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“That’s enough.” Martha slammed her hands on the table. I jumped in surprise and stared at Steven. He only looked at Tessie with an expression caught between anger and sadness, but didn’t say a word. “Tessie, go back upstairs right now.”
“Screw this,” Tessie said. “You’re just as bad as everyone else, Mom. They don’t own you. They’re not worth it.” She shook her head, turned away, and stormed back upstairs.
Silence hung over the table, thick as the living room carpet.
“I’m sorry about her,” Martha said after a long moment. “Her father died three years ago from cancer. And now she’s not taking Davide’s death very well. It seems every man in her life ends up dead.” She smiled a rueful, angry smile.
“I’m sorry again, Martha,” Steven said. “I didn’t come here to defend what happened, only to reach out and let you know that the Family will always take care of you and your family.”
She nodded a little and touched her eyes with the tissue. “I don’t blame you, you know,” she said.
“It’s okay if you do.”
“But I don’t.” She reached out and touched his hand. He flinched, but didn’t move it away. “Before the Family took him in, Davide was troubled. He was on drugs, getting into fights, causing problems around the neighborhood. Then you came around and made him a better man. I’ll never thank you enough for that, and as far as I’m concerned, all the time we got with him while he was working for you was all just a bonus.”
Steven took her hand and squeezed it. He gave her a long look then released her and reached into his jacket. He took out a fat envelope and placed it down on the table and pushed it toward her. She hesitated then took it up and clutched it against her chest like a treasured stuffed animal.
“That’s just a little something to start,” he said. “I swear, I’m not paying you for Davide’s death. I’m only providing for his family, as he would’ve wanted. I’m sorry again, Martha.” He pushed his chair back and stood.
I stood and followed him around the table. Martha walked us to the door, her eyes glistening with tears as Steven turned the knob and opened it. A small wooden cross with a cherub floating at the top of it rattled as he went to leave.
“Steven?” Martha said.
He looked back.
“You’ll come to the funeral, won’t you?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said, then turned and walked down the stoop.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said and hurried after him.
Marta stood in the door as Steven got behind the wheel and started the engine. I got in the passenger side and he pulled out, driving too fast. I clutched the dash for a moment before he glided through a stop sign, made a left then a right, then pulled over on the side of the road.
He sat there staring at the steering wheel before he punched it. He punched it hard once, twice, again and again. He hit it hard enough to break the skin on his knuckles as he growled like an animal. I flinched away from him, my eyes wide and shocked, as he took his aggression out on the car.
When he was finished, he sat there breathing hard. He didn’t look at me, didn’t look anywhere. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, and I could tell he wasn’t seeing anything around him.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” he said. “His sister was right. I got Davide killed. That was my fault.”
“No,” I said. “He knew what he signed up for.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m supposed to take care of them. I’m supposed to make sure shit like that never happens.”
“We got unlucky,” she said. “That guy… he wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“It doesn’t matter, don’t you get it?” He looked at me and I was surprised to see the depth of his anguish. “Davide’s dead and it’s my fucking fault.”
I sat there, at a loss for words. I wanted to speak platitudes, tell him time heals all wounds, that he just needs to keep going forward, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The truth was, I couldn’t imagine that Steven had so much emotional depth inside of him, and I was completely taken aback.
He took deep breaths to steady himself. I sat there and waited until he seemed to calm down a little bit. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
“I’ll make sure his mother’s taken care of,” he said. “Fuck, I knew about his dad dying, but I forgot all about it.”
“You have a lot to handle,” I said.
“Yeah, I know.” He opened his eyes and looked at me. “I’ll take care of his sister too, if she’ll let me. Pay for her college at the very least.”
“I’m not sure you owe them that much.”
