34. Emilio
Tired of lying down while still covered with body fluids, Griselda and I both agreed it was time to wash up and we decided to do it together.
We walked into the bathroom hand in hand, the familiar comfort of her touch grounding me. It was strange how even the mundane task of showering became something more when shared with someone you love.
We turned on the water, letting it warm up. The sound of it splashing against the tiles was soothing. As we stepped under the spray, the warmth enveloped us, a gentle caress against our bodies.
We took turns lathering each other with soap and as the water rinsed away the suds, it felt like it was also washing away the worries and anxieties of the day. Griselda stood on her tiptoes to press a tender kiss on my lips, a simple yet meaningful gesture that filled my heart with warmth.
Griselda and I finally emerged from the warmth of the shower, the droplets of water still glistening on our skin. We quickly dried off and threw on some cozy, casual clothes, not bothering with anything too fancy since it was already late in the evening.
”I”m thinking of whipping up a quick bruschetta. Does that sound good to you?”
WE moved to the kitchen and I pulled out a loaf of crusty bread from the pantry and started slicing it into thick, uneven pieces.
I toasted them lightly, and the aroma of the freshly baked bread began to fill the room, mingling with the scent of the brewing coffee.
Griselda leaned against the counter with her eyes fixed on me.
”What are you going to do now?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.
I paused in my actions.
”I don”t know,” I admitted, the heaviness of my uncertainty tainting the warmth of the kitchen. ”It”s not easy. I can”t just dissolve the family. It would create chaos, not just for us but for so many others as well.”
There was no doubt that the word had spread about my newfound role as Don, and it was inevitable that our enemies would be on high alert, ready to stir up trouble. The mafia”s protection had shifted from an inconvenience to essential.
Walking away from the mafia wasn”t something I could afford now, especially with the added security and peace of mind it provided for myself, Griselda, and our imminent bundle of joy.
She reached out to touch my arm, her gentle caress a silent reassurance that we were in this together.
”I understand,” she whispered, her voice soft yet laced with worry. ”But I worry too, Emilio. I want us to have a future where we don”t have to constantly look over our shoulders, where we can live without fear.”
I turned to face her fully, the corners of my lips tugging into a faint smile as I reached for the chopped tomatoes and basil leaves, ready to assemble the bruschetta.
”We will find a way,” I assured her, my voice steady. ”I promise you, Griselda, I won’t let anything harm you or our child.”
After drizzling a generous amount of olive oil over the toasted bread and layering it with the vibrant mix of tomatoes and basil, I finished preparing the bruschetta and served it between Griselda and me. The fragrant aroma wafted through the air, momentarily diverting our attention from the weight of our conversation.
As we savored the flavors, I couldn”t shake off the growing curiosity about her family”s history.
In between bites, I gently broached the subject of her mother, asking if she had made any decisions about when to see her. Griselda”s lips curved into a slight smile, but I could detect a hint of the troubles that had been clouding her thoughts.
”It”s like we”re stuck in this loop of never-ending problems,” she sighed, her voice tinged with a mix of weariness and determination. She continued after a pause, her voice laced with gratitude.
”Thank you, I appreciate it, Emilio. It means a lot.” She paused again, her fingers tracing the rim of her plate thoughtfully. ”I”m not sure when I”ll be ready to see her.” She confessed.
As we continued to enjoy the meal, I felt compelled to bring up the topic of her father.
”I still haven”t been able to find much about your dad,” I admitted, a trace of frustration seeping into my voice. ”Even Lucas would have dug something up by now. It”s like he”s a ghost.”
Her gaze remained fixed on her plate, lost in the depths of her memories.
”My mother rarely spoke about him, and I never had the chance to know him,” she revealed softly, her voice carrying the weight of a past left unexplored.
I took a bite of the bruschetta, the crisp texture of the bread complementing the burst of flavors.
”Do you ever wish to get to know him?” I asked, my curiosity mingling with a desire to understand her perspective. ”If you had the opportunity to meet him, would you be open to work at building a relationship with him?”
She paused, delicately setting down her fork before responding.
”No, I don”t think so.” She continued, giving a poignant explanation, ”regardless of his reasons, I can”t think of any justification for leaving us, for leaving my mother to shoulder all the responsibility on her own for all those years.”
I nodded in silent acknowledgment, the weight of her pain palpable in the shared silence.
”Have you ever thought about meeting him, though?” I inquired gently, hoping to unravel the complexities of her feelings.
She met my gaze, her eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that words couldn”t fully capture.
”No, I don’t want to meet him,” she replied firmly. ”I just want to uncover the truths that have been hidden from me and if finding him leads to that, then so be it; but meeting him face-to-face, inviting him into my life, is not part of the plan.”
”But what if he wants to come back into your life, into your mom”s life?” I probed further, careful not to impose but genuinely seeking to understand her stance.
”I wouldn’t agree,” she stated firmly, her voice unwavering. ”His absence has left a void that can”t simply be erased. I can”t just let him waltz back into our lives as if nothing happened.”
Thinking of another angle, my curiosity tugged at me, compelling me to ask the next question.
”What if your mom is ready to accept him back?” Thinking of the tangled emotions that must have haunted her mother all these years.
Griselda chewed thoughtfully; her brow furrowed in contemplation.
”I can”t speak for my mom or dictate her choices,” she began, her words measured. ”But I can”t see why she would want to let him back into her life. He chose to walk away, to leave us to fend for ourselves. I don”t see how she could forgive that.”
