23. Alessandro

Divorce.

Annulment.

The words coming from Evelyn as I make my way to apologize to her are heartbreaking. My mind is reeling. Even though I just got out of the shower, I pull out another pair of boxing trunks to spar against my imaginary enemies.

One blow comes after the other. The pounding drowns everything out as I hit the bag over and over again. It pushes my mind into that dark corner where I hate to be but can never leave behind.

18 Years Ago ...

There's a chill in the autumn air as I leave the army recruitment office near Coney Island. Salt taints the smell of the breeze coming off the beach water, and I'm pissed the recruiter couldn't tell me where my friend Lorenzo went to bootcamp. Pop's in a foul mood, and I don't want to be anywhere near him when he's missing Mom.

Even the guys working for him head in the other direction. He's liable to do something stupid. So, I take the long way home from Brooklyn to Queens. The minute I step through the door, he's waiting for me. I don't know what to expect, but there's a bag by the door. I'm not sure if it's for him or me.

"You're going to stay with your Zio, Alessandro."

"I got school," I tell him. "It's going to be a fucking nightmare getting on the ferry every morning to come all the way back up here. Pop, that's nuts. I'm not going."

"You'll do what I fucking tell you to do. Now, grab your shit and go. Call me when you get there."

"Here?"

"Yeah, leave a message if I don't pick up. I got some shit I have to handle for some people. I'm heading to Chicago and then to Sicily. I don't know how long I'm leaving, but as soon as I get back, I'll come get you."

"Yeah, whatever." I shake my head and poke around the duffel bag. "Zio's place is so fucking small, and his couch is shit."

"Watch your mouth. You wouldn't curse in front of your mother like that."

"Well, she's not here."

There's no time to take it back before his hand comes across my face, slapping me to the ground.

"Don't you ever disrespect my wife like that. Dead or not, she's still your mother. You hear me?" His anger is coated in tears as he quickly realizes what he's doing and bends down to get me to my feet. He pulls me in tight, hugging me like he's never going to see me again. "I'm sorry, Alessandro. I'm sorry, um, here."

My face is throbbing as he hands me damn near a thousand dollars. When I don't take it, he shoves it in my pocket and picks up the duffle bag.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I'm going through a lot. I just need some time to work this shit out. Alessandro. I promise I'm coming back for you."

"Whatever. I'll see you around, Pop."

...

A kick to the side of the bag causes a small tear in the leather. I don't care if the stuffing comes out. The skin over my knuckles is raw, on the cusp of tearing just like the bag. It's not the first time my skin's been broken, and it probably won't be the last.

...

18 Years Ago...

Rrrrrmmm!

Breathe, Alessandro. Breathe.

Mmmff!

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

The pain is blinding as the cold steel blade slices into my back like a hot knife through butter. My eyes bulge, all cried out as the scents of my own bodily fluids fill the air. Duct tape covers my mouth and one of my eyes is swelling shut. Blood drips down my face as I try to figure out where I am.

I was three blocks away from the train station that would take me into Manhattan. Once I was in the city, I'd transfer to the 1 or R train to get on the Staten Island Ferry. Another bus and transfer would get me to fucking Eltingville, where I'd live with my Uncle Oscar for who knows how long.

Only, I never made it to the train. I saw some guy getting thrown around in an alley and stepped in. I may not be able to fight my father, but I wanted to do something to not feel helpless. When I got close, I was grabbed from behind. The sweetest odor flooded my senses before I passed out.

The scent of Coney Island is back in the air. Sweetness from funnel cakes, the sound of the Cyclone's rickety tracks shaking in the distance, and fireworks explode into the night. It's late, after nine. At least, it's still the same day. It's the last day for fireworks before school starts. Seagulls caw and...

FUCK! Another slice into my back has me ready to pass out.

"I'm going to pull this tape off your pretty little mouth, Alice-Andrew. And you're going to tell me what I want to know, Cob peach? Is that how yous guys say it?" He drags and exaggerates an Italian movie accent, managing to piss me off even more than I already am.

When he pulls the tape off, I hock a wad of blood and saliva at the weirdo who snatched me out of an alley. All that gets me is a punch to the gut.

"You fuckin little shit. I'm just trying to finish what I started and you're making this difficult. Tell me where your father's going."

I spit again, but this time onto the floor. There's sand and dirt under my feet. My duffle bag is in the corner of the dark room, and my arms feel like they're about to pop out of their sockets. This lunatic has me hanging, bound by my wrists about three inches above the floor. The irritation of being so close to standing but unable to is torture in itself.

"Untie me and hit me, you fuckin' pussy."

"I'm having way too much fun peeling you like a grape."

"What kind of psycho peels grapes?" I ask with every breath harder than the last.

"I am not crazy or psychotic, asshole. I'm focused. I finish what I start. No matter what."

"Fuckin' kill me already, then. I don't know where my father is or where he's going. I have every piece of clothing in that bag. Do you think he gives a fuck about me? Sending me to live with my uncle. Why the fuck would he tell me where he's going?"

"Beg."

"For what?"

"Your life. I'll think about letting you go if you beg me."

"I don't beg, and I've seen your face. You're not letting me go. Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit. Macchia di merda. Mio padre ti ucciderà se non ti uccido io prima."

"In English, you fucking peasant."

I mumble the translation under my breath. The effects of whatever he knocked me out with are wearing off, which has my body's adrenaline surging. I just need him to get closer. He leans in just enough for me to scream in pain as I grab the rope binding my wrists to a beam above me. Pulling my own body weight up, I'm able to wrap my legs around his torso. He flails, jerking his arms up and down to get me off, but my legs haven't been touched.

