“Are you afraid of me now,il mio sole?” he asks again, softer.
“No,” I answer honestly. “But I’m…wondering why I haven’t questioned it before now. Wondering what you actually do, and what you are instead of a powerful, successful businessman. I feel foolish…naïve and stupid.” The last words come out as a whisper.
His hands shift to my waist, and he turns me, letting me see him now. I straddle him, but the position isn’t sexual. He keeps one hand on my hip and the other cradles my nape, his thumbsdrawing circles in both spots. “You’re not any of those things, Gina.”
I bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears that want to push forward. “I knew, then? Before I lost my memories?” He nods, and I ask, “Who are you, Tommaso?”
“Iama powerful, successful businessman. I haven’t lied to you about that or any of the businesses I run.”
“But?”
His tongue runs over his lip as he regards me. “But I’m…more than that.” His expression is open, yet I can’t read him. “My family is a mafia family.”
The air suspends in my lungs for a moment as I process his revelation. I wait, but fear and panic don’t press in. “I knew this,” I confirm rather than question.
He nods. “We’re part of the ‘Ndrangheta, and my family’s main territory is back in Italy. I came here a decade ago to take over this territory when myziodied.”
“And you’re the Don?” I ask, but I’m still not panicking.
“In a way, yes.” When he sees my confusion, he continues, “My father, Stefano, is the head of our family, and even though I’m in charge of all the territory here in California, and all the people here answer to me, ultimately, my father still has control at the moment.”
A shiver courses through me. “At the moment?”
“Yes.”
“Are you at war? Is that why you won’t let me go anywhere or have anyone here?”
He glances away before looking back at me. “We’re not technically at war… But yes, I’m avoiding having you exposed to any risk.”
“Was my head injury because of… Were we attacked right after our first wedding?”
Neither Tommaso nor the doctors have discussed with me the actual circumstances of my injury, or what ‘my accident’ actually entailed. Up to this point, I haven’t pushed it because whenever I tried to remember, that nausea and phantom throbbing pain would appear, and alarm bells would clang in my head, warning me that I don’t want to remember.
I start to shake as that nausea and throbbing pain make an appearance now, like it’s a perfectly choreographed dance.
“Gina?” Tommaso sounds far away even though I straddle his lap.
“Babbo, no,” I cry, watching something horrifying. I can’t make out what it is, though. My head and face are filled with pain. “I’ll do it! I’ll do it. Just please stop!”
“Gina!” Tommaso’s shout shatters the memory, and I’m back in the ensuite with him.
Tears coat my face, and I shake uncontrollably. The pain of my past injuries is excruciating, and the nausea is overwhelming. I try to get off Tommaso, knowing that I’m going to be sick.
He lifts me out of the water and gets me to the toilet in time as I expel the contents of our dinner. I’m crying as I do, not able to stop, feeling like I need to purge a sadness I can’t understand or remember.
I’m still crying once I finish retching. Tommaso cleans me up, rinses my mouth out with mouthwash, dries us both off, and then bundles me in his arms to lie with me in our bed.
He holds me as the last of my tears finally subsides, my face cradled against his chest.
“I’m having flashes of memory…” I pause because my throat closes. Pain and confusion overwhelm me. “I’m certain they’re of my father… I called himBabbowhen I was a little girl. But…”
Tommaso’s hand runs up and down my back while his other is buried in my hair, keeping me pressed close to him.
“But I think he did something…something that doesn’t fit. It’s like he was two men. One, horrendous. And the other is what the little girl in me desperately wants and needs him to be.” I sniffle, trying to get closer to Tommaso.
“Your memories of him…Babbo… If they bring you comfort and peace, then hold onto those, Gina.”
I pull back to look at him. “But he wasn’t that man anymore, was he? He wasn’t myBabboanymore.”
