Page 111 of Capo

We’ve reached a small stone wall at the end of the cemetery. Behind it there’s a grass covered riverbank and a slow flowing river. I hop over the wall, give Chloe my hand to help her climb it as well and then I sink down on it, my back to the graves, resting my eyes on the water.

“I was five,” I say. “When my parents died.”

“Oh my God. I didn’t know! I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I don’t remember it at all. I don’t remember them. My sister Bianca is ten years older. All impressions I’ve got of my parents, I got from what she told me, so I have all these faked memories I’ve built from a couple of worn photographs, and her stories.”

“It’s horrible to lose your parents. There’s a hole inside you forever. It never mends. Every new milepost you pass, every achievement, you instinctively want to seek their approval, but there’s no one there.”

I can’t relate to what she’s saying. All I remember is a childhood of pain and abandonment. My sister was–is–special. She did take me in, let me live under her and her husband Jackie’s roof, but she’s unable to show affection and the little kid I was needed it badly. She popped a few kids, which gave me a sense of connection, and later a few of them became my business partners. But seeking approval? I don’t think I ever did. I made my own luck, made sure that I’d never end up poor and dependent again. And I hated. I hated everyone and everything.

“Yeah. There’s no one there,” I finally say. I don’t know what to say. I don’t talk about my shit. Not with anyone. Elena was the only one who knew everything, she made me forget temporarily. Our games, my increasingly brutal exploring of my sadistic side blanked out my mind for a few moments when we were together, put me in another space, and now she’s gone. I’ve sought it ever since, found it occasionally, lost myself in feeding off others terror instead of my own.

We sit in silence. The sun breaks through the clouds, dissolves the light mist that has hovered over the water.

I glance at Chloe. She has given me the same sense of peace. The realization strikes me like a blunt hit to my chest. It’s there when we fuck, it’s there when I tie her up and spank her, when I make her whimper with pain and pleasure, but it’s also there in the quiet mornings, just seeing her moving around the house, in knowing she’s around. I rub at my chest. I’m so fucking messed up.

“Let’s go,” I grit out. “I’m done here.”

Chloe

I’m seeing new sides of Luciano every day. He works a lot, but it’s clear he sneaks away to be with me. He often pulls me out in the garden for walks in the shadows, under the crowns of the large trees. He’s set up a temporary gym in one of the guest rooms next to where we sleep and we work ourselves to exhaustion every morning, spurring each other on.

Sometimes he’s gone for days, with nothing but a short message telling me to behave. He’s always darker, rougher, after those trips, and it takes a while before he comes back to himself.

I have freedom, but I’m terrified of using it. I see my brothers regularly. They still give me shit for not letting them work in the organization, but I stand firm. If they’re grumpy over that, it’s nothing compared to how they react when I say I’ve enrolled them in classes so they can get their General Education Diploma, and if they ever end up in jail again I’ll tear off their ears. They say they’re not afraid of me, but I think they are. A little. I was always a bit of a bitch with them, and I’ve found a new strength that comes from knowing who’s got my back.

Luci. Luciano Salvatore.

The cause of so much pain, to me and to others, but also giving me a sense of belonging I’ve never had before.

I can’t change this man. He is who he is.

I know I have changed, though.

In part I’m stronger, I’m happier, it’s as if I have a family after all these years. I Skype with Alessandra several times a week, and I’m making plans for going back to visit.

In part I’m darker, rougher around the edges. I have less patience with people, I don’t aim to please anyone. I’ve found a dominant streak in myself. I can’t take it out on Luci, because he’s not having it. He forces me into submission, making me forget about everything else when he makes my body burn. I do tear new holes in the contractors almost every day, though, if they’re late, or sloppy, or if a shade of color isn’t what I asked for. I simply won’t have anyone walking over me. I’m having a blast rebuilding a large part of this giant house. It’ll be bright, the ceiling high, huge windows, a private garden only accessible through our rooms, and no fucking torture chamber in the basement. There is however a playroom there.

“Where do you want these?” Ivan has his arms full of wallpaper samples. I’m so happy to see him again. He’s been such an integral part of my life for a long while. Apart from Alessandra, Ivan is my closest friend and when I thought he was dying, it hurt me more than the bruises on my own body.

“Club room. It’s empty during the day, so we can nail these to the wall there and I’ll choose.”

He nods and spins on his heels. I trail after him. He’s regained his physique and I think he’s even larger than he was before. “When are you going back to your regular duties, Ivan?”

“I’m healed. I have my strength back.”

“You already working?”

He nods.

“Man! Why didn’t you tell me? Damn. Then I’m gonna need another henchman. I need someone I can trust.”

“Your brothers?”

“Trust, I said.”

Ivan gives out a laugh that sounds more like a bark. “I’ll find someone for you. How are you finding the family?”

---