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“It won’t be me.” I pushed off the counter, placing my hand on his shoulder. “But I’ll give you time, of course. The information will be set the usual way.”
I tried to lift my hand from his shoulder, but he put his over mine. “I’ve always wanted to ask you something, Ethan.”
“Go on.”
“The burden on your shoulders, how do you carry it so well? In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve seen you sacrifice whatever is necessary for the bigger picture. Each time unflinching and unwavering in determination. What is it that makes you such a warrior?”
“I was born a warrior. My name keeps me one,” I answered him but didn’t wait to hear his response, already walking toward Ivy and my chair. I took off my uniform and hung it up for the last time, then took my coat.
“You looked happy working at his shop.” Ivy smiled, rising up, holding on to the photo album and finally looking at me, and when she did her smile faded as if she could read my mind. Turning from me, she gave Gabby a one-armed hug. “Good night, Gabby. I hope I helped.”
“Yep, your wayyyy is better than my teachers.” She hugged back, releasing her and moving to me. “Bye, Uncle! Come more.”
I patted her head. “Why don’t you come to Chicago?”
“Uncle, I’m a kid. I can’t go by myself,” she said as if I were stupid.
“Fine. We’ll wait for your list to come in your place,” I said to her, taking Ivy’s hand and walking toward the door.
“Bye, Giovanni, thank you for the stories.” Ivy smiled at him, and he nodded, waving us off.
Neither Ivy nor I spoke until we got into the car.
I glanced at the window with his name upon it. Giovanni walked to the sign on the front window and flipped it to Closed.
“They are…normal,” she whispered. I understood what she was implying.
“By some cousin to a cousin we were related,” I whispered, starting the engine. “I didn’t understand why my mother wanted me to work for them. She only mentioned them once before I started to work. And she mentioned them as if they were so distant they were the afterthought of an afterthought.”
“Did you ever understand then why she made you work there?”
“Because my mother…saw the big picture,” I said, pulling onto the street. “Make Italians see her son was still one of them. Make them get close enough to see how dark my heart could get. Make them respect me. Make them fear me. Let me see how much they were jealous. But also to remind me, that if I were meant to be a barber, I would have been one. I was born into my family not theirs. My name is a constant reminder of that. If I felt like my life or path was so burdensome, to ponder why everyone else wants it so badly.”
It took me much too long to realize that.
Glancing down and placing her hand on my thigh, I looked at her as she said, “Gabby. I like her.”
“Like no one but me.” It would be easier.
That was the cruel fact of life.
The weak will die.
The strong will live.
I made sure we, the Callahans, were always strong, at any cost.
TWENTY-THREE
“If I am an angel, paint me with black wings.”
~ Anne Rice
ELEVEN DAYS LATER
IVY
“Today, while high on what police are calling the Cocktail, a batch of heroin that was mixed with various drugs, a middle-aged man walked into oncoming traffic naked and—”
