Page 75 of Mafia Star

When Nicoletta eventually lets go of Marco, she turns to me. She’s slower as she approaches me, but she offers me a hug. I accept. The moment she wraps me in her arms, I burst into tears. What the hell? I feel safe with Marco. But I feel comforted with Nicoletta. I can’t stop sobbing. Marco’s hovering, but she’s waving him away. I reach out a hand to him, and he grips it like he fears I’ll float away. I’m not ready to let go of his mom yet. She’s cooing to me and rubbing my back. It’s the next best thing to my own mom.

I hear male voices, but I can’t tell what they’re saying even though I know they’re speaking English. I think they’re planning. I turn my head to look at Marco, and I can see the men at the other end of the living room. He should be there not holding my hand while I have a meltdown. I step back and wipe away my tears. I try to use both hands, but Marco won’t let go.

“I’m okay now.”

He nods, but he won’t let go. I smile at Nicoletta who slips away. Marco yanks me to him, and I press my right hand to his heart as my left arm wraps around him.

“Truly, Daddy. I’m okay now. I had a moment because your mom felt like a mom should. But I’m back to normal.”

I whispered to him, and he brings his lips to my ear.

“She’s awesome, and I know what you mean. I’ll never ever outgrow my mom’s hugs. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy seeing you upset. And it’s totally normal not to feel normal right now.”

“Thank you. Between your mom and you, I’m not upset anymore. You need to be over there, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t let go.

“Marco?”

“Just let me hold you a little longer.”

I realize just how much it bothered him to see me crying so hard.

“You can hold me for forever, but I won’t break. I know I didn’t turn to you, but I needed your mom in that moment.”

“Beth, I’m not upset about that. I’m glad you have my mom. It makes me feel better knowing that. I hate that I’m the reason you needed her.”

“You are not the reason. You were born into this, and I know now that my grandfather left. But I can tell why you can’t. Why you won’t. I will never fault you for putting your family ahead of yourself. It was vainglorious people with chips on their shoulders who did this. I don’t have to understand every law of physics to know that bullet landed next to my foot when it did because someone shot at you first. That told me the other officers would have shot at you, too. And they wouldn’t shoot to miss. They started it, and you protected me. They are the reason. Not you. Not ever you.”

It isn’t him as an individual. It’s the fucked-up world he belongs to. One I don’t think a single member of his family would remain in if they could escape while keeping everyone they love safe. I admit I was a bit judgy when I learned what kind of family Laura married into when she became a Kutsenko. I shouldn’t have been because now I’m exactly like her. Because my sister is just like her.

There’s something about these men and these families… You can overlook what happens when you’re not there. You can make peace with who they have to be. You can love them for how they’ll do anything for the people they’ve sworn to protect.

I don’t know if there’s some kind of initiation into manhood like a bar mitzvah for Mafiosos. I don’t know if the other syndicate families have something. Maybe the pledge doesn’t have to be said out loud, but it's there.

“I pray you never change your mind, piccolina.”

We’re still whispering to each other, but it’s wistful too. I pat his chest as I give him a squeeze. I need to show him I can handle this. I need to stand on my own two feet so he can concentrate. I let go of him and turn toward the living room. Something dawns on me.

“Are those girls your cousins?”

“Yeah. Uncle Salvatore and Aunt Sylvia’s daughters. Pia is the older one, and Natalia is the younger one.”

“Aren’t they going to ask questions about your face?”

“They know we all box. They’ll think I lost. One of the guys will cover for me. We keep away if there are any other injuries, but if we can blame boxing, we do.”

I wonder how old the girls will be when they realize their family is built on lies and love. They look around nine and eleven, maybe ten and twelve. I’d guess there’s about two years between them. They laugh at something they’re watching. When they look up to call out to someone, they notice Marco. Both girls run over, and I brace myself for knowing Marco’s going to lie to their faces.

“Are you Liz? Are you Chelle’s sister?”

The questions come out, and I don’t know who asked which.

“Yes, to both.”

“Chelle’s so cool. I like her. She’s so much more fun than Enzo. Are you more fun than Marco?”

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