8. Moms, Messages and Debriefing
Chapter eight
Moms, Messages and Debriefing
FITZ
Da asks Cormac to help him tuck the twins in tonight. I know it's because mom wants to talk to me alone.
Is she angry with me?
I could have stopped Kenny Jr. and the other eighth graders from hurting Sadie without doing all the damage I did. And mom knows it. Da has been training me all my life. I know exactly how much pressure to exert.
Mom has to know I broke Kenny Jr's arm on purpose. That fight wasn't just about what they were doing to my friend. I would have stopped Kenny Jr. and the other boys hurting Sadie no matter what, but it was a chance to give them a message too.
"Touch her again and I will break every one of your fingers. You keep talking smack about my da and I'll cut out your tongue." I pull away, so Kenny has to look in my eyes. "Am I lying?"
Sobbing in pain, Kenny Jr. shakes his head, his eyes wide with fear.
"From now on, you treat all the girls with respect, but especially, Sadie, yeah?"
This time he nods like Cormac's favorite bobblehead.
It's a good memory.
I'm not like my da in every way. I care about a lot of people, not just my mom, da and the littles. But they're the ones that matter most. And I am like my da because I will do whatever it takes to protect them.
Last winter when we were visiting mamó and daideó in Ireland, my cousins teased me about bringing Gobby and Miles with us. Gavin said something about me and my da going overboard when it came to our pets.
Shelley gets a weird look on her face and tells the others to leave it alone. She's Uncle Kyren's oldest.
Lais is fifteen and doesn't like when his sister bosses him around because she's only two years older. He glares at her and then asks me, "You know what your da did because of Toby, don't you?"
Toby was my da's dog and he's told us kid's stories about what they did together when he was a kid. It always makes me sad to know my da never had another dog after Toby. But my grandparents treat my da differently than they do my aunts and uncles. And I guess they did that when da was a kid too.
I just stare at Lais. He's looking at me like he can't wait for me to ask. So, I don't.
"I want to know," úna, his younger sister, says. "Tell us."
"Shut it, Lais," Shelley orders bossily. "úna's too young to hear about that."
"I am not!" úna yells. "I'm only a year younger than Fitz. If you don't tell me, I'll ask Uncle Mick himself."
"Good luck with that," I mutter.
My da doesn't tell his stories about Toby to anyone but me and the littles.
But all my older cousins look nervous, like they don't want my da to know they were talking about him. It's stupid. What do they think da is going to do? Tell on them to their parents? Da's not like that.
"Okay, I'll tell ya but you better keep your trap shut about it," Lais threatens.
"I know how to keep a secret." úna crosses her arms over her skinny chest and glares at Lais.
"A drunk driver hit Toby with his car and he died. Your da found the man and killed him." My cousin looks at me, waiting for my reaction.
I shrug. That's the life. When people betray the mob, they die.
"Your da was only eleven, the same age as úna," Shelley points out, like I wouldn't know how old my da was when his dog died.
"Da doesn't give second chances." Except to his family, but that's different. That drunk driver killed da's dog. "If someone ran over Gobby or Miles, I'd want to kill them too."
"But you wouldn't do it," Gavin, Uncle Adam's youngest, says.
"Nah. My da would do it for me." Da will never let anyone get away with hurting us and he would see it as a life for a life. "Miles and Gobby are part of our family."
"They're pets," Shelley says, sounding shocked.
I shrug.
Eoghan sighs. "I wish I was more like your da."
He's sixteen and usually quiet. Uncle Adam's oldest, Eoghan is supposed to be the boss someday, like me. Only I don't think he wants to be. His brother Gavin is harder, but he doesn't control his emotions as well.
A boss has to be able to set emotion aside to make choices for the mob. But we never put the mob above those closest to us.
Both mom and da say that.
"Why would you want to be like Uncle Mick?" Shelley asks all disapproving.
I bristle. My da's the best.
"Uncle Mick does what he wants. He doesn't care if daideó thinks he's stupid." Eoghan frowns. "Or weak," he adds real quiet.
"Your da tells you that you're stupid?" I ask.
My da would never.
"No, but da thinks my drawing is stupid." Eoghan looks away. "It won't help me be a good mob boss one day."
I think about that for a minute like my da taught me to.
Think before you speak. Read what people aren't saying in the way they hold their body, the tone of their voice, the expression on their face. My da is kind of like a superhero because he sees more than anyone else. Even my mom.
