“So I go to the coach, and I say, ‘Hey, what about my kid? Can’t you teach him how to run?’” Dad says, giving me a wide smile.
I give up and lean into the joke. He’s trying to tell me he loves me in the only way he can, by pointing out my faults. That’s something I realized not too long ago. When I was growing up, I thought there was no way I could please him. Now I understand that when he’s being the most critical, that’s also the time when he’s the proudest of me.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, raising my glass.
He looks at me strangely, as if he doesn’t quite realize what he’s doing. It’s probably the same way his father treated him. I don’t mind so much now that I understand. I glance over at Marlena, and I can see she gets it. She knows we share an unbreakable bond.
She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. Only Uncle Gio isn’t amused. He’s like my father in that he has a hard time expressing his affection. I know he cares. Sometimes he’s easier to talk to than my father. But they both grew up together in the same house, so they have some of the same hangups when it comes to communicating their actual feelings.
Hopefully, now that I know what it looks like, I can avoid that kind of thing when I become a father. If I ever become a dad. At the moment, I don’t have any prospects, and it doesn’t seem likely I’ll fall in love any time soon. My family is a lot to handle, and I wouldn’t want to introduce a woman to them without first explaining the family business.
“I haven’t even passed the bar yet,” I say.
“You will,” my father assures me.
I like his attitude. He doesn’t see anything as off-limits or outside of his control. Whatever he wants, he gets, and that’s a big difference between us. I saw Marlena first. It’s a littlestrange that she ended up marrying my father, since she’s really just a few years older than me. We’re more friends than we are stepmother and stepson, but we make it work.
This whole dinner thing could be awkward, but it feels comfortable. We’re all joking and drinking, having a good time, even though there’s a lot going on. I tell myself that I need to enjoy this, because who knows when life will slow down enough for us all to get together again.
The food arrives and we dig in. My father decides to tell one of his stories about his grandmother. “She had the perfect way of making pasta,” he says.
I’ve heard this story before, but I don’t interrupt him. You never interrupt my father, the Don, no matter what he’s talking about. We take a journey to the old country, where he compares the food he grew up eating with what’s being served today. There’s always something that’s not quite right, whether it’s the amount of salt or the ripeness of the tomatoes.
“I think it tastes good,” I say.
My father shrugs. “To each his own.”
Marlena gives me a smile, and I can tell that she’s not going to weigh in with her opinion. Uncle Gio pours himself another drink, and we finish the meal in silence. By the time we’re ready to leave the restaurant, I’m grateful for the chauffeur. Not only will we stay legal, but nobody has to concentrate on the road. It doesn’t go unnoticed by me that Marlena hasn’t been drinking, but I forget about it soon enough. I just feel lucky to have a family who cares about me, and grateful that my law school days are behind me. Now all I have to do is study my ass off and hopefully pass the test that will allow me to practice in acourtroom. If I can do that, then I can really offer something to the family beyond my good looks.
CHAPTER 2
SOFIA
“Danny?” I say, calling out to the empty room.
I just arrived home from college to celebrate my brother’s birthday. He’s turning twenty-five, so it’s a big deal. One quarter of a century. He’s practically old, and I can’t wait to give him a hard time.
I drop my keys into the little dish by the door. It’s green glass, something my mother picked up at a yard sale somewhere. I take my jacket off and hang it on a hook, dropping my backpack on the floor.
“Danny?” I repeat.
It’s the middle of the day, and both Mom and Dad are busy. They haven’t retired yet, even though they’re both counting down the days. Pretty soon there will be a big party for each of them, but they still have a lot to do at their respective jobs. Dad works for a phone company, and Mom is a librarian. I want to be a journalist and follow in Danny’s footsteps.
He works at a newspaper, a real one, not a local one either. He promised to get me a job, or at least an interview once Igraduate. I’m so excited about this project I’m working on. I can’t wait to tell him all about it. There’s a scandal happening in the wrestling team at my university. One student was caught using performance-enhancing drugs. I’m the one they brought in to write a story on it, and I’ve been collecting interviews for the past week.
I want to show Danny all the progress I’ve made, and I’m sure he’ll geek out about it with me even though it’s probably nothing close to what he’s reporting on. We’re so close, and I can’t imagine anything coming between us.
I think I smell something, but I’m not quite sure what it is. It’s pungent, and it infects the air with a coppery scent that sets my nerves on edge. I already know something’s wrong and I haven’t even stumbled on what’s causing the smell.
“Danny?” I call out, this time a little hesitantly. He could be out with some friends, but I have a sinking feeling that’s not the case.
I walk into the living room and find him lying on the couch. There’s a gun on the floor and blood soaks the white linen sofa. I can hear myself scream as I stagger toward him. I drop to my knees, cupping his face in my hands to bring him back to life.
His eyes are closed, and there’s a hole in his forehead. I can’t decide whether to cry or throw up. I want to hug him, but at the same time, I’m repulsed. I fumble in my pocket for my cell phone and call the police.
That’s when I wake.
My chest is damp with sweat. My heart is pounding, and my mind is racing. The dream is the same every night. It hardly deviates from the real memory. Sometimes I can see Danny’skiller slipping away into the kitchen, but when I try to follow him, he vanishes.
