Chapter 23 Constantine
Constantine
I texted my mother and told her I was going to swing by. Gave her as little notice as possible. Otherwise, she would bake a lasagna, a full loaf of bread, make a green salad and an entire tray of cannoli, and expect me to eat all of it in a single sitting.
She opened the door for me, greeted me with a warm hug and a kiss, and invited me into her kitchen. “Are you hungry, baby?”
“No, I’m good, Ma.” I took a seat at the dining table.
As if she hadn’t heard me, she pulled a tray covered in foil from the oven and set it on the counter.
How did she pull that off?
“I had a frozen eggplant parmesan in the freezer.” She removed the foil cover and carried the dish to the dining table, placing it on a trivet in the center. Steam wafted from the dish, and it smelled like fresh tomatoes and breadcrumbs.
There was no such thing as not being hungry in this house.
She brought two plates and silverware and set the table. “Wine?”
“Sure.” I wasn’t going to fight it.
She uncorked a bottle and filled the two glasses before she served me a piece and then herself. “So how are you, baby?”
“Good, good.”
“How’s Aurelia?”
“The doctor said everything is going smoothly.”
“Oh, that’s great.”
“Hope it stays that way.”
“She has nice hips. I think it’ll be fine.”
She did have nice hips. That was how we got pregnant in the first place.
“Did you show her the restaurant?”
“I did. She’s on board, so I made an offer.”
“Oh, that’s great,” she said as she sliced her fork into the tender pieces of eggplant.
I ate half my piece to be polite, knowing I shouldn’t eat meals this heavy more than once a week. My dinners were usually simple, just fish and vegetables. “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?”
I’d decided to cut Aurelia out of the conversation entirely since this was a family matter.
I didn’t want my mom getting upset with Aurelia over what Beatrice shared with her.
But I didn’t lie either. “I get the impression that Beatrice has been having a hard time handling both of the boys on her own lately.”
“Being a single mother isn’t for the faint of heart,” she said before she took another bite. “Your father was around some of the time . . . but mostly none of the time.”
The resentment was starting to make a little more sense now. Because my mother had had to do it on her own and run a business, she wasn’t particularly empathetic toward someone else in the same position. “Yeah, I remember. I can understand why you wouldn’t want that life for your daughter.”
“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “It’s unfortunate that she chose it.”
“She didn’t choose it, Ma. That spineless prick left. I could have hunted him down and dragged him back here, but I don’t think the boys deserve to have a father who doesn’t want to be there.”
“Well said, Con.”
“Aurelia and I are going to start helping her a couple days a week. Just to give her a break.”
“Why?” She straightened in the chair. “You have your own on the way, and you’re opening a new restaurant. You don’t have time for something that’s not your responsibility.”
“Doesn’t matter. She needs help.”
“Don’t let her guilt you into free childcare—”
“Ma, I love you more than words, but where is this attitude coming from?”
My words knocked her into silence.
“I understand raising two shithead boys and a daughter alone must have been traumatic for you. Had to run a house and run a restaurant, and my father was an asshole. Honestly, I wish he had just left if he didn’t want to be there.
But don’t put that resentment on Beatrice.
A parent should always want better for their child, but what I’m hearing is you want the same for her. ”
She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Con, where is this coming from?”
I tried to think for a moment, to make sure I handled this delicately. “I think it’s too apparent that I’m your favorite, and I think that’s affecting Beatrice.”
My mother continued to stare at me. Didn’t even deny the accusation.
“I know it has nothing to do with how much you love her. You’re just disappointed by the choices she made in life and the outcome of those decisions.
I know you wanted better for her, but she ended up in the exact same situation as you—and that’s a hard pill for you to swallow.
I understand all of that, but you need to resolve those issues and let them go because of how it’s impacting your relationship with Beatrice. ”
“Did she say this to you?”
“It hurts her to see how much love you give to Aurelia when she barely gets your attention herself. And to be frank, it hurts me too. Because I’m a grown man who’s settled down with my own family, and I don’t need that support.
