Page 3 of Apple Martinis

Most of the homes around me are rented out during the summer to vacationers from all over the world. My favorite neighbors came along a couple of summers ago.

The nice older couple made it their mission to make sure that I ate every day. I didn’t mind either. Mrs. Fitz could seriously cook. I still get cards and letters from them every single month.

Pulling up to my house, the outside light comes on automatically. I installed it during the remodel so that I wouldn’t have to leave the outside light on all the time until I came in to cut it off. It saves not only on the electric bill but is also less bothersome to my neighbors.

I hear the patter of claws on the floor as soon as I walk in the door and see Mocha, my pit-bull, coming to make sure of who is coming into the house.

“It’s just me.” I announce, shutting the door behind me.

I swear she snorts before walking back in the other direction as though I disturbed her sleep. Walking into the kitchen behind her, I watch as she walks over to her place by the back door to lay down.

“Don’t lay over there and go back to sleep. You need to go out first. We don’t want any more accidents in the middle of the night.” I tell her but she just looks at me until I grab her leash then she turns into a completely different dog by jumping around in circles until I attach it to her collar.

It doesn’t take her long to do her business and I clean it up, throwing it in the outside trash can. Once we are back inside, she goes back to being lazy once again.

Opening my fridge, I see only one option which is a sandwich and I fix it quickly, grabbing a bottle of water out of the door as well.

Going to my room, I set everything on my bedside table and go in my closet in search of my computer, wanting to check up on my stocks which I’ve not done lately. As I reach for it on the top shelf, I see the photo album my mom gave me years ago on her deathbed.

Grabbing it as well, I go get comfortable on my bed. Opening up the album as I take a bite of sandwich I look through all the younger pictures of me with my mom.

She was so beautiful on the outside and inside. It still hurts that cancer took her from me while she was still so young.

The last picture I come to is one I have looked at many times. It’s a picture of my father. The only one my mom had. In the picture with him are two younger boys identical to each other.

Mom made me swear to never contact them. At first she would never tell me why but one day just before she passed, she told me what she knew.

It’s an odd feeling to find out your father was in the Italian Mafia. She told me stories of how he would take whatever he wanted and that included her although she says for a while she loved it. She knew he was already married but she was young, not realizing how serious it all was.

By the time she was pregnant with me, she knew only bad things could come into my life if he was allowed to stay in it. Not that he wanted to anyway.

He sent her a check along with a goodbye note that also demanded that she get rid of it. Get rid of me.

She didn’t obviously, as here I am. She was so scared he’d find out that I was alive and come take me away, or worse, kill me.

Her fear seeped into me as well though after researching his name. My search stalled though as if he just disappeared so I finally a few weeks ago hired an investigator to see what he could find out.

Yesterday, I received a letter from him with his findings. He was able to find that my Father passed away not long after I was born and his brother now controlled the family holdings from his base in New Orleans.

The two boys he still hasn’t found much on but did say he thought he seen them at a party in New Orleans not long ago. It appeared that one of them was celebrating their anniversary.

He’s stumped, though, about not being able to find anything even on that marriage. It’s like it doesn’t exist.

We are dealing with the Mafia though so it certainly is no surprise. They could easily use a hacker to keep their entire lives on the down low.

Another surprise though, was that he was able to get the contact information for my supposed Uncle Tony which he included in his letter.

I’ve called the number a few times and every time someone answers, I hang up unable to get the words out.

Besides, what do you say anyway? Hi, I’m your long lost nephew you didn’t know anything about? Yeah, no. Maybe I’ll eventually get up the nerve. For now everything needs to stay in this album.

It’s not like they know about me anyway so waiting a while longer isn’t going to hurt a thing. I’m happy with my life the way it is although it does get lonely not having anyone.

I’ll be alright. I have to be because I promised my mama that I would be.

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