Slowly, Lorenzo nodded. “I’m sorry, Remo,” he said, his red-rimmed eyes trying in vain to hide his tears. “She’s going to call for you just now and there’s nothing I can do to stop her.” He knelt in front of me and gripped my arms as my tears spilled. Shaking his head, he tried to wipe them. “You need to remember that in our house, emotion is a monster that brings wrath upon its offender. You have to suck it in, especially in front of her. Okay?”
I nodded, swiping my cheeks. “She’s sending you to the hole?” It was a room in the basement where my evil mother punished us with no light, food or water. I hated it.
“Yes,” he muttered. “I need you to be strong, Remo. For Mateo, for me and for you, no matter what happens. Can you do that?”
My eyes watered again and I sucked it in with a tearless sob. My brothers needed me. I had to be strong, for us. “Yes.”
“It’s just you and me against the world,Fratello. Keep Mateo here and always remember his love for us.” He touched my chest where my heart lay. “You’re my only family now and I’ll protect you with my life.” With a sad smile, he ruffled my hair. “La famiglia prima della vita.” Family before life. “It’s my promise to you.”
“La famiglia prima della vita,” I repeated, my throat hurting with the need to cry.
He nodded, rising. “Conquisteremo.” We will conquer.
Another gentle squeeze to my arms before he walked away. I watched until he disappeared down the stairs then drew in a deep breath and entered Mateo’s room, my feet only pausing when I reached the open bathroom door.
Red.
The floor. The bathtub. The water. It was the only color I saw. The only color I felt running through my veins, the urge to scratch at the annoying prickle under my skin, growing with each breath. My gaze shifted, taking in the pale skin and dark matted hair. Every instinct in me wanted to scream. To cry out for my dead brother.
“Come here, boy,” Mother called out, her tone sharp. Feet heavy, I moved closer. “This.” She pointed at Mateo. “This is what a spineless man looks like, Remo,” she sneered. “This is not the son of a respected donna. This is a man unworthy of the Rossi name.”
No, he’s not! He’s my brother!
I bit my tongue to keep my words to myself.
“The carvery, now,” she instructed tersely. Confused, I stared at her. “We’ll carve our name out of his skin,” she hissed, her expression pure disgust. “And you my boy, will do it for me.”
My eyes almost popped out of their sockets. I knew exactly what she meant. As the son of a well-respected donna, you saw and heard things you wouldn’t find in a normal home and despite my curiosity that sometimes annoyed my brothers, I was never allowed to enter the carvery. The few times I hid under their beds or in the mansion corridors to eavesdrop, I’d heard bits and pieces of the gruesome things that happened there. Blood and gore mostly. Instead of being scared I became fascinated, waiting for the day I could enter.
But this wasn’t how I expected to. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head.
“Today, you become a Made man, Remo!” she roared, glaring daggers through me. “Sfidami e Lorenzo ne pagherà il prezzo,” she warned Lorenzo would pay the price for my defiance, once again using my love for my brothers against me.
I felt sick, my stomach rolling. The intrigue I once desired to visit the carvery, now something I’d regret. But I just lost one brother; I couldn’t lose another. “Mother, please,” I begged.
“Go!” She ignored my plea.
Mother’s father was a terror by name alone and so was my father, during their time of reign. Mother, however, was evil cast in skin and bones. She feared no one, not even God. Her indifference knew no bounds, not even to her children.
Feet dragging, I headed out the room and down the stairs. This time the tears fell. Not because I was weak but because I knew I’d never save my brother from hell, never lay him down in a coffin to rest in peace, never give him the funeral he deserved. Like Lorenzo often said, our mother could take a man’s soul with her look alone.
This time though, I was her sword of reckoning and I was about to send my brother’s soul into obscurity.
Outside, I crossed the courtyard filled with a dozen men and stopped only when I reached the dark double doors of purgatory. Staring at them for a moment, my chest ached, my silent screams for Lorenzo falling on deaf ears before I heard someone come up behind me.
“What are you doing here, boy?”
I turned to face Frank Scaglione, my mother’s brother. He was hardcore when the moment necessitated but with me, he was always smiling, friendly and never hesitated to answer my questions, no matter how stupid they sounded. Because my father was usually busy, Frank became like a second father to us and taught my brothers everything about the mafia world.
Sometimes, he called me the apple of my mother’s eye and while my brothers scoffed at the sentiment, I wished they knew to what extent, wished they could see beyond my silence but when you’re warned against retaliation, you learn to protect the closest thing to your heart.
My brothers.
Today though, I hated what her favoritism meant, even more. A rip between brothers I’d never be able to heal.
“Mother,” I said quietly.
It was the only answer I needed, and I saw the moment understanding filled Frank’s eyes. His smile soft, he crouched in front of me and gently wiped the tears from my cheeks.
