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Rocco’s deployment and years in Afghanistan helped shape him into the man he is today. The man we need to protect our interests and the Medici empire.
He’s been to more than one funeral in his lifetime, too.
Angelo’s presence here is like the parting of the Red Sea when he walks through the small Sicilian church gates.
The front of the church is packed with guests waiting under umbrellas to enter through to the pews. I wonder if the humble church will hold everyone who has turned up.
Mario was known far and wide, which is why security is doubled as if the President himself was attending.
I stay back with my brothers to briefly greet family members and friends as we pass, including Ma’s side of the family. Jonas and Santino stand in the church entryway with their sister Bria, Aunt Voula, and Uncle Giuseppe. I nod toward them as we pass, indicating we will catch up later.
When I reach my Ma and sister, I greet them bothil bacetto;a kiss on both cheeks. I nod to Rocco and Enzo, and we clasp hands in turn.
“You alright?” I look at my kid sister donned in black and lace, with the most extraordinary mantilla covering her eyes.
She nods. “It’s Ma.E molto difficile,” Valentina says quietly in Italian.
“So che è difficile.”I know it’s hard.I nod, wrapping an arm around my Ma while Angelo and my brothers whisper to Enzo and Rocco about the proceedings. “Andra tutto bene,” I tell Ma. Everything is going to be alright.
I fucking have to believe it if I’m saying this to my mother.
“Entriamo,” Angelo says with a curt nod.Let’s go inside.
He holds the door for our mother and Valentina to step through into church. The burial will follow afterward, the same place we buried his son Roberto and wife Gloria.
It’s a fucking sad day. I fucking hate funerals.
I can’t wait for this day to be over.
* * *
The rain never let up.
It seemed like it went on forever. Nevertheless, I’m glad it’s done, and Mario can finally be at peace the way he wanted it to be.
I stay up late with my brothers after the gathering, as we drink into the night. It’s two a.m. when I finally get home. I probably should have just stayed with them, but I like my own bed way better.
I stumble in, feeling more alone and confused than ever. However, that could also be the forty-year-old bottle of scotch Angelo broke out and we downed it between us all before he headed back to Falmouth late into the night, courtesy of Gus driving.
After I take a shower, I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket and see I’ve a ton of missed messages. I sit on the edge of the bed with a towel wrapped around my waist.
The first one I see is from an unknown number.
Marco, it’s Katiya. I just wanted to let you know I’m all right, well, as all right as I can be. I hope we can talk soon. There are things to say. Kat.
I stare at the message in my half-drunken stupor. She fucking messaged me.
Maybe it’s the booze talking, but it’s fucking good to hear from her.
I want to know how things are going over at her place. Maybe after the opening tomorrow, I will call her and find out. Or maybe I should just stay away.
I don’t message her back.
I flick my phone off and lay back on my bed, looking up at the ceiling.
I still can’t believe today was the day we put Mario in the ground.
Angelo was strong throughout, but I can see the toll this has taken on him. I need to help him relieve some of the stress, but I know getting stuck into the casino and making sure it all runs smoothly, is exactly what he wants. He doesn’t need to be dealing with that as well.
