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With an energy I only ever felt when I was at the Beretta mansion, I changed out of my shirt and slacks and into some sweats and a T-shirt. Cardo and Chiara were occupied, so I darted into Mom’s room. She was sprawled half on her bed and half on the floor. Normally I would have helped her into the bed and made sure she was safe. But as I stared at her greasy hair and gray face, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was twenty-four and I’d been cleaning up after her my entire life. It was time to stop.
So I shut the door, putting a barrier between her and us. Rage slammed through me knowing that the kids had already seen her like that. She was messy—more so than usual.
Trying to put the image of her out of my mind, I walked down the hallway and into their shared room where Chiara was staring at her hair in the mirror and Cardo was trying his hardest to fit a puzzle piece in a space that it didn’t go in.
“You like it, Mateo?” Chiara asked, meeting my gaze in the small mirror I’d bought her.
“I love it.” I stepped toward her and ran my fingertips over the two braids. “They’re pretty.” I’d never met the woman who they had been with, and even though deep down I wanted to ask them who she was, I knew they wouldn’t be able to give me the kind of information I needed. I didn’t care that her eyes bled of pain—pain that I recognized. I didn’t give a damn that her biting down on her plump bottom lip had me going hot all over.
What I did care about, was her being around Cardo and Chiara when I didn’t know a fuckin’ thing about her. I made a mental note to ask Mr. Blue to do an in-depth background check on her and then I stepped back. “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes.”
“Okay,” Chiara murmured, turning to look back in the mirror. She looked so much like our mom that it was scary sometimes. Thank God neither she nor Cardo got her eyes though. I’d been punished with them, so they didn’t need to be either.
I ruffled Cardo’s dark-brown hair as I moved past him and out of their bedroom, making yet another mental note that he needed a haircut soon. Sometimes I wondered if I was doing a good enough job with them. It always felt like I was five steps behind what they needed and that I was always trying to catch up. But at least it was better than leaving Mom to it. If it was up to her, they wouldn’t even eat unless they were at school.
I gritted my teeth as I walked through the living room and past the waist-high wall that separated it from the kitchen. She’d pulled everything she could out of the cupboards. She was looking for money again, but there was no way in hell I was going to keep funding her alcoholism. I’d spent too much time and effort adhering to her demands. And now I was done.
Once dinner was cooking—a simple pasta dish I’d learned when I was ten—I then tidied everywhere I could. It would only be a matter of time until she was awake again, I just hoped it was after the kids were in bed. They’d seen enough of her today.
We sat at the table, just the three of us, and I reveled in them telling me all about their day at school. Cardo was ahead of the grade he was in, and Chiara was still in pre-K. It was their escape, just like going to the mansion was mine.
“Do you want to hear the times tables?” Cardo asked.
Chiara huffed, placing her fork on the side of her plate. “Cardo.” She pursed her lips, looking so much older than the four-year-old she was. “You already said it like a million times to Luna.” She met my stare, shaking her head, and I couldn’t help the quirk of my lips.
“I haven’t heard yet though,” I said softly, being careful not to upset Chiara while keeping Cardo happy. Navigating two siblings so close in age was a full-time job in itself.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes, then picked her fork up.
“Okay, so it goes—”
I put my last bite of pasta in my mouth, intent on giving him all of my attention, but he was interrupted by groaning coming from Mom’s bedroom. We all froze, knowing what was about to come, especially as she’d be partially sober now.
“Who the fuck has been drinking my shit!” Several bangs rang out, but I didn’t move my gaze off Cardo and Chiara. They were all too used to this, and I hated it. I hated how I felt like I needed to keep us all together. Family was important, that was what I had always lived by, but the more we all stayed, the more I started to wonder if this was what a real family was. Cardo, Chiara, and I were a family, but I wasn’t sure Mom fit into that anymore—if she ever had.
Her bedroom door flung open and I clenched my hands on the table, thankful that Cardo and Chiara had almost finished eating.
“Eat up,” I told them, standing so that I was prepared for anything.
“Mateo!” Mom screeched, followed by more bangs, but these were closer this time. She appeared in the doorway to the living room, her hair matted to the side of her face, her lips cracked and dry, and her clothes soiled. I wasn’t sure how long she’d worn them, but it was definitely more than a couple of days now. “Where the fuck is it?”
“Where’s what?” I asked calmly, quickly glancing at the kids. Cardo stood, taking Chiara’s hand. He knew the drill. I distracted her so they could escape to their room.
“Don’t play stupid with me, boy.” She wagged her finger and stumbled closer to me. I turned, waving my hand behind my back to signal the kids. “You ain’t too old for a spankin’.”
My nostrils flared, my anger building the closer she got. “What do you need?” I asked, feeling my shoulders slump when I spotted the kids run through the doorway, and when the click of their bedroom door rang out, I could breathe a little easier.
“Money.” She halted a foot away from me, and I screwed up my nose at the stench coming off of her. She pushed her hand into my chest, but I didn’t move a single inch. I wasn’t the same kid she used to be able to push around. I put up with her shit because she was my mom, but her tether to me was fraying, and I was ready to put an end to the bullshit. “You leave me here all day with the kids. You know what it’s like to look after those two little shits?” She laughed, showcasing her half-rotten teeth. “I should lock them in the damn cupboard.” She paused, tilting her head to the side. “Just like I used to do to you.”
I tried not to let her words affect me, but it was impossible. It felt like I was back there, in that tiny kitchen cupboard that she’d lock me in for hours on end. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if she genuinely forgot I was there or did it on purpose.
“I’ll do it,” she threatened.
“You won’t,” I gritted out, pushing my shoulders back. I wasn’t that little boy anymore, whether she saw me like that or not.
“Give me money and I won’t.” She grinned, like she’d just won an epic argument, but what she didn’t know was that I would happily give her twenty bucks to get her out of here for a few hours. So I reached into my pocket, pulled out a bill, and handed it to her.
She held it up in victory, waving it in the air, then stumbled toward the apartment door. Cold air blasted through as she flung it open, and without a single look back at me, she left, leaving the door open in her wake.
