Page 20 of Brando

She looks at me, searching my face for any sign of doubt or deceit. Finding none, she lets out a long breath and nods slowly, sealing our pact with a sense of determination.

It angers me that it's come to this; me trying to convince Mia that her sisters are still alive. When I don’t know anything for sure past the fact that the twins are not in the custody of the Maltese. That’s the only thing I’m almost certain of. My jaw ticks as my mind strays to thoughts of Falcone. Aside from the Maltese doing some leg work to win the reward I promised them to release the Andrade sisters from their debt, I have nothing to go on. Nothing but the gut feeling I have that Falcone’s manipulations are weaving a treacherous web of danger around us.

Mia's unwavering gaze pierces through me, igniting a fire of fierce protectiveness in my chest. The thought of her needing me fuels a determination so strong that I would move mountains to find her sisters and keep them safe from harm. Our once unbreakable bond, shaken by years of distance and circumstance, comes full circle as I understand the gravity of the responsibility placed on my shoulders, and vow to share her load with an unwavering determination.

10

BRANDO

The summer of my twelfth year stretched out before me like an endless canvas, painted with the vibrant colors of childhood laughter and adventure. We spent countless hours exploring the woods behind our neighborhood, our imaginations intertwining in that way that only childhood imaginations can.

One Saturday, the sun scorched the cloudless sky, casting warm rays on my skin. I had been feeling particularly restless that morning, a feeling that seemed to settle heavily in my chest. I wanted to escape the weight of my thoughts, the shadows that had been creeping in ever since the loss of my twin brother. But as I stepped outside the pizzeria, box in hand, I ran into a distraught Mia, pacing back and forth in a rush, looking for something. Even when we had no plans to meet up, something always threw us together; that was the nature of our relationship.

“Mia!” My voice cut through the air. She turned, surprised at the sound, then frowned before she resumed her search.

I jogged over to her, the world around us blurring into a backdrop of color and sound. She told me she’d lost hernecklace, the one her mother gave her, and we spent the next hour combing the streets, looking for the trinket. With every minute that passed, Mia’s anxiety grew, until she was almost in a panic, and I had a hard time calming her down. That’s how Mia got whenever she was anxious, whenever she lost control of a situation.

Eventually, we collapsed on the grass, breathless and exhausted from our search, eating cold pizza as we watched the clouds float lazily by.

“What do you think they’re doing up there?” Mia asked, pointing at a particularly fluffy cloud, her necklace all but forgotten.

I squint, trying to make out its shape. “That one looks like a dragon breathing fire,” I said, a smile creeping onto my face. “And the one next to it looks like a castle.”

Mia giggled, her laughter infectious. “A dragon and a castle! They must be having an epic battle right now.” She leaned back, her hair splayed out around her like a halo, and I couldn’t help but stare. In that moment, no matter how fleeting it was, she was the embodiment of all my minuscule thoughts of happiness.

“Do you ever think about what you want to be when you grow up?” she asked me, the question hanging in the air between us. “ I want to be a writer,” she informed me, her eyes alight with passion. “I want to write until I can no longer feel this tingle that itches in my fingers. What about you?”

She turned, waiting for my answer expectantly.

I hesitated, the weight of my family’s expectations pressing down on me. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never really thought about it.”

I looked away, focusing on the distant trees swaying in the wind.

Mia noticed the shift in my demeanor and changed the subject.

The sun dipped lower as the afternoon wore on, casting a golden balm over everything. We decided to head down to the creek, a hidden gem that lay nestled among the trees.

The water shimmered like diamonds as it flowed, and we took off our shoes, wading in, laughter spilling from our lips as we splashed each other.

“Okay, okay! No more splashing!” I said, holding my hands up in mock surrender. But Mia’s laughter only grew louder, and I couldn’t help but join in, the sound echoing off the banks like a melody.

After we sat on the riverbank, wet and exhilarated, Mia turned to me, her expression softening. “You know, I think we’ll always be friends, no matter what happens.”

I gave a nod, a sense of familiar warmth flooding through me. Mia was my escape away from my mind. Away from the thoughts of my brother Christiano, which plagued my mind day in, day out. But as the shadows lengthened and the day began to wane, my heart tightened with the understanding that time was fleeting. We were on the cusp of high school, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that our lives were about to change forever.

Yet in that moment, as we lay in the grass on the bank of the creek that would eventually become our weekly meeting spot, I felt a connection that transcended words. It was a bond forged in laughter, in dreams, and in the innocent wonder of youth. A bond born of friendship and the mutual experience of loss, that would carry us through the years like a talisman.

The fear that I would someday lose Mia was an anxiety that festered, clawing at my mind. I couldn’t handle another loss. I looked at her face illuminated by the fading light, knowing I had to let go of my fear, had to take things one day ata time. For now, we were just two kids, chasing butterflies and dreaming of futures filled with endless possibilities as we overcame our mutual grief. I had lost my brother, and she had lost her mother. And in that moment, everything felt right. Complete.

The swing setcreaks in the breeze, echoing the laughter of days long gone. I stand at the edge of the rusty old slide, my hands clenched into fists, my heart pounding. I can’t believe that after all this time, I would come full circle and end up in this of all places. This used to be our playground, a place so sacred to us—until it became tainted with Frank Falcone’s presence. I know that everything he ever did when we were kids was to spite me. He went above and beyond to destroy everything that was precious to me. He put extra effort into always one-upping me in everything we did, like we were in some kind of one-sided competition.

Mia watches me carefully as I reach out and give the swing seat a gentle push. I’m lost in a tide of memories as I stand there, observing the changes in the landscape from the time when we were young and carefree. The place looks like it’s been long forgotten, as though the kids that used to play here grew up and left it behind, and no-one came to claim it after us.

There’s a chill wind that dances against the steady bubble of the creek waters. It was always so beautiful here. It still is, but it’s overgrown, the grass that was once green now dotted with nasty shades of wheat. This place is more foreboding than it is welcoming, and I can’t help but think there’s a reason why Frank Falcone brought her back here. After all these years, and of all the places they could have met, this derelict playground with thecreek running through it is the place he chose. As though it was one more fuck you aimed directly at me. It was always about what more he could do to taunt me.

“Why here, Mia? Of all the places you could’ve picked…” My voice is calm but laced with bitterness as I throw the accusation at her. Her eyes widen; blindsided by my words. She’s even more stunned that I would bring her here. “Why would you bring him to the spot that was so sacred to us?” I take a step forward, the space between us crackling with anger, and I know I must seem menacing to her, because she takes a step back away from me.

“I didn’t know he was bringing me here!” she exclaims, her hands gesturing wildly. And it could be true, and it could just be a coincidence, but too many coincidences in my book add up to something more. Falcone asking her to meet him by the creek where we made so many memories all these years later dredged up memories that had no business finding themselves in the present. The first time I saw them at the creek, all those years ago, I’d gone there to wallow in my own self-pity, and as though he knew, heknewI’d be there, and he led her to the exact same spot where we would sit under the old weeping willow by the water’s edge. And when she had looked at me with her quiet eyes and felt the sense of betrayal steaming off me, she had tried to change the spot, but Falcone had circled back and conquered what had been reserved as our little piece of heaven. Just ours. I had hated her in that moment as I watched them from the creek’s edge, and then as I turned and walked away, even as she called my name. I hate hated her a little, but I had loved her all the same.

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