Queen of secrets, p.15
Queen of Secrets, page 15
Do not come after me, or I will deny everything to protect you. If anyone were to find out, I don’t know what Frank would do. If you love me, you’ll move on with your life. I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused you and your family. I hope one day you’ll understand why I had to leave, and that you’ll forgive me.
Please know that you are the only man to possess my soul. My answer will always be YES, but it’s no longer up to me, and I know that now.
I leave here without a heart~
May God bless you and protect you,
Vi
I folded the note and placed it on the kitchen table. I climbed into bed and held him in my arms one last time.
I rose before the sun. Because I didn’t want to wake Gaetano, I quietly slid on my dress and grabbed my bags and shoes. I blew him one last kiss and walked out the door. I made my way toward the workers’ cabins. Walking fast in the early morning light, I held back tears so my emotions wouldn’t alarm José. I found him loading equipment into his truck.
“Hello, José.”
“Hola,” he said with wide eyes. “Is everything okay with Señor Sanna?”
“Gaetano woke up sick today. I told him to stay warm in bed and rest. I think he has a small fever. He wanted a favor. I need to be on the first bus because my father is expecting me later this afternoon. Will you please drive me to the bus station?”
“Si, I can take you. Are you sure he okay?” he asked with one eyebrow cocked.
“He’s fine. Maybe a cold from being outside when we drank all that smooth tequila of yours.”
“You like it?”
“Oh yes, it was wonderful,” I said, then looked down at my watch.
“Okay, I get the keys,” he said.
While José went to get his keys, the sun rose over the horizon, warming everything in its path. Rays of light gave the land the life it needed; but for my life, there’d only be darkness.
Standing on the Edge of a Knife
The ride home to the ranch was brutal. As the bus drove along the highway, thoughts of ending my life plagued my mind. Visions of my mother’s body over my casket and her grieving face stopped me. I knew how it felt to lose someone you love, and I couldn’t put her through that kind of misery. If I counted on anything, I’d be back in Gaetano’s arms in heaven where I’d answer only to God—not the Mafia.
There was stillness in my world where no wind would ever rustle my soul again. My only peace of mind came in knowing that I’d saved everyone from danger.
When I arrived at the train station, I called the house for someone to pick me up.
“Tony, it’s Vi. Can you come get me? I’m at the train station downtown.”
“Jesus, Vi, you got everyone worried sick over here. Where you been?”
“We can talk later. Just come and get me.”
“All right. It’s a good thing it’s me who answered this phone. Pop is ready to tan your ass.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, then hung up the pay phone.
I came in the door with my head held low, waiting for the interrogation. Pop grabbed his belt off his pants and hit me across the butt. I’d been smacked with the strap before, but this time there was a lot more force than usual.
“Ouch, stop. Please,” I screamed back.
“What da hella were you tinking? We worry alla night for you,” he exclaimed as he went in for another blow.
Trying to dodge his advances, I hid behind Mama who, like Pop, stood screaming at me too.
“You wit dat boy? You disgrace da family. If da Molanano find out they a gonna tink you una puttana. It willa ruin all my plans,” he scolded. “You tink I a stunad. I no stupid. We see Julia’s moter at da church dis Sunday. She say she dona know where you are. But Julia coma here and pick you up. You lie to us.” Pop’s eyes blazed.
I sat on the couch, hands covering my face, and sobbed.
“Papa, please, I needed to see him one last time. I didn’t sleep in the same room as him. I slept in their guesthouse. Signor Sanna didn’t even know I was there,” I said to cover any potential problems for Signor Sanna. “He doesn’t want any bad blood between our families.”
“Did dat boy tell you to coma der?”
“No, it was my idea,” I said defiantly.
For the rest of the afternoon, I explained everything, except for the part that I’d slept with Gaetano. I didn’t want to break Pop’s heart. Another part of me thought, if I’d told them I’d had sex with Gaetano, I’d be free from Frank, for good. Frank would never take me, knowing I’d been with another man. But Frank’s Sicilian ego wouldn’t allow Gaetano to get away with it. He’d make him pay. Not to mention that it would cause a huge rift between my family and the Molanano family. The Molananos would take it as a breach of contract and the lines of loyalty would be drawn. If that happened, my family’s safety would be in jeopardy, and all of this would have been for nothing.
