17. Francesca
When I looked to the side, Mammahad finally closed her eyes, her book lay resting on her lap. I took it and placed it on the table beside her bed. It was eight o’clock and I was tired. I picked up my things and gave one last look at the tulips I’d bought today. They were in full bloom now.
I left the room and almost bumped into Dr. Conrad. “Francesca, everything all right?”
I smiled, “Mammawas great today.”
“As I told you, we take one?—”
“Day at a time,” I supplied.
“Why don’t you come and have a coffee with me downstairs. There is something I would like to discuss with you.”
Since I had nothing better to do on a Friday night, I followed Dr. Conrad into the cafeteria.
We sat at one of the round tables and he bought me a large cup of coffee, somehow, he figured I needed it. He waited until I practically drained the whole thing before he started.
“Have you ever thought about being a candidate for a liver transplant?”
“Can I?” I asked in surprise.
My mother was on the UNOS transplant list, but because of her stage and her complications, it wasn’t looking so good for her.
“Of course, you can, we would have to run some tests to see if you’re healthy, but judging from your age, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be.”
I stilled.
“You would have to undergo a series of tests and a diet, we have to make sure you haven’t been ingesting too much alcohol and of course, no drugs, but those are things we can check off.”
He went on explaining a series of exams I should do in order to be a viable donor to my mother, but I stopped when he mentioned the drugs. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t have the heart to do so. The first person who had a good impression of me was going to be truly disappointed, but then I was good at that. Maybe that was why my mother never felt the need to care for me. She knew I wasn’t worth it.
“—your father did them and he was out of here in no time.”
“Wait… hold on. What did you just say?” I interrupted him.
“I’m sorry, Francesca, I shouldn’t have said that. It was a mistake.”
Dr. Conrad was about to stand up when I grabbed his hand. It was the first time I ever did something like this out of pure despair.
“What did you say? My father underwent the exams?”
“Yes.” He answered gingerly.
“Were they negative?”
“I can’t disclose that.”
“Please, Doctor. I just need to know.”I pleaded.
He sighed. But I knew the answer. If the doctor was here talking to me and suggesting the transplant, was it because my father was negative? Which was good, right? It meant he couldn’t be a donor, and for some reason, I wouldn’t want his organ inside my mother. He was rotten inside, and I didn’t want a part of him in her.
“I’m sorry, Francesca. He was a match.”Dr. Conrad confessed.
“It’s fine…”
Wait. What?
“Positive?” I asked.
“I’ve said too much already. He asked to keep it a secret, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I believe it would help your mother if the donor was someone from her family. The list could take months, sometimes years.”
He was positive. My father was a match. A MATCH. And he still didn’t agree to the transplant. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Days ago, my mother had poured out her heart, telling me how much she loved the man, while he didn’t even care about her.
“I have to go.”
I didn’t know how I got here, but once the taxi stopped, I paid the driver and stepped out. The street before my father’s house was empty aside from the two guards posted by the gates. I stared at them for a while, knowing this was a terrible idea but not caring enough to stop.
My blood was boiling, my nails dug deep into my palms as I tried to keep my anger at bay. I had no idea what I was going to say to Donato Manci, but I knew I had to say something.
As I walked toward the gates, one of the guards came forward, his hand on his gun. “Francesca Manci. Open the damned gate before I make a scene.” I stopped by the guest entrance. The guard inspected me from head to toe like I was some knucklehead. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“Is he expecting you?” one of the idiots asked.
“I’m his daughter.” The words tasted rotten in my mouth, making me want to throw up.
He spoke into his radio and after a few seconds, he opened the gates. I took a deep breath and stepped through them and walked the path toward the house. Not stopping to analyze my surroundings.
“Francesca.” I knew the voice; it had been with me since I was a kid. I didn’t stop to talk to my old guard. “What are you doing?”
“Not now, Umberto.” My voice came out harsher than I wanted to.
“You shouldn’t have come.” That made me stop. I looked into his eyes and saw the plea in them.
“Where is he?” I asked softly.
“Francesca, he’s not in a good mood,” he warned, trying to make me change my mind.
“Neither am I,” I pointed out. “Where is he, Umberto? I’m going in there whether you want it or not.”
“He’s in his office.” Umberto sighed in defeat. “Enzo and Gianluca are there with him. Be careful, Francesca.”
Upon hearing Gianluca’s name, I shivered. Them being here wouldn’t stop me, but it made me falter for a second.
I marched toward Donato’s office and didn’t stop to knock or introduce myself. If I did, I might lose my courage, I simply pulled the doors open and stepped inside.
Donato was sitting in his office chair. He looked ten years older, his shirt strained against his belly and his thin hair did nothing to hide his balding head. He wore a Hugo Boss suit that looked two sizes too small. The scent of cigars and whiskey filled my nose, and sure enough, I saw both of them near him.
He had been talking to Enzo when I stepped in. Both his men looked at me, as did Marco whose eyes shot wide.
“What is this?” he barked when he saw me. “Who let you in?”
“I don’t need to be let in, father. This is my home after all, isn’t it?”
All eyes were on me like this was some grand spectacle. My father looked both enraged and annoyed. Enzo and Gianluca were both watching me with interest, the kind I did not want to attract.
“Francesca,” my father said, my name on his lips were offensive.
“We have matters to discuss.”
“Is that how you talk to your father?” he snapped. “Have you learned nothing?”
“Yes, father, I did learn quite a few things lately.” I chuckled dryly.
“I see you have finally figured out how to use that brain of yours.” He mocked.
“Took me a while, but better late than never.” I replied.
