Page 182 of Vita Mia

“He looks like her, doesn’t he?” Carlo asked.

“Yes, he does,” Arielle said through her tears. “Will he come here? Will you bring him to Italy?”

“I’m a ghost Arielle. You know why I’m back.”

Arielle wiped her tears. She stared at the picture. “Gio. He’s in jail in Rome. The Campania is burning without him. I knew you’d return. That you’d not let us suffer like this.”

“Like how?” he asked.

Arielle didn’t answer. She kept staring at the picture.

“I saw Nico. He said a lot of strange shit. But strangest of all he said Lorenzo was alive. Is that true?” Carlo asked.

Arielle broke from her trance and looked at him confused. “Alive? Lo? How? I was never told.”

Carlo continued to eat. He never felt in his gut that his friend was dead. Not truly. Arielle came over and sat at the table. “The Ballistrieri are now in control. They’re destroying everything. They collude with the Puglia’s. Families are being torn apart. We are losing our boys to their war. It has to end.”

Carlo ran his hand back over his head. “I’m not here for that. I can only stay for a short while and then I’m gone again. For good.”

She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. Carlo stopped chewing. “I told you before that it wasn’t over. That you could never be gone. We are blood. This is who we are. Adara was your true love. Her son is Italian. He needs to be raised here, among his people.”

Carlo swallowed. “Arielle, he’s fine. He has a good life and he’s loved. Trust me.”

She bitterly withdrew her hand.

He looked down at his pasta. Lorenzo was alive. Renaldo was dead. And in America he had a new life. Blood or no blood, he was not going to give that up. Not even to appease the deep heartache in his friend Arielle.

“Can I stay the night? Just the night? I can’t sleep in that car,” Carlo said.

She touched his face. “You can stay in her room. I keep it as she left it.”

Carlo flinched. He looked into Arielle’s eyes and saw the same madness he had when Adara died. She had not recovered in all this time. She was still trapped in grief. He took Arielle’s hand and kissed it. “I’m sorry,cara, for everything.”

Arielle dropped her head and cried. After eating and drinking with Arielle he went to the back of the villa where Adara once slept. The room was not changed. And her picture was on the wall and in a frame on the nightstand with candles around it. A memorial. Carlo sat on the bed and stared at his once beautiful wife. Everywhere he turned the ghost of his past haunted him. But seeing her again renewed his purpose. He picked up Adara’s photo and touched her face.

“Our boy’s growing. He’s a good soon. You’d be proudcara,” he said with a sad smile. Carlo kissed the photo and sat it down. He fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. Arielle was right. This was in his blood. But he would not lose sight of the real purpose in his life. When the nightmare was over he was going back to his new life.

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