Chapter 16 – Gino
Chapter Sixteen
Gino
I’m handling the court situation well – in my opinion. Peter hired a great lawyer for me and all I have to do is listen to the family to keep my ass out of prison for good.
I’m just happy that I can put what I learned in Italy to good use.
I’ll be fine as long as I keep my head down, exercise, pray, and remember that I serve a greater purpose.
Dad wants me close until I go to trial. He thinks the plea deal is bullshit and by hiring this fancy law firm, I’ll be out of trouble completely soon.
I never thought my father cared much about what happened to me, but this trial has taught me differently.
My father doesn’t do anything casually. Tonight, I meet him on the dock of Lake Erie so he can take me out on the boat for a sunset chat.
I dress up in a pale grey seersucker suit and make sure to bring his favorite brand of dry white wine from Italy from Renzo’s cellar rather than my personal collection.
Paranoid about wire taps, dad wants me to have all my conversations with him out on the boat.
When I meet him at the dock, he’s already sitting in a Coleman camping chair smoking a cigar.
He gets up, unsmiling and holds his arms outstretched so I can hug him and kiss his cheeks.
Leandro Taviani gives very wet Italian greetings and I struggle not to wipe his spit from my stubble when I pull away.
“Look at you, eh? I am so proud of you…”
Dad smiles at me and I want to be above that surge of pride in my chest, but I’m not.
From as early as I can remember, I knew my father was both powerful and different from the other fathers around.
He could shift the emotions in a room with ease and he was very open with us children at least about his high expectations and the consequences that would follow not meeting those expectations.
My voice shocks me with its tightness as I greet my father. “Good evening.”
“Come on, let’s go for a drive.”
The water is calm for a change. Dad drives us out to the middle of the lake.
We can’t do much talking while the engine roars.
The sun paints the sky a beautiful orange and pink color.
My heart stops as I realize that this may be one of the last times I see the sun setting on the lake for… I don’t know how long.
“How’s it going with the lawyer?” Dad asks when the boat stops. I don’t want to blame him for getting straight to business.
“Good. We’ll see what he says about the judge.”
“So you’re working with an associate? Not the boss.”
Dad keeps track of far more than I give him credit for.
“He seems sharp.”
“Okay. We’re paying enough to get you off. It should go well. Trust, kid. Trust.”
I try not to sound scared, but I have to express the truth out loud now that there’s nobody else to hear it but my dad and the empty lake. “I could be in there for life if we screw up.”
The thought of never seeing the sun again, never touching another girl… Scares the crap out of me, honestly. Dating hasn’t been so easy these days and I thought I would have more time to live my life. I can’t let my father see this weakness.
My father puts his hand on my back in a silent effort to comfort me.
I don’t know if it’s working. It’s just easier to turn my brain off and follow the orders presented to me that will keep my family safe and strong.
I’m nearing thirty now, it’s time for me to build my reputation and connections with small acts of loyalty and sacrifice.
I just hope I don’t have to sacrifice my whole life.
“In this way, you’re stronger than your brother,” my father says, offering up more motivation for me to carry on with taking the fall here. “Always been less emotional.”
I’m sure to him, I seemed that way. When you grow up in lock step with your perfect mirror, you see your own flaws play out.
Renzo seems far less self-conscious about his emotions and easily overreacts.
It’s a miracle Geralynn can put up with his mercurial nature at all.
I learned from a young age that nothing good comes from wearing your heart on your sleeve in this family.
Even my father uses love to manipulate. I only trust him now because others have noticed this difference between myself and my twin brother.
Although now, I also have stubble, which I hoped my father would notice since my cousin Flora says it makes me look more mature and more Italian, which I like.
“If you go in,” my father says. “You can be useful to us. I’ll make sure you have a cellphone, as much money in your commissary as you need and weapons to defend yourself. Don’t mess with any Blacks, Hispanics, or hardcore racists. Right now, we don’t have anyone else on the inside…”
“That won’t be good if they send me down to the city.”
“They won’t,” my father says. “Trust me, Gino. Just because you’re the youngest, doesn’t mean you’re a spare son. Your blood is just as important to me as Luigi’s.”
“Hm.”
A fish jumps in the distance and I wish I could follow behind and swim away from all my problems right now.
It’s not just going to court that’s on my mind, but the horrible situation with my sister and cousin, the trouble in Pittsburgh, and my utter horror that I might fall behind in life no matter how the trial plays out.
“Life is funny, Gino. You dismiss your youngest son and he ends up being the one who could make you the most proud. No, no. I believe in hierarchy, but I also believe in your importance. Do you understand?”
“I think I do.”
My father spends most of his time speaking in parables in a state of semi-drunkenness.
I might understand the pure content of whatever he says, but figuring out his subtext requires a deep dive into the psyche of a man that only my mother has ever understood.
And I’m pretty sure she worked her way into his head and heart with a mixture of homemade cannolis and the best lasagna on the East Coast.
Leandro’s kids didn’t get the privilege of comprehending his motives.
“I’ll look after you, as long as you look after your blood.”
I feel a strange icy chill running through me. He sighs. “I’m no racist and I love the kids. I love them dearly. Luigi made good choices and Renzo… He’s had a strange fixation with Nicki’s friend for a long time.”
We can both agree there. Renzo had a creepy obsession with pranking her, even when we were teenagers. I couldn’t have cared less about Geralynn’s existence and hardly noticed her.
My father continues. “But you have not yet chosen a bride and you have a chance to do something to help this family. To marry someone who forms a strong political alliance with our family.”
“Who? Someone from Pittsburgh?”
“I don’t know,” my father says. “And I understand choosing to marry for love but… I want just one son who chooses politics.”
He sighs with deep disappointment that fills me with a burden that I never realized that I felt.
Am I really so desperate for the old man’s approval?
Perhaps I shouldn’t take offense. I’m unmarried and considering everything we just went through with Angela and Cosima, I can’t blame him for having concerns about peace.
But my happiness is irrelevant to my father, it always has been. And it gives me pause about going to prison for this man… potentially for the rest of my life. I have to trust that he has my best interests at heart. That he truly loves me.
At times, I’ve been uncertain.
Is that wrong to say? I guess my job is just to do what I’m told… and help my family.
If I want a family of my own or love later on down the line… then I’ll figure out how the hell that could possibly work in the fucked up world of darkness and violence that I live in.