Page 1 of King

ONE

giovanni

My beautiful Bella is dead.

I’ve loved her since we were teenagers.

Decades ago. A lifetime.

She’s spent every day at my side, committed to me, the perfect wife and mother.

And now she’s gone, and the world is cold and empty without her.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on. She took care of me in ways that no one else has ever done.

The church is heavy with tension as people move quietly towards the open casket to say their last goodbyes.

The only sound is a methodical beat of rain against the stained glass windows as a storm beats against the side of the church.

I walk slowly towards the ornate, hand carved, mahogany box holding my wife’s dead body. Gold inlays curve in delicate floral patterns over the side of the coffin.

From here, I can’t see inside.

My brain and my heart are at war. One wants to look at her, to capture one last image of her beautiful face. But the other is warning me, screaming in fact, that it isn’t her, her soul is long gone, and I don’t want to see the lifeless, pale emptiness of whatever remains.

Whatever is in that casket–is not my Bella. It’s not my wife.

My sons shift in a line behind me, their heads bowed in grief. They are quiet. Silent and numb.

Santino, my oldest, reaches out and squeezes my shoulder as I step close to the coffin, staring inside -

“She loved you, dad.” He whispers.

At twenty-four years old, he is a strong young man with a fearless heart.

One day, he will take over my kingdom and rule over everything I’ve built in this dark, underground world. I am a king without a queen.

My heart clenches tight in my chest.

Bella. She could be sleeping. She looks so peaceful.I can’t help myself. Impulse takes over and I reach out and brush my fingers over her cheek.

Regret shoots through me. I draw my hand back quickly, as though I’ve been stung by the cold, rubbery feeling of her flesh.

“Wherever your mother is - I hope she is happy.” I say, my voice sounding harsh and hallow.

Santino doesn’t say anything. He steps up to say goodbye to his mother as I move away, wiping my hand on my pants to take away the memory of that touch. The foreign sensation of it against my skin.

One by one the people who knew Bella take a moment at her coffin, looking down at her empty shell, they cry, whisper things, then find a seat in the rows of wooden chairs positioned around her, and the forest of blue flowers at her side.

Blue was her favorite color.

I clear my throat, standing at the podium, trying to ease the thick lump sitting at the back of my throat away so that I can speak with authority.

“Bella—”

I take a deep breath.

“Bella was an incredible woman. She was the pillar of this family. She was my strength when I needed strength, and my heart when I needed love. She was magnificent and kind. She was the perfect wife. The perfect mother. The perfect friend to those who knew her.”

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