Family.
The word tastes bitter. My real one fell apart before I even understood what it meant. So when Dante talks about theFamiglialike it’s something holy, something worth bleeding for, I can’t help but wonder if this family will be any different from my real one, or if I’m trading one kind of fucked-up loyalty for another.
I contemplate getting up and leaving before the waitress returns, but something is keeping me rooted to my chair. Maybe I need one more of her smiles. Something soft and sweet that doesn’t come with strings or expectations.
It’s pathetic, really, how starved I am for something that simple, a look that asks for nothing in return.
Her quiet goodness reminds me that not everyone in this world takes, and that some things don’t come with a price.
So I wait, pretending it’s for the leftovers, when the reality is I’m just wanting to feel human for a second.
The car door slams behind me, and I drag the baby pram out onto the curb. I’ve watched the girl at the store demonstrate this a hundred times in my head, folding, snapping, and locking it into place. She made it look so easy, but reality seems to have other plans for me today.
“Cunt,” I curse under my breath as the metal joint refuses to click into place. “Get in there, you motherfucker.”
I twist, push, and fucking pull, trying every angle I can think of, and the damn thing still won’t cooperate. I’m five seconds away from launching this damn contraption across the parking lot. My hands are scraped, my patience threadbare, and I feel like a damn idiot.
A mother with her young child walks past, glancing at me with a mix of sympathy and judgment, but I ignore her and take a deep breath. After a few more frustrated tugs, the pram finally clicks into place. I stand back, with my hands on my hips, trying to act like I meant to do that all along, but I’m already dubious about collapsing it back down when we return to the car.
Thankfully, I drive an SUV, so I’ll leave the fucking thing up if it comes to that.
I start moving across the car park, and feel like a dick pushing an empty pram, but I can’t help the small grin tugging at the corners of my lips. I’ve been granted temporary custody of Lil’ Peach. Just the thought makes my chest tighten like I’ve won some kind of impossible lottery.
With Mary’s help, I finally got to where I needed to be. My niece is mine, for the time being anyway, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure it stays that way. They will take her back over my cold, dead fucking body.
The poor little thing has been in the hospital for weeks, but today, it’s time to take her home.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t apprehensive about being solely responsible for the wellbeing of a tiny human, but the alternative is far more dire.
As far as I know, my sister hasn’t returned to the hospital or enquired about her daughter’s fate, and I can’t even wrap my head around that. How someone could bring a child into this world and walk away is beyond me.
Maybe it’s the drugs, or she just stopped caringsomewhere along the way. Maybe she’s more like my damn father than I care to admit, but none of that matters now, Lil’ Peach is better off without her. Chaos and disappointment are all my sister is capable of, thanks to her addiction.
The nurse hands me the discharge papers with a polite but tired smile. She talks about follow-up appointments and how babies need consistency and calm. I nod along, pretending I’ve got a clue. The truth is, I’m quietly terrified about going it alone.
I look down at Peach’s tiny face. I’ve dressed her in the little pink jumpsuit I bought for her to wear home, and she looks impossibly sweet. The matching headband has a large, soft bow that flops forward onto her forehead, making her look even smaller than she already is.
“Should I write all this down?” I ask, leaning over the pram and adjusting the headband like I know what I’m doing.
“It’s all here in the paperwork, Mr Rizzo,” the nurse replies.
Mary breathes out a soft laugh when my eyebrows pinch together. “You’ll figure it out, Dominic,” she says with certainty.
I wish I had her confidence. I thought I was ready for this, but now that the time’s actually here, I feel completely out of my depth. My hands feel too big, too rough for a world this fragile. Part of me keeps waiting for someone to rush in and tell me it’s all been a mistake, and I don’t have what it takes, that love and desperation don’t count as qualifications for raising a child.
But no one comes.
When it’s finally time to leave, Mary walks quietly beside me towards the car. Everything suddenly feels heavier,more real. Once I drive away, that’s it. It’ll be just the two of us from here on out.
“You’re going to be fine,” Mary reassures me as I carefully lift Lil’ Peach out of the pram and strap her into the car seat.
I double-check that the tiny straps are clicked into place and that Peach is fastened safely before stepping back, closing the door, and wheeling the pram around to the back of the car. I can only hope this thing doesn’t give me the same grief it did when I got here. The last thing I need is Mary second-guessing her decision because I can’t figure out how to collapse a fucking pram without losing my cool.
“You have my number.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t hesitate to call if you have any questions.”
