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He started this conversation. Here’s hoping he’s open to hearing more, and that more might help to pull him to my side.
“I think the Carluccios went too far in the wrong direction,” I say, looking around and fighting the urge to look at him, to gauge his reaction. I try to look like I’m confident in what I’m saying, not nervous. “The family got distracted. It’s easy, you know? To get caught up in the greed and the money and the . . . adrenaline.” I keep my eyes away from him as I watch Dante chase a little boy, a raucous game of tag being played in the grass. “My father—well, the man who raised me, I think he fell into that. The adrenaline. Got caught up in it and forgot everything.” I look back to Silvero, finally, to see he’s still staring at me with an interested look. Not mad, just . . . intruiged. Open to listening to me.
“I’d like to think I have that in common with Liza: being attached to someone who accidentally went too far and forgot that it’s not just them in the world.”
I’m careful not to put blame on anyone, not to imply it’s a weakness or a wrongdoing on Turner’s or Carmine’s part, but an easy accident anyone could make. A long beat goes by, and I pray I didn’t go too far, implying that Carmine is anything but perfect and exceptional.
“No offense, Lilah,” he starts, and my gut drops. “Don’t think Turner was ever good. I think he knew what he was doing all along, knew how to hide it well enough to trick your mother. But that man was always powered by greed.” He turns his head, looking around, trying to find . . . someone.
When his brow furrows with frustration, or maybe disappointment, I think it’s a someone who isn’t here. I also scan the get-together, trying to take note of who is here and who isn’t . . .
And then I know.
Carmine.
Carmine isn’t in attendance, despite it being held in his deceased wife’s name.
I have to wonder what that says about him to his men. To the men who knew Liza, who knew how important community was to her. To men like Silvero, who remember when this kind of event was the norm. Men who might miss those days.
What does it mean to see their “leader” shows no interest?
“It happens. A man wants power so bad, he changes who he shows the world to win them over. Seems good until he wins that trust. Then he does what he wants with it,” Silvero says.
Funny.
He might be talking about Carmine or Paulie or even Tony, but he also could be talking about . . . me.
The deceit has never weighed on me much before, not until this man, who clearly longs for the way the world used to work, calls me out, intentionally or not.
“All we can do as a collective is move forward, hope that we have the best interests of both the family and those around us in mind,” I say, trying to give him what I can—reassurance, a molecule of understanding.
Common ground.
“Do you?” he asks, looking at me.
His face has changed from contemplative to stern.
“Do I what?”
“Have the best interest of the family in mind?”
I look at him and I don’t feel the panic I probably should.
Instead, I feel at ease because I know now that I can answer honestly.
“I believe so. I think . . . I think there’s room for the family to grow and to still benefit the community. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing—greed and deceit or giving everything away. There has to be a middle ground where everyone wins. I think . . .” I look around. “I think if the family shifts priorities, we can do both. No one has to suffer. And we can make it safe. No more worrying about crack downs, about getting into hot water. Be quieter, but also louder in the community. There’s . . .”
I’m really about to go here, aren’t I?
I turn to Silvero fully.
“The community is scared of you guys. They see thugs, there to fuck things up in order to make a buck. The whispers . . . they aren’t good. But we could change that. I mean, look at this.” My hand moves over the field where families are all gathered. “This is what Anthony had in mind. It’s what Liza loved. We all just . . . got distracted.”
“You don’t have to take responsibility for that. It’s not a we, Lilah.” His words are soft, almost like he’s embarrassed. I put a hand on his arm.
“It’s a we, Silvero. I’m part of this family now. Whether Paulie or Carmine or Dante or whoever wants me involved, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
I mean that.
