AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He snaps his mouth shut.
Goddammit. He was about to tell me something.
“You were about to tell me the truth? What is it?”
My mother’s tone brooks no discussion. “You may have caught those thugs a few times, but I can assure you that they were following you for much longer than that. You were right to tell your father. It was the mature and responsible thing to do but leave the rest of it for the clan to take care of. It’s not business for little girls like you.”
“I’m eighteen years old and you just called me mature. I can’t be a little girl who isn’t allowed to know anythingandbe old enough to get married. That’s a contradiction. So either you tell me—”
“If you’re eighteen, then you’re old enough to marry regardless of when you graduate,” she snaps back. “As for maturity…” She gives a disgusted flick of her hand in the air.
Refusing to let go of this argument, I press on, “So which is it? Am I an adult or a child? Because if I’m adult enough to marry, then I’m sure as hell old enough to know why. I see a guy following me a couple of times and that’s cause enough for a marriage like this? We’remafie. People follow each other all the time.”
I regret telling my father anything about my stalker. I certainly didn’t tell him of the many times I felt I was being watched. And growing upmafie, I trusted my guts. I’d subtly inspected my surroundings and found random men watching me. They changed frequently, until about a month ago. Then it became one man. The same middle-aged man with slicked-back hair and a dark suit.
He’d watch intently from the shadows. I’d see him when I went to the corner store or down Queens Boulevard to pick up bread at Adrian’s Bakery. Then I began to see him across the street from my school. But the freakiest time was when he was at a poetry slam in Harlem I’d sneaked out to attend. How he found me, I have no idea. And he boldly sat at a table near me, not bothering to be subtle. He didn’t reach over to talk to me, to hit on me, or whatever. No, he just stared.
Expectant.
Almost taunting, as if he was daring me to approach him.
And that rattled me enough to tell my father.
Of course, I didn’t tell him everything. My mother had guessed right. I thought Tata would tell me not to worry about it, that it was related to his work. Worst case scenario, he’d place a guard on me for a little bit. I mean, things are tense between the Romanians and the Russian Bratva. But mafia wars don’t tend to spill over to the women and children.
Instead of remaining calm, he lost his head and told my mother. He then spoke to our clansef, or boss. Next thing I know, I’m being married off to Marku.
“Yes, of course you’re old enough to marry and you’re old enough to understand, but you’re not in a position to know everything that’s going on. Just know that this is for your own good and leave it at that. It’s a prime opportunity to learn a very important lesson about what being amafiewife is about. Sometimes, you must do what you’re told and shut your mouth.”
A rush of helpless fury tears through me. I swear I feel the top of my head blow off. Clutching the side of the table to stop myself from lunging over and throttling my mother, I thunder, “But you know. You’re a wife and you know. So why the hell can’t I.”
Before she can answer, my father raises a trembling hand and murmurs, “Enough, Crina.”
And just like that, his soft-spoken plea stops me in my tracks. I glance up at his face. He’s pale, as he often is these days. His full lips were white as chalk. The multitude of fine lines around his kind eyes and forehead are drawn in tension. The tall, stately dining chair looks like it’s swallowing him whole. His coffee-colored eyes beg me to stop. He lists a touch to the left and grabs the edge of the table to right himself.
Guilt pummels me from all directions. I’m furious, but I have no choice but to back off. It’s too much for him and I’ll be damned if I’m the reason he has another seizure.
At that moment, the doorbell rings.
My mother stands up and orders, “Check on him while I see who’s at the door.”
I nod and get up, rushing to his side. I kneel beside him. He turns slightly and cups my cheek. Gazing down at me, he says, “I love you, Crina. I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t convinced that it’s the right thing to do.”
I shake my head. “Y-you’re not feeling well, so you’re letting Mama run with this.”
“Don’t blame her. Blame me if you must. I approached the boss about this. I made the final decision. I’m aware that you’ve had conflicts with Marku in the past, but he’s a good man.” I snort in derision. “More importantly, he’s a good made man. Those are harder to come by than you think, and believe me, I’ve been looking. He can protect youandhe has the capacity to be good to you.”
“You can protect me.”
He looks sorrowful as he smiles sadly at me. Another stab of sharp pain. Does he think because he’s sick, he can’t protect me anymore? But he’s always been sick. Yes, there are the recent seizures, but there’s always been something. There always is with lupus. It’s a disease that never lets up, never gives a man a break. It just takes and takes from the body, ruthless and uncompromising. But he’s been battling it for twenty years. He has ups and downs, but he’s always bounced back. Somewhat.
“Is there something you’re not telling me about the seizures? About the lupus?”
“Of course not,” he replies instantly, almost too quickly.
I search his face for clues, but his expression remains neutral. I scan closely again. He seems sincere. I take an easier breath.
“Then why, Tata?”