She loves people with her whole heart, and she has a lot of compassion. My da says so. But she doesn't watch people like my da does for every single tell. He puts it all together with the words they say. And a lot of times my da sees things people are trying to hide.
So, I think about what my cousin says. I think about the sketchpad that's always someplace close by when he's around and how the sides of his hands are always black with charcoal from drawing when his da isn't around. I've seen some of Eoghan's drawings and they're good.
He drew a picture of my mom once and da asked if he could buy it.
Uncle Adam said, "Don't be stupid. If you want one of Eoghan's little pictures, he'll give it to you."
Da paid Eoghan two-hundred pounds and shut his older brother up with a look.
That drawing is framed and hanging on the wall of da's office.
Enoch is a really good artist too, but no one calls his paintings little pictures. Grandda tells him he's clever and talented. But I don't think Uncle Adam ever says stuff like that to Eoghan.
I look at my cousin and I say what my da has told me many times. "No one else gets to tell you who and what you are."
"The mob does," Eoghan disagrees. "Being my da's oldest son defines who and what I am."
"Don't you want to be boss someday?" Shelley asks, sounding worried.
"I do." Eoghan's tone and the expression in his eyes match. He means it. "I just wish that didn't mean I have to give up my drawing."
"Why does it?" I ask.
Gavin looks at me like I'm the stupid one. "It makes him look weak."
"Do you think the Don of the Genovese is weak?" I ask.
Uncle Miceli is almost as ruthless as my da and one of our strongest allies. He's not really my uncle. He's married to my mom's cousin, but they're more like sisters, like she is with Aunt Fi. I call Róise aunt and Miceli uncle now, because he told me to.
Da said it was okay, like me calling Brice, Connor and Rory uncles. Family isn't always who you are born to, but who you choose to allow in your inner circle.
My da definitely trusts my honorary uncles more than he does his own brothers by blood.
"He's scary AF," Gavin says, trying to sound cool.
But he's right. "Yeah. Almost as scary as my da," I agree. "He paints like Enoch."
Enoch is Hope's son. Hope is married to my grandda, so technically, Enoch would be my step-uncle, or something. But I call him my cousin. Family is complicated.
Da says that sometimes too.
Eoghan looks shocked. "He does?"
"Sure. Aunt Róise says he'd probably go on a killing spree every other month if he didn't." I don't think Uncle Miceli would go on a killing spree, but I think he'd kill a lot more people that annoy him.
"My da doesn't think made men should do anything soft, like draw or paint," Eoghan grumbles.
"Sometimes you have to wait to be the man you're meant to be." Like my da is meant to be boss but he has to wait until my grandda steps down.
"I'm not a man," Eoghan says. "Not yet."
Shelley frowns. "But you can't let go of the man you're meant to be, even if your da doesn't understand that being an artist doesn't make you weak."
Gavin scowls at Shelley. "Our da is smart. Even daideó says Eoghan has to stop drawing once he gets inducted."
"Being smart doesn't mean you know everything," Shelley claps back. "Not even daideó knows everything. I bet he doesn't know that the don paints."
"So, tell him." Una grabs Eoghan's sketch book and starts flipping through it. "I like your drawings."
"Maybe your da could tell him," Eoghan suggests, looking at me.
"I'll ask him to," I promise.
"If you ask him, he'll do it," Una states with conviction.
My other cousins nod.
"He wouldn't if it would cause a problem for Uncle Miceli." His painting used to be a big secret, but now it's not.
Once it got out in New York that he paints, he did one of a man on his knees with his throat cut and another man standing above him with a bloody knife.
The men in the painting are in silhouette, so you can't tell for sure who they are, but the way the man with the knife stands, you know he's Uncle Miceli.
He has it hanging in his office behind his desk, so everyone who meets with him sees it.
"But it won't, will it?" Shelley asks.
I shake my head but look at Eoghan with a question. "Won't your da listen if you tell him?"
"Da doesn't listen to me like Uncle Mick listens to you." Eoghan frowns and mutters, "Sometimes I wish my da was more like your da."
I don't understand that, because I never wish the same thing. My da is the best man I know. He is the best da. He is the strongest mobster. I never want my da to be different or like someone else's.
There's a soft knock on my door before it opens and mom peeks around it. "Do you have a minute?"