“You no speaka about dis, you a hear me?” Pop commanded. “We have a lie to da Molanano family. To Di Natale. Now looka what you do. Der were rumors about you. Even you brother Tony, he lie for you. You canno tell no one what happened. You hear me?”
“Yes. I understand.”
“Now you listena me. You gonna get married to da Di Natale boy and das it,” he said as he smacked his belt down on the coffee table one last time before putting it back on.
I grabbed my bag and went straight to my room. When I came in, Carmela was on the bed.
“Sorry, Vi. I tried to lie for you,” she said with concern.
“Thanks,” I said as tears made themselves known again. “It’s not your fault.”
I confided everything to my sister. She knew I’d have to marry someone I didn’t love. It felt cruel and unfair, but with my sacrifice, I’d saved my family and the Sanna family from danger. I held on to my sister and wailed into her arms for what felt like an eternity.
Drained from a week’s worth of tears, I moped around the house with a red nose and an empty heart. I had no hunger for life and no desire for meaningless conversation. The night before my wedding, and I wanted nothing more than to be alone. I needed a place to grieve without being questioned.
As I walked around my room, looking at old pictures on the walls, I realized this was my last night here. Tomorrow, I’d be married and would leave my childhood behind. There were so many memories of my time with Carm in this room—from the tiny desk that sat in the corner where we studied as schoolgirls, to our bed where we shared secrets. The room represented my youth. Living with Frank, despite being close by, felt like I’d be miles away.
Everything about tomorrow was a lie. I’d block it all out of my mind and wait for it to be over. Then would come the hard part: being the wife of a gangster. My desperate feelings drove me to an all too familiar place—the deep, dark abyss. A place where happiness doesn’t exist but where sleep is welcomed to shut off the pain. So, I lay back in bed, closed my eyes, and fell into darkness.
At two in the morning, I pulled back the drapes. Frank and Tony stood around, drinking with a group of wise guys in the back. One guy had the nerve to shoot his gun in the air.
The windows rattled.
“What the hell are they doing anyway? We have a wedding tomorrow,” Carmela muttered, then turned over in bed.
“Acting stupid. You know Frank. Any excuse to party,” I said and rolled my eyes. I cracked the window and yelled, “Basta. Shut up! We gotta get up early in the morning. What the hell are you guys doing out there? You’re being so loud, Pop’s gonna get mad.”
“Oh yeah?” Frank yelled, then threw a beer bottle against the side of the house.
Shards of glass ricocheted off the window. Spray splashed my face.
“You tell him to come outside and say somethin’ to me about the noise. I’ll make as much God damn noise as I want.”
“That’s it. I’m going out there.” I slammed the window shut and marched outside.
One step off the back porch, Frank charged at me, stinking of liquor. His eyes took me in the way an animal examines prey. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me up against the back door. Hinges snapped. Frank put one hand around my throat and, with the other, he pointed in my face.
“Hey, you listen to me. I heard that when we were gone, you were out whoring around town. Is it true?” he asked, slurring his words.
I tried to push his hand off my neck, but the attempt only tightened his grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I spent time with a friend,” I said, trying to get the words out from under his hold.
His eyes burned with rage. His foul-smelling saliva pelted my face. “If I find out that you let anyone touch my property, I will fuckin’ kill you and them. Capeesh? Nobody makes a fool out of Frank Di Natale. You got that?”
He reached under my nightgown and grabbed my crotch.
“Get your hands off me.” I spat at him. “We’re not married yet, you pig.”
With all his body weight, Frank crushed me against the door and shoved his fingers inside me. I tried to fight him, but he was strong. After a few tugs, he whispered, “Nice and ripe just like I like ‘em. Wet too. You like that, huh?” He pulled out his hand and smelled his fingers. “Mmm . . .” His eyes rolled back in his head.
I fought off the urge to vomit. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever seen.
“What the fuck you doing to my sister?” Tony shouted, then ripped Frank off of me. With Frank’s shirt twisted in his hands, Tony, a good six-foot-two, towered over Frank. “Don’t you ever touch my sister like that again, or we’ll have a problem.”
