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“Grazie Dio[23]!” Tizziano grumbles, and I don’t even look at him.
Maintaining the tradition of aversion to silence of every good Italian table,Mammadoesn't even wait for the starters to finish being placed on the table to start talking.
“I'm thinking about inviting Michela to dinner,domani[24],” she says, as if she had no ulterior motive with such an invitation.
I pretend I don't know her reasons, although I am perfectly aware of them. Just like I was last week, the week before that, the week before that, and every other week where my mother invited a good daughter of Sagrada, raised to be a perfect mafia wife, to dinner. Not for lunch, a meal that each of us eats wherever we are, on the street or in our own wing of this house, but for dinner, the only time of the day when it is guaranteed that all her children will be at the table unquestionably, unless someone is dead.
“I'm sure the Abellis will be very happy with your kindness,” I comment as I serve my plate, and Tizziano spits out the water he was about to drink.
“Buone maniere[25], Tizziano!”Mammaimmediately scolds him, and my brother apologizes with a silent gesture, swallowing his laughter. Her second rebuke comes in the form of AnnaCataneo's narrowed eyes. “And Michela has a sister, I'm going to invite Liliana too,” she says next. “Maybe a wife will fix you up!”
“Why don't you push wives on Cesare,Mamma? And for Gianni? They are your children as much as Vitto and me!” He defends himself from marriage as if ourmammawere throwing bullets at him, not rings.
“Cesare is already engaged, and Gianni is still too young to get married.”
“Engaged? To a zombie?” He snorts and turns towards me. “Where can I get an engagement like that, Don?” I ignore him.
“Maddona mia[26]!” Mamma screams, outraged by the words that have come out of my brother's mouth a million times before. “Cesare is not to blame forDio[27]'s will! And Clara will wake up!Bambina[28] isn't a zombie, Tizziano, she's just in a coma! We are praying for this.”
“For twelve years, Mamma! It’s been twelve years! IfDiowanted to perform this miracle, he would have done it already.”
Mammacurses under her breath before responding to her son, while the rest of us eat.
Honestly, I don't know if having guests over for dinner is any more or less inconvenient than our predictably non-routine dinners. Dealing with my mother's mute and demure guests is certainly much quieter than the arguments that Tizziano's comments always start when we're just with family.
“Yourfratello[29] is not yet thirty, Tizzi!” I pay attention to the conversation again when Mamma defends Gianni. The subject of Cesare's engagement was put aside then. The only committed one among the Cataneo brothers has a disguised smile on his face.
Cesare doesn't have a very different opinion than Tizziano when it comes to his fiancée. None of us besides my mom does, actually. But all he cares about is that, as long as the girl is alive, I can't commit him to anyone else. It doesn't matter if she is awake or asleep.
My brother was promised to Clara when they were both children, in a territorial agreement made bymio papà. People say that in the mafia, everything ends in blood or marriage, and it's true. Sometimes it ends with both.
Francesco Cataneo was a sensible Don.Mio padreis a sensible man, on the whole, perhaps the only act of foolishness he committed in his life was bringing Tizziano into the world. The agreements made during his leadership period brought growth to Sagrada's business, both legal and otherwise. In fact, if it weren't for his illness, he would have retired five, six years ago, instead of twelve.
Thyroid cancer, however, compromised many of his abilities and reflexes and, like the good man of honor he always was,Papàabdicated his command position for the good of La Santa, as he did everything else in his life. That was the first thing he taught me when my grandfather died decades ago: a good Don is not one who makes his power available to the organization. A good Don is one who makes himself available to the power of the organization.
I find his gaze lurking, if it weren't for the oxygen cylinder behind his chair, hardly anyone would say that Francesco Cataneo is a sick man. The thousands of euros spent on the most advanced treatments available have proven to be more than justified.
Mio padreindicates Tizziano andMamma's recent argument with a curt nod before shaking his head, but I know that, unlike me, who definitely prefers silence, he enjoys this chaos.
There are many things I have found myself better at than Francesco over the years. Keeping the dark side of what we do outwardly in balance with whomammasand wives would like us to be inwardly is not one of them.
“I want to be a grandmother!” Mamma mumbles loudly to no one in particular and to everyone at the same time.
Gianni hides his laugh with a cough, after all, she was defending him just now, it wouldn't be smart to displease her now. I decide this is as good a time as any to change the subject.
“Do we already have thevendemmia[30] study for this year, Gianni?”
“In the next couple of days. When you get back from Brazil, we'll probably already have it.”
“Buono[31].”
“Vendemmia...vendemmia... All they talk about is business, no one wants to give me grandchildren!”Mammagrumbles loud enough for all of Sicily to hear before putting herbruschetta[32]in her mouth.
CHAPTER 6
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Gabriella Matos
