water I could hear them shouting in her room. Well, she was shouting, he was saying things at his normal level in Sicilian. He was trying to talk her into something, but she wasn’t having it. I wondered if she’d pull a knife on him—she had before. He always grinned behind her back. He liked it when she threw a fit. Then the conversation turned to something else.
I will not be your whore!
A little while later, other noises came from the room.Oooh. Ahhh. Yes. Yes. Please. Grunts. Growling.I rolled my eyes and put my head against the tiles, waiting for it to be over. It took a while. By the time I got out, the water had turned cold and my hands and feet looked blue.
Luca was gone when I met Ma in the hall.
She still looked drunk. When she saw me, she took me by the shoulders and squeezed, her nails sinking into my skin. “You are just like him,” she said in Sicilian. “Just like him! But you don’t have to be all him. When you fall in love, you don’t have to be cruel too. That’s what makes me love and hate him. I love him so much that I can’t stand the thought of being without him or you! But I hate him so much that I could…kill him! You can show compassion without being weak. Or else…” Her eyes moved back and forth, like she was searching my eyes for something. “It might come back to haunt you. It will haunt him one day. There will be no light left in his eyes. None! If he takes you to those people…they will kill it, the little compassion you have. They will murder the last shred of me in you. Protect it, even if it means sharing it with one person. The girl you’ll claim as yours. That family, they all do that, claim, like women are gold to be owned.
“Show your love compassion. She won’t see you as weak, only stronger for it. Guard it with your heart, even an ounce of it. Then give it to her. If she’s good, she’ll never give it back, no matter how hard you fight her for it. Or how many times you make her want to kill you! Love is madness. As he says, a religious experience that will bring you closer to heaven, and at the same time, you’ll battle hell for it. She’ll protect your compassion within her heart. Women are strong like that. Remember this too, his son. You don’t have to carve her heart out to own it. After you win her love, she’ll do it for you, offering it up. There’s nothing as special as a woman who willingly bleeds for the man she loves, even knowing his darkest sins.”
She released me, going back to her room. A couple of minutes later, she came back out and told me she would be home later.
A minute after she shut the door, the electricity went off.
His empty eyes were staring at me in the darkness, his last words going around and around in my head—maybe not you or him, but his kid! His kid will pay the price for what you’re doing to me!
I sighed, long and hard, and decided to go sit out on the curb, in the cold, the streetlight brightening the shadows the darkness made. I sat there, doing nothing, thinking nothing, until a car pulled up a while later. Pnina. Elliott got out of the car with her. I didn’t want to leave. Then a kid knocked on the window—she was dressed in frilly clothes. Elliott’s little sister, the ballerina girl. It didn’t seem like she wanted to be alone. It looked like she was crying. Pnina said that she had come to take me home again. So I went.
* * *