“I see your husband forgot to teach you manners, I’ll make sure to remedy that.”
“No need, I’m not here to stay,” I pointed out. “You can get off your high horse.”
Gianluca whistled and Enzo shook his head and looked at me like I had committed the worst mistake ever. No one had ever dared talk to Donato that way, at least no woman ever had. But if he thought I was going to cower from him, then he was wrong. Women in the Outfit were taught never to raise their voices to their husbands and fathers. Pity I didn’t give a shit.
I was used to the heavy hand of my late husband. After a while, his threats and beatings lost their power over me. The pain would still linger afterward, but the fear that once gripped me tightly lost its power.
“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll shut that whore’s mouth of yours.”
I chuckled dryly. “That’s old, Papa,” I provoked. “You thought I was a whore when I was five and wore a church dress. When I was fifteen and wore long dresses. It’s time to come up with another name for me, don’t you think?”
“My sharp-tongued daughter,” he smiled murderously.
I smiled.
“What do you want, Francesca? I have better things to do than listen to whatever comes out of your mouth.”
“You disgust me, Donato.” I lifted my head and stared at him down my nose. “You are a fucking asshole; you have no right to call yourself a man. You are nothing but a coward?—”
His chair scrapped against the floor and hit the wall behind him. Donato was up on his feet in an instant coming my way. My sweet little brother got up, too, and stood between my father and me.
“Get the fuck out of my face, boy!” But Marco stood his ground.
“Does he know?” I kept on going, once I opened my mouth I couldn’t stop. It was like opening the doors to a dam. “Does he know you could have given mother your liver, but you refused?”
“What?” Marco looked at me.
“Marco,” Donato warned but he didn’t move. He raised his hand and Marco flinched ready for the blow.
“Go ahead, hit him you coward. Hit your son for being a better man than you will ever be,” I provoked him further, knowing I was poking the bear with a very short stick.
Donato pushed Marco aside and he fell on the floor before he could reach me again. Enzo grabbed hold of my brother and didn’t let go. Donato stopped before me and grabbed my face with his meaty fingers.
“So brave, aren’t you?” He dug his fingers deeper. “So noble.” His putrid breath made me sick. He let go of me, and I didn’t have time to react before he slapped me hard.
I fell to the floor, hitting my knees, pain shot through them causing me to cry out. I clutched my left cheek; it felt like a million tiny needles were entering my skin. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of staying down. I stood up and stared right back at him, making sure Donato knew that in my heart, I carried enough hatred for him that I could fill an ocean.
“Out,” he snapped. “Before I kill you.”
“No,” I shouted. I turned to Marco, my brother had been thrashing in Enzo’s arms, but he didn’t have the strength to break free.
That’s when my father removed his gun from its holster and pointed at me. Air got stuck in my lungs and my heart stopped beating. I stared at the barrel of the gun, the black hole looking back. Donato’s finger was on the trigger. In the distance, I heard someone screaming, but the sound of my pulse was too loud in my ears.
“You won’t shoot,” I managed, my voice calmer then I expected.
“Won’t I?” he smiled.
“Y-you need me,” I croaked, and that’s when I realized he did need me, he was going to marry me off in a few months, he couldn’t simply shoot me.
Cassio might have changed his mind about forcing me back to my father’s house, but in the end, it wouldn’t matter, Donato would have what he wanted in the first place. Which was me.
He lowered the gun. “The next time I see you it will be at your wedding. Now get out of my face.”
I turned to leave knowing it was better to, at the door I stopped and turned around to face him again. Donato was heading back to his seat and threw the gun on the table.
“I don’t care what you do to me, as long as you die a painful and agonizing death.”
Without looking back, I left the room. My hands shook, and my cheek hurt from where he slapped me. I knew I was moments from having a panic attack. I had gambled with my life, and I could have lost.
I heard the crashing of glass against the wall and Donato was screaming. I choked on a sob and left the house, not stopping to talk to Umberto who had been waiting for me on the porch.
“Francesca.” Umberto grabbed my upper arm making me stop. He looked older, too. His forehead was filled with wrinkles and his once dark hair was now peppered with gray strands.
“I’m fine,” I said as my lungs fought to function.
He looked at me from head to toe and his gaze stopped on my cheek. Umberto had seen my father beat me countless times when I was young. He had tried to stop him once and he had been punished for it. I begged him to never try again.
“Let me take a look at it.” He tried to touch me, but I pulled away.
“I’m fine.” I tried to sound as though I were. Maybe if I said it a hundred times, I would truly be fine. “I need to leave, Umberto.”
“Let me take you?—”
“No,” I snapped and then took a deep breath. “No,” I said again, trying to conjure a smile. “Thank you, but I need to be alone right now,” I assured him.
Umberto walked me toward the gate, and I did my best not to lean into him and seek his comfort. When I was a kid, I used to dream that he was my father. He’d always treated me as a father should, with love and affection.
When the gates closed, I watched them for a while. Umberto remained on the other side looking at me. I knew he wanted to follow, but he had sworn an oath to my father and the Outfit. Not wanting to make things harder on him, I turned and began walking with no destination in mind.
Night had fallen, and the sun was no longer offering its warmth. The streets near Donato’s house were deserted.
The longer I walked, the quicker the scenes from tonight replayed in my head. My cheek was still burning, and I was pretty sure one of his rings had cut my skin. I didn’t dare check if I was bleeding.
Suddenly it all went black and all I saw was the barrel of a gun. My heart hit my ribcage beating painfully against it. No matter how deeply I inhaled, air wouldn’t fill my lungs. My body vibrated with pain. I fumbled with my phone and dialed the number that had been stuck in my head.