After that, he strolls over to the corner of my office where the canvas and easel are, studying my first attempt at painting in fourteen years. “Nonna always loved to paint. I’ll bet she never expected one of her son's sons to take it up though.”
“I expect not.”
"Are you going to cut off the rest of your ear, Vincent?" He pokes my earlobe with its missing piece.
"No, but I could cut off yours for you."
He chuckles, knowing I won't. “It’s not half bad.”
“It’s not half good either, but I don’t sleep well, and it gives me something to occupy my mind late at night,” I admit. It makes me feel closer to Matilde during our separation, too. I wonder what she’ll think of it when she sees it.
Glancing at my watch, I bid my brother good night. It's nearly time for my favorite part of the day.
“Bona sira, cara mui,"I greet her when she answers. I can hear her smile through the phone when she praises my pronunciation. My Sicilian is as meager as my painting skills are rusty, but my wife is always encouraging.
"Nico, I'm sorry but the babies fell asleep early. There is a new lamb, and they would not nap today…"
Her domestic worries and bewitching voice wash over me, carrying away my own cares. Every night, we chat, and she'll hold the phone up for the children to see my face and hear my voice before she lays them down to sleep. I often ask her to lay the phone down, placing it on speaker so I can listen to the peaceful comfort of her singing lullabies to our children.
"Nico, can we come home soon?"
"I hope so."
"When will you visit again?"
"A few days, I hope. There's something I need to take care of in Ohio first." I hear her huff of disappointment, but I'd rather be rid ofthe threat from Cosima's bikers first. "Is everything okay there? No trouble?"
Leone and Ugo update me regularly, but I want to hear it from her, too. "Yes… other than one of the guards snuck off to see his girlfriend in Chicago today. Your uncle and Ugo were furious."
I frown. "Which man?"
"Don't punish him, Nico. He misses her. He loves her."
And I love my wife and children. The guards are supposed to protect them. Leone will tell me which man, so I opt not to upset Matilde any further. "If I can't see the kids, I think we should work on our lessons some more.Notlanguage lessons."
"You are a very bad man," she whispers, though I hear the covers rustling already. My wife, who once was too ashamed to pleasure herself, enjoys our phone sex, where I instruct her what to do, living for her breathy gasps and quiet moans.
"You like my variety of bad. Start with your throat tonight,tesoro.Wrap a hand around it. Using your thumb, find your pulse for me. Can you feel it?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now, I want your other hand resting on your stomach…"
***
Hours later, I'm busy at the canvas, sated but not sated, when my phone buzzes again. I scowl, seeing the caller. "Maddalena? Is everything alright?"
“When are we coming home?” she asks. “It’s been sixteen days since you visited us in person.”
“I didn’t realize you’d been keeping count.”
“I have for my sister. Who misses her husband. Who is starting to wonder if her husband really misses her or not. If one of the guards can come home to see his girl, why can't the Capo come visit his wife? Or why can't we at least visit you for a day or two? She cried herself to sleep tonight."
Dammit. The thought of Matilde crying twists an invisible knife in my guts as Maddalena’s words hit me like a bucket of ice water. “I’ve told her every night that I miss them."
“Over the phone. It’s not good enough, Nico. Do better.”
She ends the call, leaving me both amused and annoyed with myself.“Do better.”The same words Matilde used the day after we married.
