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“What do you want?” the old man asks.
“You’re Teresa’s father?” My grandfather?
“Yeah.” He hooks a thumb in the suspenders that hold up his pants. “What of it?”
I gave my question a lot of thought. It’s the reason I drove here. “Why did she marry my father?”
He scratches his head. “Santino?”
“Yes.”
He looks me over, taking in my clothes. “You’re just as fancy as that good-for-nothing mother of yours.” His upper lip curls. “Whore.”
Old or not, I’m a second away from punching him. “Answer my question.”
Gurgling, he spits on the ground. “War.”
“What?”
“War.” He squints at me through one eye. “Your father married her to stop the war between us. We stay here.” He makes a circle with his finger. “He stays there.”
An old vendetta. It explains why we don’t see each other and why my father hasn’t mentioned the war. He’ll never dishonor my mother by telling us kids about the feud between him and her family. “Don’t forget the money.”
I know how much we pay my mother’s family every month because I’ve been making those payments for the past two years. The accumulated value is worth a small mountain of gold.
He grins, showing two missing teeth. “You’ll be bringing it now in person?”
Looking around, I say, “It’s cold out here. Dirty too.”
A sneer contorts his features. “Are you coming here and telling me you’re better than me?”
“I’m just wondering why you haven’t made a nice home for yourself somewhere, a place with heating and running water.”
He points a bony finger at me. “Don’t you come here and judge us for our way of living. We are what we are. Have always been. Never needed no fancy house with heat and water.”
I glance at the children. “What about them?”
“They’ll do as they’re told if they know what’s good for them.”
The misery hangs thick in the air. It clings to his clothes and to the stench coming from the hole next to the shack where a swarm of flies are buzzing.
“What are you doing with all that money?” I ask.
“That’ll be none of your fucking business.”
“He buys gold,” the girl says. “He keeps it in the—”
The old man lifts his arm. The girl cowers. Before he can backhand her, I catch his wrist. It’s brittle and skeletal under my fingers. I can snap it with little force.
The kids scatter, some of them laughing, but not the girl. She jumps over the stream and runs in the direction of the forest.
I drop his arm and wipe my hand on my trousers. “From now on, you’re not getting money. You’re getting a house, food, and clothes. The kids will go to school.”
His face turns red. “You won’t be changing our ways with your smart mouth and your big car. We do what we want.”
“We do what we want,” the boys yell, throwing rocks at me.
“You can have an allowance for entertainment or whatever it is you do with the money,” I say. “The rest of it will cover your living expenses.”
I’ve decided. I’ll drag the old man tied up out of here if I must.
Turning back, I climb the hill. When I get to the top, I let out a curse and charge toward my car. The two in-between kids have broken open the door and are stripping my car of anything they can lay their hands on, which include the mats, a packet of wipes for the leather, and the service book in the glove compartment. The wheel caps are already gone.
They jump on broken pieces of pressed wood and use them as sleighs to slide down the hill with their loot.
I take in the state of my car, the scratch marks on the door where they forced the lock and the mud on the seats.
Fucking savages.
I start the engine and turn the car around, glancing at the sorry camp in the rearview mirror.
No wonder my father never brought us to visit. I understand why he kept us away from here. I always knew why my father was hated and feared. He comes from a bad bloodline of scavengers who poached the riches of others. However, I never knew how much my mother was despised, not only because she’s married to my father but also because she comes from here.
We’re the scum of the island, and the people here don’t forget. Not all the money in the world can change that. Some legendary creatures like Midas turn whatever they touch into gold. Anything we lay our hands on is soiled.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Sabella
The summer holidays have always been my favorite time, but I’m glad when the final school year starts in January. Being occupied helps to take my mind off everything that happened around my birthday.
The rhythm is harsh and the subject material tough. Colin and I work hard, studying together every day. I push myself more than ever, because when I’m busy, I don’t have to think. I don’t have time to mourn the loss of something that never had a chance to start.
