Page 28 of Cara
“If I heard her voice, Bo, I wouldn’t be able to stay away.”
Winter arrives as a blizzard—one of the worst in years.
“Go home, Dario. Before the roads are blocked.”
“You’ll be good here, Boss?”
Once he receives my nod, he packs up his briefcase, kissing my mother’s cheek on his way out. She follows him, insisting on packing him a meal for later. The television relays news of widespread closures. The city, the highways. Even the police have sent out issues to remain inside.
Despite the storm, my desk is piled with court summons and complaints. Passing the portrait of my father, which still hangs above the hearth, I take a seat at his desk, pulling open the leather bindings to sign. The quick rhythm of descending snow strikes the windows.
My mother deposits espresso beside the piles of work.
“Let’s watch a movie.”
“I have work to do.”
She smiles, leaning against the desk. “How often do we have time together like this? Dai, amore mio, watch a movie with your dear mamma. It’ll be Christmas in a week.”
Christmas. A holiday I now loathe. Ruined for me two years ago when my father piled the house with guests—rapistsmingling with my unsuspecting family. While he forced me to pretend, toasting by the luminous Christmas tree, my wife was rotting in a cell. Every damn day, I had to pretend. Pretend I didn’t find ways to occupy the men my father would send her way, pretend I didn’t opt for the hard floor at night rather than a mattress, unable to fathom comfort when I knew where she was… steps away from me but out of reach.
In times like this, when I remember, the guilt I usually carry in regards to my father eases to something like satisfaction. I’m glad. Glad I killed him. Glad I killedeverysingleoneofthem.
Burdened by a poisoned heart, my gaze rests on my mother with exasperation, sick and tired of goddamn everything. But then I remember how long it took her to move on from the loss of her husband, who’d been her usual way of life and that makes me concede. She beams as she does whenever I have enough time to devote attention to her, grabbing the cup. I follow her out with my arm around her shoulder.
She’s snoring softly within the first ten minutes ofIt’s a Wonderful Life.
My phone vibrates on my lap. Seeing Rosa’s name, I lift the phone to my ear. “Is everything okay? It’s late.”
Her panicked voice shoves me to my feet, immediately bolting for my coat. “Isabella has a fever. It’s high. We can’t get an ambulance since our street is blocked. Xavier,oh God.She’s burning up!”
“Put Caesar on the phone.”
“Don Marcello,” he says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “We’ve bathed her in cold water. We’ve given her all the medicine we have. I know it’s dangerous. We know you can’t see her without notice, but we didn’t know who else to call?—”
The wind howls, pelting icy rain onto my face as I rush down the manor’s steps. “I’m coming. Keep Rosa calm. DressIsabella in warm clothes. I only have the convertible. I’ll take her to the hospital.”
“But if you’re seen?—”
“I’ll call ahead to ensure I'm not.”
He exhales. “Thank you.”
The car is speeding from the gates when I spot my mother on the porch, waving her arms. The vintage Maserati navigates toppled branches in the road, the snow piling on either side. My foot slams on the accelerator, hurling me towards the highway. Pressing on the Bluetooth, I find Dario’s number.
He answers instantly. “You good, Boss?”
“Call the hospital in Bronxville and arrange for a private room with access through the back. It needs to be ready in twenty minutes.”
The great thing about Dario. He doesn’t question. “It’ll be done.”
When I arrive in their Bronxville neighborhood, I understand why the ambulances wouldn’t come. At least three feet of snow blankets the streets, forcing me to stop the car. My eyes scan the houses on either side of me. Their gates are buried in white, doorsteps invisible.
Damn, their house is around this bend.
With no choice, I shut off the car, pushing the door open. Mounds of snow topple inside before I can shut it. This has to be quick, or this car won’t go anywhere tonight.
As I push through the surface to my knees, I notice their porch light is on. Caesar shouts with relief when he sees me trudging through the snow before running back inside. By the time I reach the gate and grab on, he has Isabella in his arms. Rosa is in hysterics.
