"But if she's so unwell, how could you let her near Lucca?"
"Trust me, I don't. She sees him briefly and under supervision. He needs to know that his mother is at least around."
"I'm sorry." I touch his arm lightly.
Marcello's friends, Adrian and Vlad, join us in the waiting room.
"Won't the police be called?" I ask suddenly, remembering the gunshot wound. Isn't it standard protocol to call them?
"I handled that." Adrian grimaces. "We wrote it off as a suicide attempt gone wrong. With his history no one will ask questions."
"You mean the last attempt?" I probe, curious about what Nicolo had meant.
"Marcello insists it wasn't a suicide attempt, but he has a history of psychiatric problems."
"What do you mean?"
"Besides his phobia of touch, he's always had problems with insomnia." He confides, and I remember the many instances in which he'd stay up late citing work reasons, or the nightmares...
"I see." I nod, not knowing what else to add.
MARCELLO'S SURGERY is a success, and he is soon moved to a private salon. I stay with him the first night while he's out, but in the morning Enzo convinces me to go home to shower and change.
When I come back, the doctor pulls me aside to tell me that Marcello won't be able to speak for the time being, not until his vocal cords heal. Other than that, his condition is improving. Given that it's his second attempt in a month, he suggests an inpatient center. I don't want to decide anything right now, so I smile and tell him I'll think about it.
I head over to his salon and notice a nurse is coming out of his room.
"Are you Mrs. Lastra?" She asks, and I nod.
"Is something wrong?"
"Mr. Lastra is awake." She starts and I take a deep breath, my lips stretching wide into a smile. "But he doesn't want to see you."
"What do you mean?" I frown, my face immediately falling. Why doesn't he want to see me?
"He asked me to give you this." She hands me a letter. "Your name's been removed from allowed visitors, so..." She seems apologetic, but I just nod mechanically.
I go to an empty area and numbly sit down. Unfolding the letter, I start reading.
My lovely Lina,
I'm sorry about how everything turned out. You have no idea how much I wish things were different... including what happened that night ten years ago. I can sit here and tell you countless times that I never wanted to hurt you. But the truth is, I did hurt you. Even when I tried to do what I considered best at the time, you ended up being hurt.
I stop, tears already falling down my cheeks. But I will myself to read on. He's relating everything that happened that night in great detail; how he knew he had no choice, but tried to drug me so I wouldn't be in pain; how he'd struck a deal with his brother for my safety, devoting the last decade to working to catch a criminal and betraying his best friend in the process. The descriptions are so painfully vivid, my heart aches for what he had to live with.
I simply do not deserve you. Not now. Not like this. Not when I'm a broken man afraid to face his own demons. If what you said back there is true... that you forgive me... I want to forgive myself too. I want to become someone worthy of you.
But for that, I need to help myself first. I can't in good conscience stay in your life knowing I'm a ticking bomb that may go off at any time. I can't expose you, or Claudia to that.
I know I have no right to ask this, but... will you wait for me?
Forever yours,
Marcello
I can barely breathe as sobs wreck my body. I want to go to him and tell him that everything will be ok, that I forgive him and that I love him. If possible, knowing what I do now makes me love him even more. I can't even imagine what it's like to live with a burden like that. No, I can't even imagine how Marcello is still sane after everything he's been through.
It's hard to grasp all he's done in the past, the people he's tortured and killed... but is that really him? Or is it merely who the famiglia wanted him to be? How can he know any better when all his life he's witnessed only human cruelty? The fact that he'd so easily give his own life for me says it all. For a man who's never received kindness, he was ready to commit the ultimate sacrifice.
And that is the real Marcello. My soul recognizes his in a way that can't be explained by science or words. He's got the gentlest, more pure heart. He just had the misfortune of being born in the wrong family. No one's ever taught him kindness, and yet it comes so naturally to him.
I wipe my tears and head to the reception desk to ask for paper and a pen. Then I write my reply.
I'll wait.
Chapter Thirty-one
2 MONTHS LATER,
"LINA." I PRACTICE IN FRONT of the mirror, still not accustomed to my new voice. I clear my throat and try again. "Lina." I purse my lips. The knife had damaged my vocal cords, and while the doctors had hoped that they would heal completely, my voice now has a husky quality to it. It's not unpleasant, but it feels very foreign.
Like I'd smoked one hundred cigarettes a day for the last twenty years.
The scar healed nicely, though. Nicer than I would have expected. A reddish pink line now mars my neck. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to hide it even with a turtleneck.
After I'd received that letter from Lina, I hadn't heard from her. Well, not directly. I'd borrowed Vlad's listening device, and I've been able to listen to some of her conversations with Enzo. Both Catalina and Claudia are doing well. From the snippets I'd heard, Lina started her own business, selling some of her fashion designs and creating custom pieces for people. I couldn't be prouder about that. She's finally taking life into her own hands.
And soon, I'll be able to join her too.
I put on a blazer and head to my therapy appointment. A lot had changed since I'd walked out of the hospital, grateful to be alive. I don't think I've ever put as much price on my life as I had when Lina had begged me to live, both for her and for Claudia. But I've since learned that before I can live for them, I also need to learn how to live for myself.
In the past, all of my attempts at getting therapy had been failures. Not that I'd been too disappointed, since I've always hated talking about myself. But this time, the therapist is born in the mafia, and familiar with how things are done.
After I'd been discharged from the hospital, I continued seeing my old therapist for a couple of sessions, but things weren't working out. I couldn't be entirely truthful, and how could she help me if she had no idea what the extent of my trauma was? Around that time I'd talked again with Guerra, who'd extended his apologies for his brother, saying he had no idea what he was up to. We'd also realized that Franco had been working for some time with Nicolo, and they had planned to take over the leadership within their families. The attack wrongfully attributed to the Irish had been their doing, taking advantage of the terrible reputation the Gallaghers already had.
I'd also been trying to fix the miss within the famiglia, and Francesco had been invaluable in carrying out my orders and acting as my proxy. During one talk, he'd brought up his eldest daughter, Giulia. A clinical psychiatrist with a few years of experience, Giulia was the answer to my prayers. I hadn't been her first mob client, and certainly not the last.