131. Riley
ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE
RILEY
They have given me enough anti-anxiety medicine to numb the pain, but not enough to end my life. I”m sure this was Gabriel”s doing, certain that he and Gio gave Mrs. Scalzi instructions on when to give me pills, and when to refuse my pleas for more.
I”m not even fully sure what day it is, or how long it”s been since Gabriel walked out. It feels like an eternity, but without a cell phone or a calendar, it”s anyone”s guess.
Other than my crushing depression, everything is going to plan. Mrs. Scalzi is feeding — or trying to feed — me some of the most delicious Italian food ever. I resisted at first, but she won me over with some cannoli.
Now I”m eating everything in sight, hoping to fill the void inside my body with food. I”d love a drink, but they”re keeping all booze from me. Probably due to the pills.
I have no access to the internet, to television, to radio. There”s an old CD player in my room, with some discs from the 90s. I wonder vaguely if they”re Gio”s, but then I realize I don”t care and resume staring out the window from the little bed.
Even though it”s summer, I haven”t seen the sun. Or at least it feels like that.
One morning, I pad downstairs in my fuzzy socks, the scratchy leggings, and the Red Sox shirt. I haven”t taken the shirt off, mostly because I still think it smells faintly of Gabriel. It”s as if he transferred his essence to me when we hugged for the final time.
Mrs. Scalzi is in a floral housedress and an apron. ”Buongiorno,” she says, beaming. ”I made you the toast and Nutella you like, plus a nice latte.”
”Thank you.” I don”t have a lot to say to Mrs. Scalzi. She”s a nice lady and all, but honestly, I don”t feel like uttering more than a few words at a time. It seems like way too much effort.
I”m halfway through my latte and considering a morning nap when a woman walks in carrying a shopping bag from an expensive department store. She”s got short, dark hair in a pixie cut and is wearing a dark blue sheath dress and black heels, like she”s going to work in an office. I figure she”s about my age, but a lot more put together and organized.
Then again, I”m at rock bottom.
”Hi Mom.” She kisses Mrs. Scalzi on the cheek. My heart tugs for my own mother.
Whose funeral is probably happening right about now...
”And you must be Riley Murphy,” the woman says, pulling out a chair from the kitchen table. ”I”m Cinzia Scalzi. Gio”s sister.”
”Hi,” I say shyly, acutely aware that I haven”t bathed or brushed my hair in maybe days.
”We need to have a long discussion. I”m here to help you.” She points to the bag, which she”s set on the floor near my chair. ”You”ll find clothes and shoes in there. Why don”t you go shower and change, then we”ll chat over coffee at my favorite place down the street.”
”What”s-a wrong with my coffee?” Mrs. Scalzi says, gesturing. She”s grinning, and I can”t help but smile, too.
”Your coffee is delicious,” I say, taking another quick sip.
”We need to chat in private,” Cinzia says. ”And we don”t have a lot of time. Go.”
I”m not sure how I feel about being bossed around by a woman my age, but I”m grateful for some direction so I follower her orders.
The bell chimesas Cinzia pushes the coffee shop door open. She chose well — this place is charming. Like everything else in this neighborhood, it”s in a historical Back Bay building, genteel and hushed.
The smell of espresso hangs in the air, mingling with the comforting scent of pastries. I tug at the hem of the black dress she picked out for me. It fits perfectly, comfortable yet business-like, a far cry from the worn Red Sox shirt I”d been living in.
I miss Gabriel”s scent, however.
Cinzia waves me to a table near the window. She sits across from me, her eyes intense yet reassuring. ”Riley, I”m an attorney at the same firm as my brother, Gio. He and Gabriel worked on this plan.
”Gabriel...” I murmur, feeling a pang in my chest.
”But since I”m the legal mastermind of the firm...” She smirks. ”Kidding, sort of. Gio”s the consigliere, but I”m the brains. I figured you needed a woman to help.”
I shoot her a wan smile. I like her confidence. ”Thanks.”
”Gabriel and I organized everything. This is your new passport.” Cinzia slides a canary yellow folder across the table, and my breath catches as I see the name printed on it: ANNA MURPHY. Anna, my middle name.
