Today,I failed my son.
Stopping at that line,I crinkled my nose. Shio didn’t have a son; at least not one that I knew about.
You didn’t knowhe had a daughter either,my inner voice spoke to me again.
I shookoff the distraction and looked back at the writing that resembled something my baby brothers wrote. I needed something to keep my mind off the pain, and right now, this was it.
Today, I failed my son. I’ve failed him since the day he was born, but today was different. I fear he will never view me the same. He will hate me forever.
Not really understandingwhose words I was reading, I went back to scan the pages toward the beginning of the book. The first few pages were unclear writing, with a lot of scattered half-thoughts, lists, unfinished sentences, and sketches of people. The drawings were just as bad as his penmanship, and I wondered why Shio, or whoever, wrote so badly.
The next page I flipped to had a long list of what the author labeled,Possible Autobiography Book Titles. The suggestions were very specific, and as I scanned them, I questioned whether the author was drunk when writing them. Raising a Son Who Barely Understood, The Things I Got Wrong, A House Full ofLoud Silence, Before He Learns to Hate Me, and Notes from a Father Who Never Fathered were the first five, and I thought the titles were catchy. However, I was still unsure of whose book this was because it couldn’t have been Shio’s.
Flipping to the next page, I came across a droplet of blood smeared on it. The writing was cleaner and more legible than the first few pages I’d seen. I shifted my body to get as comfortable as possible. I was intrigued enough to read more.
If I write this,it has to be in first person. My recollections. No distance. No hiding behind the organization like I’m a stranger to my own blood and decisions. A man should stand in what he’s done—good or bad. That’s how I wanted to raise Shio. However, my wants fell short, and I’ve disgraced the family I made for the family I’ve come from. If I’m going to tell the truth about this life… About us… About my wife, it has to come from me, Sandro.
I gulpeddown the stale taste in my mouth. This was Shio’s father’s notebook. Flipping until I found an entry that was longer, I held the book at the best angle in my weakened state to learn as much as I could.
“Okay,you little dicks. We need you to go into town and purchase items on this list.”
All four boys were lined up, scowling. They were dressed in an assortment of wrestling graphic shirts and shorts. All their gym shoes were new, and they all had haircuts. My wife had mentioned that Shio needed new shoes and a haircut, so I’d taken the boys to the mall and let them pick out what they wanted. We ended our day with a trip to the barber. We had a guy who came over and did their cuts, but he wouldn’t be ableto make it until next week. My wife and I haven’t been seeing eye to eye, so I've been doing whatever I can to get back into her good graces.
Now that they’d had their hair cut by the black barber, who was located in the mall and had approached me to help, begging to do their hair for a low price, I’d noticed that the guy we used wasn’t very versed in black hair. He’d done such a good job thatthere had been smiles on the boys’ faces all day. Until now.
“Niccoli.”
My wife must’ve opened the door for him. I’d been in my office going over paperwork when I heard him yelling at the boys. They’d made plans to stay the night at Ezio’s and had come here so that Shio could pack a bag. My cousin’s piercing blue eyes lifted as he was eye-level with Ezio. Niccoli’s eyes were dilated, so I already knew what type of mood he was in, and so did the boys, since all of them stood with their little chests poked and scowls on their faces.
“It’s too hot outside, and we already got permission to hang at Ezio’s,” Renello spoke up.
“Yeah. You always come around trying to start stuff. We’re not bothering anybody,” Metavello, Renello’s twin brother, backed him.
I’d always admired the fact that Lombardo produced twins. I’d yearned for Shio to have a brother in the home, but it wasn’t fair to plant another seed inside of his mother under this roof. Had it been up to me, we would have never procreated. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my son; I love Shio with my whole heart. But I wronged his mother. I’d wronged him. I didn’t deserve either of them.
Niccoli stood, straightened the navy blue jacket of his suit, and lifted his hand to strike.
“Cousin! Let us have a discussion in my office. We can even have a little party,” I said to him, trying to avoid issues today.
God knows Niccoli didn’t need to hit another bump, but if it got him away from my son, I was all for it.
“Dear cousin…” Niccoli let one finger down at a time on his hands that were still raised until his hand was in a raised fist. “You dare interrupt the orders of Don?”
I could see Shio out of my peripheral vision. Unlike his cousins, his face was void. I could tell that he was upset, but only because I was his father, and I knew him.
“No. Never. But the boys have pizza waiting for them.”
“Pizza? Nonsense. Boys, you will come with me and do as I say or… Or… I will fuck your mothers in front of you while you eat your fucking pizza. Which will it be?”
“Let’s just go.” Shio pushed past Niccoli to the front door. The other three boys stayed in place, all scowling at Niccoli.
“You always ruining shit. You just a shit-ruiner.” Renello huffed.
“And you’re a black-ass disgrace!“
Metavello gritted his jaw together, never one to let anyone disrespect his brother. “And you’re a white, nasty-ass, low-level mobster. You think that racist shit hurt our feelings?”
“It don’t,” Ezio chimed in.
