AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The cops came, letting me go in the ambulance to the hospital with my husband before questioning me in the hall while Dante was in surgery. The bullet thankfully missed anything important, the wound mostly superficial. I was told a centimeter or two to the left and it would have been a much grimmer tale.
In the hospital waiting room, I explained how my husband and I were honoring the life of his deceased father, how his nephew was going through some things with his father in prison and now his grandfather's death. I showed the bruise on my cheek, having intentionally washed my face in the bathroom to remove the pile of concealer, and explained that Paulie was so off kilter, he hit me just a few days prior.
Jason was my witness to the assault, confirming that Paulie had hoped to marry me and he lost his mind when he found out about my secret wedding to his uncle.
Once they were done interviewing me, the police walked off and I watched the detectives speak with first Teresa, who sat with a handkerchief to her face, then with Alfredo Russo, who showed up about two hours after we arrived at the hospital. According to Marco, he stayed behind handling cleanup and getting the guests home safely.
After a suspicious handshake between the officers and my grandfather, they left, leaving me a voicemail stating that I may need me to come down at some point to give a formal statement, but all seemed clear on their end and I was free to go without having the awful circumstance on my record.
Horrible circumstance out of your control, they said.
Teresa looks around the room, at the television that is broadcasting the local news. They’re currently showing a group of reporters right outside this very hospital with a bright-yellow headline at the bottom that reads Carluccio heir shot by nephew at private celebration of life, one death reported at the Carluccio home.
“It would have happened eventually. It’s not like . . .” She looks around, avoiding my eyes. “He wasn’t really mine.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I say, moving from Dante and walking to hold her hand. “You said it yourself, you spent years treating him like your own. Like he was your son. That can’t be easy, seeing what you saw. Losing him. If . . .” I look over at Dante, knowing that while I don’t like admitting this out loud, he probably understands better than most, with his own complex relationship with his father. “If something were to happen to Shane, it might be a relief at the end of the day, but I’d still mourn him. Especially if I saw what you did.”
Teresa sighs, gripping my hand a bit harder before letting go and walking toward large window.
“They’re all here to catch a sound bite, aren’t they?” she says, looking down at the reporters below.
“Marco will escort you out the back, get you home without seeing any of them,” Dante says. “He’ll be waiting for you outside.”
“Do we have someone making a statement at all?”
“Lawyers will be speaking on our behalf.”
“Carmine used to do it,” she says. “All the press. Loved that, being in front of everyone, giving them a glimpse into it, knowing he was telling lies out in front of the world.”
“Yeah, he was quite a piece of work,” I say with a sigh. “We should have someone on the payroll. A spokesperson. A representative for the family,” I say, looking to Dante. “A friendly face people can trust, especially as we start to work with the community again.” He nods and I put it on my mental list.
It feels a mile long right now.
“I could, you know,” Teresa says.
“Could what?”
“Be the spokesperson. I . . . I want to have a bigger hand in the family. I know I basically am just here because of Tony, but . . . this is my life. I have nothing else but this family.”
I look at her with understanding because I get it.
If something happened where there was no Russo family for me to head and Dante passed, I would be lost. I’d need some kind of tie to the family, something that kept me in the life.
I don’t know if you can just go back, live a normal, carefree life after you know the secrets we do.
I look to my husband, asking him but already knowing what I’ll do next.
Thankfully, he nods, understanding.
“We’d pay you, of course,” I say, looking at Teresa.
In a way, the woman has become a confidant to me. A kindred spirit.
A second mother.
She knew her and how she fit into this life best, after all.
Maybe that’s what Teresa is to me—a lifeline to the part of my mother I never knew.
