How fucking unfair life was.
The car stopped, and at first, I thought we were there. My stomach rolled up, and I had to fling the door open before I spilled the contents of my stomach all over my husband and the car. I didn’t think he’d mind, but I refused to have another thing to feel sorry for. It was nothing but tea from that morning and a tiny piece of toast, but it made me feel emptier than I had before.
Matteo held me by the shoulders so that I didn’t fall out of the armored SUV, and when I was done, he pulled me back in like a rag doll. I just didn’t have the energy to do it myself. He studied my face like I might disappear on him, then ran a warm hand over my head.
He snapped at Placido, who was in the front seat, and a second later, Placido handed him a mini bottle of mouthwashthat had been stashed in the glove compartment. Matteo set it to my lips and told me to swish. I did, and then he opened the door so I could spit it out. It made me feel better, and relief swept over me like a cool wind when I realized we were at a flower shop.
When Armando walked out with a beautiful bouquet of forget-me-nots, tears ran down my face. I had no control over them lately. I squeezed my husband’s hand as hard as I could, though, to let him know how much I appreciated his thoughtfulness.
A few minutes later, the caravan that was the Fausti security was rolling to a stop in front of a small house I recognized from my childhood. All the reminders were making me sick, but on the other hand, they were comforting me at the same time.
My mom was gone, but all these places had connections to her.
I almost wanted to turn to her and say, “I’m back! Can you believe it?” But when I turned, the seat next to me was empty. Matteo had gone to the door himself to speak to Big Joe, mom’s boss at the strip club.Armando kept watch from the driver’s seat, and Placido was next to him in the shotgun seat. The door to the house opened, and Matteo shook Big Joe’s hand. The man was a much older version of who he used to be, though his meatiness was still the same. So was the big medallion of some saint and gold chain he wore around his neck. A towel was wrapped around his neck to absorb sweat. His curious eyes took in the scene down his residential neighborhood street, and when they landed on the car I was in, it seemed like he was trying to pierce through the tinted window with his stare.
Matteo said something to him, shaking his head. Big Joe ran a gnarled hand down his face and shook his head. The two men spoke for another few minutes before Matteo nodded and turned toward the car. I wasn’t sure what it was, but the look in my husband’s eyes had changed. It was a subtle shift, but afterspending so much time alone with him lately, it was like I knew him even better. And something told me whatever Big Joe had told him had him in thinking mode.
After Matteo returned to the car and slid in next to me, I turned to him.
He shrugged. “Interesting man.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but the car started to move, and Matteo gave Armando directions in Italian. It only took a few minutes to get there, but we took the long drive past the silent city, all of us just as silent. It was such a peaceful place. Oaks lined the drive, and the moss hanging from them drifted in the subtle breeze. The cemetery was boxed in by numerous trees. The lawn was green. And…magnolias were everywhere.
Armando came to the softest stop, but the car might as well have flipped over. The emotions in me were violent enough to make me shake.
“Baby,” Matteo whispered, taking my hand, bringing it to his mouth. When I didn’t answer, he gave Armando an order in sharp Italian, but I lifted a trembling hand.
“No,” I barely got out. “I have to do this. It’s the right thing to do. Then…I want to go home. Will you take me home?”
His eyes stilled on my face, but I had a feeling that, beneath the surface, the waters inside of him were storming. He couldn’t take this from me, and he couldn’t control it. My emotional state was outside of his boundaries, no matter how hard he tried to get in. This was something I had to feel. This was something I had to do to honor my mom.
“I’d get on my knees and crawl if I couldn’t find a faster way to bring you home.”
“Don’t lose me, Matteo,” I whispered, squeezing his hand, setting my other on the door handle.
“You are me,” he said, setting me on his lap, kissing me softly on the neck, and then opening the door, bringing us both out into the glaring light of the day.
A tepid breeze brought the smell of magnolias, moss, and death. I took a shuddering breath but asked Matteo to set me on my feet. He put me down gently, and hand in hand, we walked toward the marker together. He held the bouquet of forget-me-nots.
Some of the graves were tombs, and very fancy, but the one we were getting closer and closer to was so plain and down in the earth. No protection from storms to stop my mom from being disturbed and brought back up.
The thought made my head spin, and Matteo held onto me even tighter, like he felt my blood draining away from me and was going to stop it by pressing his body against mine. When we were finally in front of it, I stared down at it for a second before I let all my energy set me free. Matteo caught me before I fell to the ground, and I cried in his arms, wailing at how unfair this was.
“Come, baby,” Matteo whispered against my temple. “We will go home.”
“No,” I barely got out through sobs. “I want to stay for a while.”
He nodded but held me closer, bringing us both down to the ground. I heard him whisper, “Wherever you command me to go, I will go.”
After a few minutes, another cool wind barely touching my overheated face, I took the flowers from him and set them in front of the stone that held my mom’s name, date of birth and death, and underneath…loving mother.
The honk of a horn made Matteo turn and look, but I kept rubbing the inscription,loving mother. But after a minute, I turned to look too, because something was going on. An ancientcar, paint gone from numerous spots, had pulled down the drive and stopped in the middle of it. An older woman with a scarf tied around her head was talking to the men. Her arms were gesticulating toward where we were.
I felt Matteo nod, and then I turned back to the grave. I didn’t hear anything until the sound of summer grass underfoot became loud. I whirled in Matteo’s arms at the sound, ready to tell whoever it was to go back to where they’d come from.
It was that woman from the car.
Matteo stood, bringing me with him, and then set me next to him, his arm wrapped around me protectively.
