I completely forgot the keys after storming from the dining room. She pulls out two wooden chairs and positions them next to the hearth. Sitting in one, she reaches over to pat the other, while smiling sweetly.
“Come on. I won’t bite.”
Overcoming my urge to lock myself back in the cottage until the valley is green once more, I sit with the woman by the modest fire. “You know they love you… don’t you?”
I nod, though tight-lipped and ever stubborn.
“They never abandoned you. They had certain measures put in place, to ensure you were always taken care of.”
My face feels icy even though the fire dances not even a foot from the masonry. “I am already well aware of the bodyguard posing as my friend.”
The woman next to me chuckles and shakes her head, causing her brown curls to sway. “No child. Not her.” She regards me with a warm chestnut gaze and smiles. “Do you know who my boy is?”
I search her face, trying to recall who I may have forgotten, but I come up short.
“No, I’m sorry.” Her eyes squint causing the brown to become more golden. “Losing a child is something I wouldn’t even wish on my worst enemy… but your parents didn’t just lose one child… they lost you too.”
My face scrunches. Clearly, this woman sees me before her… right? She smooths out the material covering her legs.
“Not like that. They let you go. To protect you.”
No, they didn’t. They wanted to run away… forget Theo and the memories that Boston held here.
“I’ve known your parents a long time and I can tell you this much… every choice they made was for you both. Theo learned who he was long before your parents expected him to.”
Of course he found out. He’s always been keen at solving things.
“This life is dangerous, as you're well aware. They didn’t want that for either of you. In the beginning, they tried to evade danger while continuing their businesses, but their obligation to Cosa Nostra wasn’t going to damn their children.”
What is this lady going on about…? The woman around my mother’s age turns more toward me in her seat, the silver strands in her hair shimmer from the flames.
“Mr. Colby and I have worked by your parents' side for a long time. What seemed like a gift to your father was closer to a curse. Following the line of succession from grandparents to parents, it is the next generation that is expected to take charge. Charles and Terri wanted this to stop with them. They wanted you and Theo to pursue your own dreams, while they handle the rest.”
I stand from my chair causing it to rock. “Then why not just give it all to Nicholas? Then everyone would have been happy!”
She tilts her head upward to face me and reaches for my hand, still stained magenta from the cranberry sauce. Her warm hand gently squeezes mine. “Your nonna and nonno knew the kind of man their son was. It’s why they gave their legacy to Charles. It took your parents a little longer to come to terms with that. Although, they always suspected he was up to something behind their backs. Don’t blame your parents for just trying to do their best; it took a lot of people working together to bring justice. Even now, they would rather shoulder the burden than expect you to give up your dreams.”
My chin quakes, but somehow, I hold back. “Then why didn’t they help me? Why did they let me struggle, if they were trying to give me a better life?!”
A reserved smile creates deep curves in the older woman’s cheeks. “Oh, sweet girl, they weren’t withholding to watch you fail; they were allowing space to help you flourish.” Mrs. Colby squeezes my hand one last time and stands from her seat beside the fire.
I watch as she passes through the room, before she turns and speaks.
“When you return home, do tell Connor that his mother says to call more often.” She gives a forced smile before leaving the room.
I haven’t set eyes on another person since Thanksgiving. I refused to come out, especially when Christmas came around. My parents mailed me a letter, continuing to give me my much-needed space. It explained how they tried tosecure my futurewithout looming over me. Letting mefigure things out, yet still keeping an eye on me, from a distance. Connor was another player in the game. He was not only reporting on me to my parents, but also keeping an eye on the Murrays.
Despite ties being severed years ago, my mother still cared for Mary and her family. The letter describes how they felt it was their duty to protect the Murray children. However, they never knew about Dax. Even Andrea was unaware of the precaution. She was busy enough with her own assignments: protecting me and investigating Theo’s death. Honestly, all of these moving pieces were no less complicated than solving a dodecahedron-shaped puzzle, with twelve faces. How did mom and dad keep track of anything?!
It took me weeks to digest everything. I screamed. I cried. I slept… after the soul-stirring smoothie I was force fed, I felt nothing. Void of emotion. I was convinced my whole life was a simulation and I never was presented the choice of a red or blue pill. I tried to unplug from everything... I rewatchedThe Sopranosand even explored new crafting endeavors that I’ve never had time for in the past. First, I tried turning plastic bottles into wire stem flowers, with only a lighter and sheer determination. It proved to be a lot more challenging than I initially expected. After burning myself an unspeakable number of times; then, piercing my hands with eighteen-gauge wire, I was done.
With my extensive collection of embroidery thread, I decided to adorn every piece of clothing I had packed. Some displayed simple colorful edging or tiny emblems. Others had words or phrases. My favorite to date were the high-top Converse, which were embroidered with“Fuck You”in pink thread. Very therapeutic.
Reaching “Made in America,” the final episode ofThe Sopranos, I reflect on how Tony had declined as a whole despite all of his efforts. All the mobsters went round and round, pointing fingers, arguing about who is to blame for letting the war get out of hand… but the truth is, even the best-laid plans don’t go smoothly. When the screen goes black, it’s not the end… at least not for those who are still here. It’s a new beginning. Just not the one you hoped for.
I managed to burn a frozen apple pie. The house smelled like burnt sugar for days. More importantly, I didn’t get triggered when smoke bellowed from the oven. My growth may look different from others, but this charred dessert is proof that I’m trying.
Aside from Eamon's message, reassuring me that I should take all the time I need... all else was leftunread. I don’tthink I can go back to working there. Pretending like nothing happened… as if everything hasn’t changed. Dax sent me a text. I didn’t open that one either. In fact, after I compiled a playlist of my own… I shared the compilation and blocked his number. The music was potent enough to ensure he wouldn’t try to contact me again. I named the playlist,The Queen’s Collection. I included:Chevelle - “The Red”, Blink 182 - “Dammit,” White Town - “Your Woman,” Primitive Radio Gods - “Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand,” Our Lady Peace - “Superman’s Dead,”andNo Doubt - “Don’t Speak.”I know, I know! The last one was unnecessary and a week later, I felt like an asshole, but I was in a really bad place when I made it.