But she needs it more than ever. She hasn’t been able to get back on her feet because she hasn’t had the support even to try. ”
“How is that my fault—”
“It’s not, Ma. But I know if Aurelia woke up one morning and took off, you’d be there every day.
You wouldn’t want me to hire a nanny because you’d insist my child should be raised by family, not hired help.
I know emotions and perspectives and resentments are complicated and layered, and I’m just bringing it to your attention.
Because I know how much love is in your heart, and I know how much family means to you .
. . and you’ve just lost your way with Beatrice. ”
She tightened her arms over her chest, and her eyes flicked away, absorbing everything I said in a long stretch of silence. “The second she brought him home, I told her I didn’t like him.”
“I know.”
“I warned her this would happen.”
“I remember,” I said simply. “I didn’t like him either.”
“Told her so many times, and she married him anyway.”
I nodded in agreement.
“I’m surprised they lasted as long as they did.”
“Beatrice was young when she got married. She probably needed to grow up a little bit before she was mentally prepared for what she was getting into. But I also think she wanted to have a family because of how important family is to all of us. She wanted to settle down. She wanted a traditional life. She just chose the wrong guy, and it’s not right to punish her for that, Ma. ”
She still wouldn’t look at me, her eyes directed elsewhere, sitting in the heaviness of the subject.
“She made a mistake—and you made a mistake.”
Her eyes flicked back to me.
“It’s time to let that go and move on.”
“So you think I should talk to Beatrice about all of this?” she asked quietly.
“I think you should talk to her exactly the way you would talk to me. Don’t be distant. Don’t keep her at arm’s length. She’s an adult, but she needs her mother right now.”
She nodded before she gently rubbed her arm, looking elsewhere for a while as she considered everything I said.
It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have.
I didn’t want to risk our relationship, but I felt like I had to stick out my neck for my sister.
My mother listened to me differently than she did to other people, so I knew I was the one who would make her see what she’d been unaware of.
She was a good person and a loving mother—she’d just become blinded by her own trauma.
After a long stretch of silence, she looked at me again. “How have you been?”
I knew she wasn’t asking about my general life with Aurelia or the wedding or the pregnancy. She was asking about the event that had brought me back to Taormina in exile. “I have good days . . . and bad days.”
She gave a slight nod in understanding.
“A friend of mine came by last week.” An old friend—or a former friend—I didn’t know anymore. “Said things are bad and I’m a coward for staying here. President Barsetti came by and said the same.”
“Things are bad, Con.”
My eyes narrowed on her face.
“I watch the news in the morning when I do the books at home.” She didn’t share what she’d seen, like she didn’t want me to know.
I continued to bury my head in the sand, and that did make me feel like a coward. “He told me if I set foot in Rome, he wouldn’t just kill Aurelia . . . but my entire family. And trust me when I tell you he’d do it and enjoy every second of it.”
She took a slow breath when she realized the extent of his threat.
“If I could take him out before he figures out I’m there, then it’s done.
But if I fail or he knows I’m coming . .
. you’re all dead. He outsmarted me once, and that’s been traumatic for me.
So I’ll never be arrogant enough to assume I can outsmart him again.
My risk tolerance is different now that I have a woman and a child to think about. ”
She nodded in understanding. “You said you can’t set foot in Rome, but he never said anything about Florence.”
I stared at her.
“He wouldn’t expect you to go to his original territory. He probably wouldn’t see that coming. And I know you’re still close to Tommaso and Cosa Nostra. We could always go to Palermo and live under their protection.”
The rhythm of my heart changed. Now it pummeled like a speeding racehorse. “What are you saying, Ma?”
She scooted up to the table, her arms moving to the surface as she came closer to me.
“I’m saying . . . if you ever changed your mind, I would stand by you.
I never really understood what you did in Rome because I wouldn’t allow myself to think about it.
But now, I see what it’s like without you there to protect it . . . and it’s falling apart.”