I continued eating quietly, my mind lingering on Griselda”s dad and the mysteries surrounding him. Our lives always seemed tangled in some drama. On top of my challenges within the mafia, now I had to figure out who her dad was.
Then Griselda spoke up, firm in her decision.
”I”ve made up my mind,” she declared. ”I”m going to see my mom tomorrow.”
Her sudden determination caught me off guard, but I could see she was resolute.
”I”ll drop you off,” I offered, wanting to make sure she felt supported.
She tried to brush it off, but I insisted until she relented.
”I”ll pick you up afterward.”
There didn”t seem to be any break for us. The more we tried to sort things out, the more complicated they got. It was like we were stuck in this endless loop of problems, and it was starting to wear me down.
As I chewed on the bruschetta, it became a brief distraction from the mess we were dealing with. Looking over at Griselda, her thoughtful expression tugged at my heart, making me want to protect her from all the craziness.
The clinking of our forks and knives against the plates was the only sound in the room, echoing the weight of the things we couldn”t say out loud. With each bite, I silently promised myself that I would get to the bottom of this whole dad situation for her sake. No matter how tough things got, she wasn”t going to face it alone.
The following day, I found myself settled into my office after dropping Griselda off at her mom’s place. Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting a warm, inviting glow over the sleek contemporary furnishings and tasteful artwork that adorned the walls.
Enzo sat across from me on one of several comfortable sofas; the worry etched on his face mirroring my concerns.
We were knee-deep in a discussion about the issue of my newfound role in the mafia. Enzo leaned forward, his brows furrowed.
”So, what”s the play now, Emilio?” he asked, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
I took a moment, letting my gaze wander over the ever-moving city below, before replying, ”Same as what I told Griselda. It”s not a simple puzzle to solve. With news of my new role spreading like wildfire among the families, it”s like putting a spotlight on our every move. Right now, the mafia is sheltering us.”
Enzo nodded. ”It”s a tricky web you’re caught in,” he mused. ”But what about the long term? You can”t keep balancing on this wire forever.”
”I don”t plan on staying on the fence forever,” I answered while looking out the windows. ”This wasn”t meant to be mine. It was supposed to be Carlo”s, and the role will naturally revert to him.”
Enzo regarded me with a skeptical gaze.
”Have you spoken to Carlo since then?” he inquired. ”I”m pretty sure he”s not exactly thrilled with the turn of events.”
A wry smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I shook my head in response.
”Haven”t had the pleasure,” I admitted, the strained relationship with both my uncle and my brother weighing heavily on my mind, in addition to everything else. ”I haven”t spoken to either of them since the will reading. But the silence won”t last forever, especially since I”ll have to make a trip to the family house soon enough.”
Enzo let out a sigh. ”And what about Griselda?”
I let out a small sigh.
”She”s the reason I”m taking things slow,” I confessed, the thought of her safety intertwined with every decision I made. ”Can”t afford to mess up, not when it”s not just her anymore.”
Enzo”s curiosity was piqued, and he raised an eyebrow.
”Not just her? Who else is there?” he probed.
A wide grin spread across my face.
”She”s pregnant,” I revealed, the thrill of the news reverberating through me despite the surrounding drama.
Enzo”s eyes widened to the size of saucers.
”Congratulations,” Enzo managed, his shock still evident. I couldn”t help but chuckle at his reaction. The sheer incredulity on his face was almost comical. ”Didn”t think I”d ever settle down, huh?” I teased, a playful glint in my eye as I savored the moment.
Enzo”s response was typically candid.
”Can”t say I did,” he retorted, his straightforward nature causing my amusement to wane, replaced by a good-natured eye roll, but beneath the skepticism, I knew he was happy for me.
”I’ve now got two people to worry about,” I remarked.
Enzo nodded in silent understanding, and then, as if on cue, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen before answering, ”It”s Lucas.”
I gestured for him to pick it up, slightly wondering what happened for him to call.
Enzo swiftly picked up the call, and as the seconds ticked by, his eyes lifted to mine once more, conveying the message that it was, indeed, Lucas on the line.
”Lucas couldn”t get through to you,” Enzo relayed.
The memory of switching off my phone amidst the barrage of congratulatory calls and messages from fellow mafia leaders came back to me.
”I had my phone off,” I explained.
Enzo swiftly relayed my message to Lucas, emphasizing my presence in the room. With a deft motion, he activated the speakerphone, allowing Lucas”s voice to fill the space. His words were measured, laden with a hint of unease, which made me sit up.
”Boss, I found Griselda”s father,” he began, the weight of his discovery palpable in the charged atmosphere. ”Check the data on your phone, Enzo.”
There was a crackle of anticipation in the air.
”Thank you, Lucas. You did a great job,” I commended brusquely.
Enzo hung up, his fingers swiftly navigating through the information that Lucas had sent him. I watched intently, my anticipation mingling with a growing sense of unease as Enzo”s expression underwent a marked change. Surprise gave way to shock, which then morphed into an unreadable expression.
As my sense of foreboding escalated, I couldn”t contain my growing apprehension.
”Spit it out, Enzo,” I urged.
Enzo”s face contorted with a mix of emotions that I couldn”t quite place, his expression reflecting the weight of the discovery he had just made.
”Her father,” he began slowly, his voice laden with an undeniable sense of gravity, ”He”s part of the mafia. He”s Don of the Esposito family.”