He manages to stab me once in the thigh, but I squeeze tighter until he drops the knife. Once he does that, I twist and contort my body in a way that smothers his face until I hear the sounds of his jaw crushing. He stops moving, and I drop him.

Out like a light.

"I said, my father will kill you if I don't kill you first." I spit at the lump of human scum on the floor.

While my adrenaline pumps, I desperately pull myself up a few feet of rope to get myself halfway onto the metal beam above. Thank God it's rusty as I use it to saw through the fraying rope. I drop to the floor and pick up the knife. I summon another burst of energy to slice this asshole from ear to ear, letting him bleed onto the dirty floor. The pain radiating from my back and shoulders is mind-numbing. I can't stop moving or I'll pass out.

I find the door and let myself out of the basement in an abandoned duplex row home, three blocks away from fucking Coney Island. The nearest street sign reads Surf Avenue as I hear voices. Normally, I avoid police like the fucking plague because of who my father is, but I need help. I hear them directing traffic, telling people not to stop and look at the fireworks. My pulse races, and tears finally fall as I step closer and closer.

"Hey! Hey, kid! What the fuck happened to you?" Someone shouts from behind me. "Somebody help that kid!"

"Help me." They're the last words I mumble before passing out at the feet of New York's Finest.

...

"Argh. Fuck!" I hit the bag with such force, it splits where my fist lands and my knuckles are bloody. I come out of my memories with the pain still searing across the scar on my back. Tears stream down my face, and the woman I love doesn't love me.

It's fine.

I was fine before this, and I'll be fine after it. It takes me a minute to pull myself together. Another shower and wrapping my hands in gauze have me ready to go another round. Instead, I go into Evelyn's room, but she's not there.

When the aroma of sweet and savory food wafts through the door, I know where she is. The kitchen is buzzing with whatever she's frying and whatever she's boiling.

"Turn all this shit off. I'm taking you to your father's place," I tell her.

The shock in her eyes is jarring. "Alessandro, talk to me. What happened?"

"You're in danger with me. Just, just do it, okay? I'm going to take care of this, and I don't need you here, distracting me from being the man I need to be, the monster, the butcher. Get your shoes on and let's go."

"What about my stuff?" She's flustered with tears welling in her eyes, but I turn my compassion off because it's deterring me from making the choice I should have made weeks ago. I should have never agreed to this shit.

"Get your shit on and let's go, Evelyn." I'm fuming, but she drops everything and rushes upstairs. It sounds too much like my grieving father. I go upstairs after her, but her door is locked.

The bathroom door is easier to break down, so I go through my bedroom with the ring box catching my eye from its inconspicuous spot on my dresser. Evelyn's so oblivious. I left it out in hopes she'd see it, and she never noticed it, but she was also recovering from that accident. I let it go, but now, after hearing that she still wants me to keep my promise for divorce, why would she look at it?

I slip it into my pocket, knowing I can bring it back to Pop after I take her to her father's house. I'm ready to charge through the bathroom, but she's in there, emptying her products into a bag.

"I'll be ready in two minutes," she says abruptly. Her eyes refuse to meet mine.

"Mio-"

"Don't you dare call me that after that shit downstairs. Ain't nothing sweet about get your shit, Evelyn."

"I'm sorry. I'll be in the car."

Evelyn gets in the car. Her gaze and entire body shift toward the door to avoid looking at me. I shoot Lorenzo a text telling him what's up. The drive to Brooklyn is quiet, silent outside of the noise from cars whizzing by and the repetitive drone of my tires over the expressway.

The car barely comes to a stop before she hops out and heads inside. I reach into the back seat to grab her bag to bring it in to where Don Rossi is standing in the doorway. His wife is behind him as he steps outside and closes the door behind him, closing me out of their home.

"She's staying here until I get things situated for work. I have a heavy caseload, and La Familia doesn't seem to be a problem."

"It's for the best, you know? She was seeing this guy, Johnny, before I roped her into this thing with you. It's good that you brought her home. They can get back together, and uh, she can move on with a guy not in the life, you know?"

"You and Oz have a lot of fucking nerve. I told you two this was shit before it happened, and it's a disaster now. Just know that I love her, and for your sake, nothing had better happen to her?—"

"Don't come here threatening me, Alessandro. You don't fucking scare me. You just admitted your weakness. You love her. That means if you hurt me, she'll never speak to you again. Right now, she's only mad at you. You touch a hair on my head, and she'll disappear. And you know what? I welcome it," he sneers and goes back into the house.

My hands flex under the strain of the gauze as I bite back my anger. Deep breath in and deep breath out. I fumble around my pocket for the keys to the car, the ring box falls, and I kneel to pick it up. The door opens just in time for Zena Rossi to see me putting the box back in my pocket.

"What was that?" she asks in a sing-song voice.

Without any energy to fight another Rossi woman, I pull out the box and show it to her. Her eyes grow wide and the corners of her mouth reach toward them. It's the happiest I've ever seen this woman.

"This is for my Evie?"

"It was," I tell her as she hands it back to me.

"Was?"

"Yeah, Don Rossi has made it clear that she should get back together with Johnny, and Evelyn's made it clear that she wants this marriage annulled. I'm a fucking fool. I thought this shit was real. My mother's rings deserve to be with someone who wants to be with me, you know?"

"I do know. And I'm sorry about your mother, Rosalie, Alessandro. She was a wonderful woman, friend, mother, everything. She was so perfect that every wife wanted to be like her until that shit happened. And then what happened to you? A boy needs his mother. Thank you for bringing her home."

"Thank you for letting me love her, even if only for a little while. I'll see you around, Mrs. Rossi."

"Take care of yourself, Alessandro."