I read the first page of the contract while I wait to hear if he is being dismembered or not, but all I can hear are her shrill screams calling him every single insulting Italian word there is. He is silent, not something that usually happens when they fight. My father normally yells right back, and he’s thrown a few glasses and punches over the years too.
Part of me wants to just escape out the door again and run from them to her, but I know better. I pull out my phone and text Chelsey.
I have to cancel. Parent problems. Sorry :(
It’s okay I understand that… My mom is the definition of parent problems. See you tomorrow ;)
Silence falls and I take a breath before I head into the sitting room to see if one of them is actually dead. I enter into the middle of a Mexican standoff, one on either side of the room, and they don’t need to say anything more.
They are broken, they’ve always been broken, but now they’ve fallen to pieces and there’s no coming back. I’m not sad, I’m afraid. I knew eventually this would dissolve and someone would leave.
“Tell him,” my mother says, her eyes still locked with his, her cheeks stained with tears, her hands shaking at her sides. “Tell him, Salvestre, tell your son what you have done.”
My father stares her down. He isn’t shaken at all. He’s not angry, or raging like he would normally. When he turns to face me the first signs of a black eye are swelling up on his left cheek, so she connected at some point in the fight. A good solid punch.
“TELL HIM!” she screams.
I never thought of my parents as old, but standing here between them watching my family dissolve, I notice it. The wrinkles, the pain of the years spent hating each other painted on them. The way my elegant mother shakes, and my tall father slouches his broad shoulders. They’ve been killing themselves all along – for me. I know they did it for me. I am the center of their anger and sadness, and I always have been.
“Not now, Elena.”
My father talks calmly to her. It’s like watching a movie when the background is spinning, but the characters are standing still in the middle.
“Salvi, your father has something to tell you.”
“I saw the papers in the kitchen, Mama, I know.” I don’t want to be a part of this.
“Oh, son, there’s so much more. Maybe we should all sit down so he can tell you that you’re going to be a big brother. Or, how his next wife is younger than you, maybe decide if you’ll call her mom or not.”
The spinning stops, the world jolts to a halt. She’s lying. She has to be lying, but one look at the shame on my father’s face is enough for me to know it’s all true. He always wanted another child. I was such a letdown, and now he’s finally getting that do-over.
The thing is, I wasn’t the letdown. My father wasn’t the firstborn son and therefore the next in line. Dad was always the one left behind, scrambling for a spot in the pecking order, and I bore the brunt. I don’t see how another child takes him up and not down.
“Is it true?” I ask, looking at him.
I see the way his throat moves when he swallows the lump in it, wiping his hand over his face. He tries to say something, but nods first. “Yes.”
Just like that two things happened inside of me. I become instantly protective of my new sibling, and I feel like the war has finally ended.
“All of it?” I just need to know.
“Yes, she’s very young, and she’s carrying my child. Your brother … or sister. I love her. I feel something for her I can’t explain. This time it’s more than a game. I’m sorry, son, but I can’t live like this anymore. I want more from whatever I have left in life.”
I hear the air move before I see what is flying towards him –the giant pewter bowl that adorns the sideboard connects with his chest. A thud, then he folds in half and falls over.
“Fuck you, Sal. I gave you everything!” Mom screams.
I move over to her calmly, taking the matching candelabra from her trembling hand.
“No, Ma, you didn’t. Neither of you did. Stop, sign the papers, go to Europe and live your life. It’s not worth this. Look at you two.”
There’s wetness on her cheeks and she drops her arms in defeat.
“Look, Ma.”
The room is like a murder scene and my father has collapsed on the floor, groaning in agony.
“Just stop, both of you. Stop denying that this was the biggest mistake of your lives and just move on.”
I can’t watch anymore, I don’t want to see it, because it hurts me. I walk away. I get in my car to take a drive and I just don’t stop. I keep going until I’m almost out of gas, stop at a motel and call Rain.
“I need a few days off.”
“You’re a few days from finishing the salon, can’t it wait, Rat?”
“Rain, I need a few days. Please.”
“Are you in trouble?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.
“No, there’s just …” I go silent. I don’t know what to say. What I should say. “Call my father, Rain. I can’t tell you, he’ll kill me.”
“Stay where you are. I mean it. Take a few days and I’ll call you.”
“Sorry, Rain, I didn’t want to let you down.” I feel bad that I’m not going to finish the job he gave me.
“It’s fine, you haven’t. You’re done at the salon, Salvi, don’t worry about it. Okay?”
I don’t want to be done, but I don’t say that. Chelsey is there and I am not nearly done with her. Even now I miss her. She’s turned me into that lovesick guy we always mock, because he’s after the girl he can never have.
Dreaming about her, I stay at the seedy motel for a week. I turn my phone off and ignore my family’s calls. Staring at the ceiling, after ordering in about ten gallons of liquor, I drink. I drown everything out and when my world falls away and floats in and out of consciousness, all I can see is Chelsey, and my new baby brother.
I know it will be a boy and he’ll be everything I’m not. Maybe he can make my father happy.
After a week of my jumbled mind, my old self returns. I don’t care anymore, about anything. I text Rain and he sends me to work at the docks.
I liked it there before and now that I have earned a little of his respect, things are better. The guys greet me with back slaps and cheers when I join them in the warehouse. It feels right, like it used to be.
The containers arrive two hours later and we have to open each box inside them, remove the cocaine, reseal them and let the trucks go again. It’s hard labor, it takes all night, and by the time we walk out as a group it’s dawn, the sun is about to crack the horizon.
“Glad you’re back, Rat,” my uncle says as he collects the paperwork from us.
I don’t really want to talk. He’s going to make me, though. With an arm around my shoulder I am steered away from the rest of the group.
“Have you heard from your father?”
“No, Zio, I only got back into town today. I didn’t go home, came straight here. My phone is still off.”
He looks concerned, also like he doesn’t believe me.
“I haven’t spoken to my father since he served my Ma divorce papers, Zio. It was ugly so I left. That’s it.”