The reddened hue that Eamon’s face once held is now void of color. Mairead is still putting two and two together, while I’m on the verge of vomiting into the closet garbage pail. She raises her hand to ask a question, like we're in some kind of impromptu lecture. Mairead speaks out regardless, “did mom have an affair with the lasagna accountant?”
Andrea smacks her forehead, “No you beautiful idiot. Nicholas raped your mother before she wed your father. I’ve spoken with your aunt, Moyra.”
Everything seems to move in slow-motion. Mairead’s forehead scrunches. Her eyebrows furrow. Then next thing I know, she’s hurtling toward my disgracefulfamily member. Knife in hand, she drives the rainbowed blade into Nicholas’ thigh. It happens faster than anyone could have seen coming.
A blood curdling scream fills the space, followed by a string of profanities in Italian. Eamon intervenes just as she removes the blade and aimed toward my uncle’s crotch. Taking her by the elbow, he walks his sister over to the couch to sit.
Dax brings his head as far forward as possible before throwing it back into his father with such force that I would have thought at least one of them would black out.
“Figlio di puttana! Fuck all of you!” Finally… something I agree with. Nicholas Lombardi looks deranged. Bruised and bloodied, with his hair pointing in every which direction, his wild eyes find me. “None of this is yours! My father, the stronzo, gave it all to Charles. That bastardo of a brother! Not even a true-blooded Lombardi! It was supposed to be mine! This city belongs to me!” His face is a canvas of indigo and burgundy,while a bulging vein snakes up his neck as he continues to scream, about what he believes he’s owed. He’s no uncle of mine.
“He gave everything to me for a reason, brother.” Like a scene from a movie, my father enters the room.
No matter how old I get he’s my safe space. I push from the wall and run to him. His arms welcome me in his warm embrace, just like he did when I was a little girl. “Hey Cinnabun. I’m so sorry you had to learn everything this way, kiddo.” I glance up at the man who raised me, just as tears began to fall without my permission.
“We kept you in the dark to keep you safe.” My mother appears. Joining his side, in a room too full of ugly truths for one day.
Against my better judgement, I turn from my parents and approach the rotten man I once confided in. I had one more burning question. No one dares to stop me. “Are you responsible for what happened to me as a child? Thegas leakthat stole my ability to hear?!”
Dax’s head hangs low; he doesn’t even try to regard me. My heartbeat thunders louder than any ringing in my ears, and I wonder if anyone but me can hear it. The man who was supposed to have ourbest interests in mind… protect us… love us. The only family I had left in the city. Now I see him for what he is… a callous, bitter man, driven by greed.
The thinning skin on his jaw moves from side to side, as if grinding his teeth. Seconds, minutes drag on as I wait for an answer. His Adam’s apple bobs, before delivering a clear-cut, “Yes.”
My hellish nightmare. The day I’m brought back to every time I close my eyes, was it intentional? Liars. Con artists! Every single one of them! It sounds like blaring sirens in my brain. Tears cascade down my cheeks. I glance at Dax, one last time. He can’t even look at me. In spite of the fact that everyone inthis room has disregarded me at one point or another, they stare. As if I decide the next course of action. I need to get away from them. Desperate to free myself of any responsibility to this. Fuck them. They can do whatever they want... with BOTH of them. I need to be anywhere but here.
I move toward the door, causing Andrea to step aside with a rubber squeak. My eyes shoot down to her feet. “Keep the stupid rain boots.”
Yanking the earbud from my ear, I let it roll from my hand and onto the floor. Leaving the room without looking back. My ears roar as I move down the hall, past a distraught Patrick Murray. I don’t bother stopping. Pushing past the heavy steel door, I’m met with drops of icy water against my skin. The air around me seems to freeze as I look up toward the gray sky. Without warning, the ringing in my head dies off. Stillness. Dampen in solitude, I knew where I was heading next.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR
CINDEL
Two months later…
For weeks, the ground has been blanketed in snow. What was once a colorful valley of trees is now barren. The only signs of life are the birds and squirrels, with the occasional deer passing through. Floorboards flex with each step I take. I’m almost confident I’m alone.
Last time I stayed here, I questioned my own sanity. Locking each door, drawing the drapes, and checking the tree line for movement. Now I allow the reflective glow to pour from the cottage and onto the still grounds. No longer do I hold misgivings for the shadows. There’s no room for that. I’ve accepted the hole in my heart as my own. This is what I need... time.
My parents were overjoyed when I agreed to accompany them back to New York. Straight away, they volunteered to move out fromtheirplace and into one of the more spacious homes, nearby. Turns out that they weren’t glorified house-sitters after all, but own multiple properties in the Catskills. If that wasn’tenough of a shock, they gifted me the entire storybook house I stayed in last time I was here, watching Kingston.
“Cinna… it’s Thanksgiving,” my father says.
I push the plate away from me at the giant table surrounded by family andfriendsI barely even knew. Why the fuck would they invite the Colbys over, if they knew I wasn’t even up for this?
“They’re our guests, Cindel. Don’t be rude,” Mother chastises.
I lean back in my seat at the table filled with glass flutes, polished cutlery, and more food than necessary, wondering why I am the one being told to practice modesty. How incredulous of them.
“I don’t see the point. Why bother with appearances? Everything else has gone to shit. Let’s take off our shoes… hell, let's eat with our hands!” I scoop up a fist full of cranberry sauce, lick it from my hand, and then rubbed the residue across my chest with David Bowie’s face. Well… it used to be my favorite shirt. Now it just reminds me of the boathouse… of him.
I think I’ll burn it in the fireplace tonight. For once in my life, my mother’s rendered speechless, while my father can’t even look at me. Everyone has stopped eating.
“Don’t let me keep you from enjoying your holiday.” Without so much as a goodbye, I leave the table and make my way through the second kitchen, toward the door which exited to the attached parking area. Just as I reach for the door, a metallic thud sounds behind me; I spin around to find Mrs. Colby.
“I figured you needed these.” She glances down at the ring of keys she just dropped onto the butcher block.