That's one of those weird questions grownups ask when the answer is obvious. What she really wants to know is do I want to talk and I do. Even if I'm nervous about what she's going to say to me.
I never want to let my mom down.
Mom comes in and sits next to me on the bed and I move to sit up against the back headboard.
She takes my hand in hers like she does sometimes and looks at me with that mom-love that makes everything okay no matter what. "Your da told me you're worried you could do something that would disappoint me or make me ashamed of you."
I jerk my head in a nod. I'm not like her. Mom can be hard when it comes to protecting our family, but she's a lot softer than me and da.
"Fitz, I am so proud of you for how you handled today." Mom squeezes my hand.
"Even though I gave Kenny Jr. and the others a beat down to punish them?"
Mom nods, her expression not changing. "Some mothers would tell their sons violence is never the answer. But you're being raised in the mob and you know that in our life, sometimes violence is the answer. It's not always, but I trust you to know when that's the case."
"I had to give them a message."
"After what those boys tried to do to Sadie, she needed to see that the men in this mob protect women from that kind of harm. You needed to prove to those boys that they were weak, not strong like you."
Pride fills my chest and makes my heart beat harder at mom's words, because I know she means them. "Strong men don't prove it by ganging up on someone weaker."
"You're right, son. That's real weakness and it's a weakness that can't exist in the mob. It puts us all at risk."
Sometimes mom calls me son instead of the Irish endearments and it always means something special. It's like she's laying claim to me, reminding me that she's as much a part of me as da is.
But I don't think mom would have broken Kenny Jr.'s arm.
"I didn't want to disappoint you, but I had to set them straight. Not just about Sadie, but about da." I'm not going to tell mom what I threatened Kenny Jr. with though.
"You would never do anything that would make me disappointed in you," mom assures me. "You are not that person, Fitz. You are strong and smart and good.
I like that my mom doesn't say I could never do anything to disappoint her. We both know that's not true. There are many things I could do that would disappoint my mom, but I would never do them.
Suddenly everything clicks inside me. Just like my mom accepts my da for who he is and just like my mom loves her da, even though sometimes grandda is not so easy to love, she loves me the same. I don't have to be perfect.
It's okay for me to act on my own instincts and not on hers.
"Uncle Adam thinks Eoghan's drawing makes him look weak."
"Is that why you wanted your da to tell him about Miceli's painting?" mom asks.
She's smart like that.
"Yeah." I frown. "It didn't help though."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"He made Eoghan switch to another class when he found out he was taking art as an elective." Gavin texted me after because Eoghan tore up his drawings and threw all of his sketchpads and charcoals away.
He didn't get what the big deal was.
I do though. Because even when I was worried I'd disappoint her, I didn't ever think mom would want me to give up parts of myself like Uncle Adam wants Eoghan to.
"I love you for you who you are, Fitz," mom promises like she knows why I brought up Eoghan.
She probably does.
"Thanks mom. I'll probably do things like this again," I warn her. "Sometimes they're necessary.
Mom nods. "Yes, they are."
"You're not mad I sent two of them to the emergency? You don't think I lost control?" Because I didn't.
"No. Your father has taught you exactly how hard to hit and where. He has taught you what causes the most pain and how to disable without causing pain. I know that everything you did today was intentional."
"It's not how you would have handled them."
"Maybe, maybe not." Mom smiles wryly. "But I do know that after I learned what they did to Sadie and how they've been bullying her, I was glad you did."
"May I join yis?" da asks from the doorway. "Now that the littles are in bed, I need to debrief you, a mhac."
"This can't wait for tomorrow?" mom asks.
"Fitz will sleep better after he tells me what he thinks I need to know."
Da is right. He understands how my brain works, even better than mom sometimes.
It only takes about thirty minutes, but by the time da is finished asking questions, I've told him everything I think is important and stuff I didn't realize was. Like the fact that it wasn't an accident I was in the boy's locker room during lunch.
One of the eighth-grade boys who hangs around Kenny Jr. told me he saw the guys dragging Sadie down the hall toward the boys' locker room. I didn't trust that he would tell on his friends to me and was prepared for it to be a trap.
I wanted the fight I figured was coming.
I didn't realize the trap they were setting was for my da.
And they didn't realize that even the four of them, a year older and most of them bigger, couldn't match a single seventh grader trained by my da.