Page 58 of Alfie: Part Two

As if sensing my mood, West squeezed my hand and kissed my temple.

“Let’s go see her.”

Dad nodded and opened the door slowly, and he was the first to enter.

Fuck. I was gonna see her all banged up. Currently, Dad was blocking the view, and that kind of worked for me when I turned into a chickenshit. Like, all of a sudden, I was seven years old again, and that was my mama in there. Mama wasneversick. Never weak.

“Honey? Alfie and West are here to see you.” Dad walked over to her bedside and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead, and my stare got completely stuck on her form. I saw her arms and her face, nothing else, but that was bad enough.

Holy fuck.

I gnashed my teeth, and a numbing pressure traveled up my arm until I noticed West and I were holding each other’s hands way too tightly. I loosened my hold a little and let out a shaky breath, and when West approached slowly, I had to do the same.

“Lee-Lee,” Dad murmured. “Our boy’s here.”

No one will ever hurt you again, Mom.

Before I was ready, I was right there next to her bed, and West released my hand to gently touch Mom’s hand.

Seeing her with my own eyes made everything real in a way it hadn’t been before.

“You get all the rest you need, Giulia. We will be here,” he said quietly. Then he kissed the side of my head. “I’ll sit down over there.” He nodded at a chair in the corner.

Deep breaths.

Mom stirred a bit as Dad brushed his hand along her bruised arm.

“Mom?” Fuck. My voice almost cracked. I cleared my throat and grabbed the chair next to the other bed. Nobody was using it, or the other bed—or maybe that was where Dad had slept. “Can you hear me?” I sat down closer to her and carefully held her hand.

She made a groggy sound and cracked her eyes open a fraction. It looked like her eyelids felt heavy, even though the bruising wasn’t too bad there. She had a small black eye on her right side, then more marks down her cheek and neck.

“Mijo,” she croaked.

“Yeah, I’m here.” I lifted her hand and kissed the top of it. “Dad said the surgeries went well. That’s good, innit? You’ll be outta here in no time.”

She sniffled and threaded our fingers together, which reminded me of her injuries. I looked over at her other hand, and there it was. A cast.

“Did she break her arm too?” I asked quietly.

“Her wrist, so they did the whole…” Dad ghosted his fingers a bit past her wrist. He must’ve forgotten to mention it earlier. The cast looked thinner than the one I’d had as a kid. “She won’t have it long, the doc said. A couple weeks, and then she’ll get splints.”

Christ. She was a Kinder Egg of surprise injuries. I didn’t even wanna look under the blanket to see her legs.

“Mijo,” Mom rasped. “You let the police…handle…this,capisce?”

“Of course, Mama. Don’t worry about it,” I replied.

She closed her eyes, let out a breath, and tilted her head toward Dad. “Gotta be careful… Our son is a wackadoo mobster.”

West coughed, presumably to hide his humor, and Dad laughed outright.

“Be nice to him, honey,” he chuckled. “You’re gonna want him around when I’m at work and you’re in the mood for roasted pork.”

Oh yeah. “I’m your man, Ma. You let me know, and I’ll drive over to Juanita’s and order whatever you want.” I flicked a glance at Dad. “Can she eat solids?”

I didn’t know how extensive her injuries were around her neck and jaw. She had no neck support today, like in the photos when she’d had bandages all around.

“Soon enough,” he confirmed. “She’s got the IV for now, but according to the X-rays, she’s just sore.” Yeah, and she had a split lip. “I’m guessin’ they’ll bring by Jell-O or some shit first. I don’t know.”

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