Prologue #2
Ever since we returned from the funeral, Dario is the one who tries to calm Papa down, but it never works. For the last couple of days, it seems like Dario’s voice only makes things worse for Papa.
I tiptoe to the top of the stairs, peeking down at them both through the bannister.
Papa is pacing around in the hallway, his hands running through his hair.
Everything is broken downstairs.
Dario has a frown on his face as he looks at it all—the shattered glass, the broken vases—and he shakes his head.
“You need to do something, Papa.” Dario says, his voice steady though I can hear the frustration that’s there too. “You need to find the people who did this to Mama.”
Papa stops pacing as he turns to face Dario, his expression full of anger.
“What do you think I have been doing all this time?!”
Papa finally snaps, his voice sharp.
I gasp, feeling my heart beat faster in my chest.
Dario takes a step forward, his shoulders squared.
“Well why haven’t you found anything?!” My brother argues. “You’re supposed to be the one in charge, Papa. You’re supposed to protect this family! All you’ve done is—”
Papa moves so fast, neither Dario nor I expect it.
He pushes my brother against the wall, his finger sharp in Dario’s face.
“Enough, Dario! You do not know what you are talking about! You are just a boy; you have no idea how this works!”
Frustrated, Dario puts both of his hands on Papa’s chest, shoving him backward.
“I understand enough!” Dario shouts back to Papa. “I understand that you’ve been sulking here, yelling at everybody, breaking all of our things, whilst the people who killed Mama are still out there, probably celebrating the fact that they haven’t been caught yet!”
Papa takes another step closer to my brother again, and this time, I notice the way his fists are clenched.
My lips part as I feel my eyes tearing up.
Papa has never hurt us, and I hope that he won’t start now.
“Watch your mouth.”
Papa tells Dario coldly.
For a second, I think Dario will; I think he’s going to back down.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, my brother stands his ground, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing with fury.
“Make. Me.”
The silence that follows is so thick, I feel like I can barely breathe.
Papa stares at Dario, his chest heaving as though he’s trying to stop himself from doing something stupid, his eyes wide as he stares at my brother. Finally, he turns around, running his fingers through his hair.
“You do not understand, Dario.” Papa says in a quiet voice, though the anger is still clear in his tone. “This is not about what I want. An alliance is already in place. And besides, the Don has already made his decision. We are leaving.”
Dario blinks, a frown appearing on his face.
“What?”
Papa turns back around to face him, his expression hard.
“We are moving, Dario. England is where we will go in a month, or less.”
My stomach drops.
“No.” Dario says, his voice low and dangerous. “You can’t make this decision to pack us up and leave. Not now that I’ve made my life here. Not now that I’m so close to being inducted!”
Papa shakes his head.
“It has already been decided.”
Dario doesn’t like hearing that.
“You decided!”
He snaps at our father, stepping forward.
“No.” Papa repeats in a controlled voice. “The Don decided. Alessandro. He thinks—he says—that it is safer if we move there.”
Dario doesn’t understand.
“Who is it safer for? Mama is dead, Papa, and now you want to run away instead of finding the people behind it!”
Sobs bubble out of my throat at that very second, and I know I can’t take it any longer.
Running down the stairs, I clutch Mr. Buttons close to my chest, only stopping when I’m at the very bottom so I won’t get any broken glass in my feet.
“Stop it!”
I shout, hearing my voice crack.
Both Papa and Dario turn to look at me, their angry faces softening immediately.
“Chiara…”
Papa’s voice is quiet now, like he wants me to stop crying.
Dario steps closer to me, reaching out so I’ll take his hand in mine, but I don’t move.
“We didn’t mean to argue.”
I don’t care.
Feeling hot tears rolling down my cheeks, I continue shouting at them both.
“Mama wouldn’t want you both to fight! She loves you both, and she would hate to see you both fighting like this!”
For a moment, they don’t say anything, and they don’t move.
Then Dario crouches down in front of me, pulling me into his arms. His chest is warm and solid, and he places his chin above my head.
“I’m sorry for shouting at Papa like that, Chiara. I didn’t mean it.”
I cry louder as I wrap my arms around my older brother, letting Mr. Buttons fall to the floor.
Papa steps forward, wrapping his arms around both of us, pulling us closer into his chest. His hands stroke our heads, and I hear how fast his heart is beating in his own chest as he takes deep breaths.
“I am sorry, Chiara.” Papa says, his voice rough with emotion. “And I am sorry for how I spoke to you, Dario.”
My brother squeezes his eyes shut as he holds onto Papa, and for a long time, the three of us stay like that in each other’s arms.
I try to imagine Mama’s arms around us too, but when I do, I only cry harder, missing her too much.
When Papa tries to pull away from us, I don’t let him. I grasp onto him, desperate to have him close as I whimper into his chest. And as Papa realises just how much I need this, he doesn’t hesitate to stay like that, soothing me as he holds me tightly.
After some time has passed, I finally allow Papa to pull away from us both.
He keeps both hands on either one of our shoulders, looking between us both.
“We are going to be okay. This is what is best for us; this is what is best for our family.” I look over to Dario, but he doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he just nods, his jaw tight. Papa straightens up, and I miss the feeling of being safe in his arms immediately.
After clearing his throat, he speaks again.
“There are a lot of things I need to do before we leave. Can I ask you both to begin packing your things in the meantime? Only plan to take what is necessary. The rest will stay here, and anything else will be purchased once we are overseas.”
I look around the hallway, choosing to ignore the broken mess on the floor.
I look at the pictures on the wall, the pretty chandelier that lights up this space, and the shelves we put up for our little ceramic angels. The thought of leaving this all behind makes my chest ache.
But since Dario doesn’t say anything, neither do I. Instead, I just nod my head at Papa before I follow Dario upstairs.
He goes into my bedroom first, his eyes scanning all over my things.
“We’ll take a few of your teddies, and some clothes too. Like Papa said, everything else can be bought once we’re in England.”
My stomach tightens as he says that.
Instead of going to my toys, or showing Dario which clothes I want to take, I go to my bed. I pick up the photo I have of Mama, and I hold it close to my chest. In the photo, she’s smiling as she hugs Papa, and Dario and I are standing in front of them, smiling happily too.
My bottom lip wobbles as I feel my breathing begin to go all weird again.
Dario steps closer to me, sitting down on the edge of my bed.
“Everything will be okay, sorellina.” He tells me quietly, reaching out to hold my hand. “Papa is here, and so am I. We’ll help you tidy up.”
I look up at him, feeling my throat tighten up.
“Do you think Mama would want us to go?”
I have no idea where England even is, but if Dario was angry about it, then I’m guessing it might not be that good.
Dario doesn’t answer me immediately, instead, my brother hesitates.
“I think Mama would want us all to be safe, and if Papa says that England is the place to be, then we’ll go there.”
I don’t say anything to that.
I just hold the photo even tighter.
And exactly two weeks later, we leave.
We leave our empty house behind, and we get into Papa’s car. As we drive away, I can’t help but remember Mama, and I cry harder knowing that we are leaving her behind.
No matter what they say, it doesn’t help.
I can’t stop the tears from falling.