My fingers tremble as I open it, revealing a photo of myself looking eerily normal. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
”We”ve got a red-eye flight to London tonight,” Cinzia continues. ”Once we land, you”ll start your new life. I”m going with you. We”ll be flying private, and I”ll take you to your flat, and introduce you to your new boss.”
London? A new life? It all feels too surreal, yet here it is, handed to me on a silver platter.
”A job? Already?”
”You don”t have to start for a couple of weeks. But Gabriel and I thought it would be best for you to jump right in. Take your mind off... everything.”
I nod weakly. How am I going to do this when I can barely get out of bed? ”I guess, yeah.”
Cinzia leans in, her voice low and urgent. ”Riley, this is your chance for a fresh start. You need to let go of everything here in the United States. Your past life, Gabriel, his business, your parents. It”s all behind you now. We”ll make sure you”re safe. One of Gabriel”s stipulations in surrendering was that the feds don”t come after you.”
I nod, pressing my hand to my chest, trying to stifle the tumult of emotions. That”s all I need, is authorities wanting to talk — or worse.
”Thank you.”
”I”m sure you have a ton of questions. I”ll go grab us coffee.”
I nod and watch as she effortlessly moves to the counter. This is a lot to take in. Too much.
When she returns, I unleash a barrage of questions.
”Where will I work? Where will I live? Who is my boss? Do I have roommates? London is expensive. How am I going to afford it? Can”t I stay in the US?”
”Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Riley,” Cinzia laughs softly, setting the steaming cups down. ”One at a time.”
I take a deep breath, trying to gather my jumbled thoughts. ”Sorry.”
”Your job is with a reputable firm, dealing mostly with corporate law. It”s not overly taxing but demanding enough to keep you occupied,” she explains, a confident edge to her voice. ”You”ll start doing small tasks like filing, then if you like it there, we”ll move you to marketing. I understand you have incredible writing skills, and those are always in demand.”
”Marketing?” I grimace. I didn”t go to school for that, but it”s probably the best I can do, considering I”ve only been a low-paid reporter. I suspect a marketing job at a big law firm in London will pay way more.
”Yay,” I say sarcastically.
Cinzia ignores me. ”And your living situation is sorted. You”ll have a cozy flat in a secure neighborhood. Your boss is a delightful woman named Kristin. She”s expecting you and willing to guide you through the transition,” Cinzia says, her tone reassuring.
I nod. I”m glad to hear my boss isn”t a man.
”And as for expenses, everything”s covered. Gabriel ensured you”d have enough to settle in comfortably for a very long time. Don”t worry about that,” she assures me with a gentle smile.
”Why London though? Why can”t I stay in the US?” I ask, still overwhelmed by the abruptness of it all.
”London is safe for you. It”s part of the deal Gabriel made,” she answers cryptically, a flicker of seriousness in her eyes.
”Why do I have to start working right away? I”m not ready for any of that, for people, for getting dressed, for showering every day,” I protest, feeling the weight of anxiety press down on my chest. ”I can barely function. Today”s the first day I”ve put on real clothes.”
”It”s better this way, Riley. Trust me. You”ll need a distraction, a purpose. It”s for your own good.”
The mention of Gabriel pulls at my heartstrings, igniting a surge of emotions. ”What about Gabriel? What”s going to happen to him?”
Cinzia”s gaze softens, a sense of understanding in her eyes. ”Gabriel”s situation is complicated. He”s facing some serious consequences but made sure you”d be out of harm”s way.”
”Can I talk with him? Please?” I plead.
”Riley, you need to focus on your own future now. Gabriel is strong. He knows what he”s doing,” Cinzia says. ”It”s best if there”s no contact between the two of you. At least until he”s sentenced. Which could be a while.”
I bite my lip, nodding hesitantly, the unease still gripping me tightly. If anyone knows how slow the justice system is, it”s me.
”Finish your coffee. We need to head to the airport soon. It”s time to embark on your new chapter,” Cinzia suggests, nudging the cup towards me.
As the warmth of the coffee seeps into me, I try to swallow the fear and uncertainty, reminding myself that this new beginning, as abrupt and bewildering as it seems, might just be the lifeline I need.