Frank put his hands down. Just as Tony let him go, Frank produced a knife and stuck it to Tony’s throat. “Mind your fucking business, boy. You hear me?” Frank said through clenched teeth. “This ain’t none of your concern. By morning, she’ll be my wife, and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with her, you hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah, all right, calm down, Frank,” Tony said as he fought for footing. “Jesus Christ, man, you’re drunk.” Tony gripped Frank’s hand to prevent him from slicing his throat.
Frank laughed and pulled the knife away from Tony’s throat. “I’m the new boss of this family. If it wasn’t for the Molanano family and my father, you people wouldn’t have a God damn thing. Remember that.” Frank spat at Tony’s feet. He swayed from the effects of the alcohol and slid the knife back into his pocket. “Make no mistake, with this marriage, my family owns the Giordano family. And if you love your pop like I think you do, you’d best remember who I am.”
Papa stormed out with his gun. “Che cazzo? What da hell isa goin’ on here? We sleepin’, and we hear a gun. Tell dis guys itsa time to go home,” my father ordered. “Whatsa matter you, Franco? Itsa you wedding tomorra.”
“My apologies, Giuseppe. We’re just having fun, right, Tony?” he said and laughed a phony laugh.
“Yeah, sure. A lot of fun,” Tony said under his breath, then shook his head, avoiding Pop’s stare.
“Everybody, go to bed.” Pop went inside and slammed the door behind him.
Tony pushed his way past me and punched a hole in the side of the house. I wondered if he would tell my father what happened.
I shook my head at Frank.
He laughed and stumbled. His body swayed. “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, doll. We were kidding around.”
“You disgust me.” I turned on my heels and locked the back door.
As I walked to my bedroom, I heard Frank scream into the black night air, “Disgusting, huh? A pig, you say? You stupid bitch. I’m the best man you’ll ever have. Even your father thought so, and that’s all that matters now. Soon, I’ll be runnin’ things. You guys are all hicks up here. I’m living with a bunch of hillbillies and pigs. Ain’t that right? Here piggy, piggy.”
I crawled back in bed and listened to Carmela snore as adrenaline coursed through my frail body, leaving me limp and nauseated. Most brides are excited the night before their wedding, but I was scared out of my mind. This was the first real glimpse I’d seen of Frank’s abusive behavior. I never thought I would ever let a man lay a hand on me. Would I be strong enough to protect myself from him?
Mafia Queen
East San Jose Foothills, Giordano Estate
December 2002
Barbara
The smell of pine and tree wax stung my nose the moment I walked into the house.
Oh no. What did Ms. G. do now?
I threw my medical bag on the table and rushed to the sound of the television. In the living room stood one of the biggest Christmas trees I’d ever seen. The top was bent up against the ceiling.
“Nice of you to finally show up today,” said Ms. G. as she stood, admiring her tree.
I peered down at my watch. “I’m five minutes early.”
“Not according to my watch,” she said, then crossed her arms.
“This is the kind of tree you see in a bank, not a house. How’d you get it in here?”
“My nephew works at a tree lot downtown. Poor kid just got out of prison. This is the only kind of job he can get now, so I made a call and, well, here it is. Isn’t it beautiful?” She stroked one of the branches.
“Well, it looks healthy. Not at all dry,” I said, inspecting the needles. “But did you have to get the biggest one on the lot?”
“My father used to get the biggest tree, so I figured I’d do the same. Besides, this is the first time in a while that I’ve wanted to decorate a tree. Plus, I got you to help me decorate the damn thing, so let’s get started.”
“You know the protocol. I have to examine you first.” I reached into my medical bag for my stethoscope.
“I’m fine. Can’t you see I’m fine?”
“You look great, but I still have to check you out. That’s my job.”
I listened to her heart, a heart that had been broken so many years ago and thought about all she’d told me and how strong she’d been. Would I have the strength to walk away from someone I loved? From what Ms. G. told me about Frank, it seemed as though our stories were more similar than I’d first thought. I looked up at her and smiled.
She pulled the stethoscope up to her mouth and spoke loudly into it. “You done yet? I told ya I’m fine.”
“Yes. Things sound pretty good today.” I pulled the stethoscope from my ears with a smirk on my face.
Today. With Christmas approaching, I realized I’d been here every day for almost three months. I remembered how unbearable my first few days had been. Her constant nasty tone and demands made me want to quit. I wasn’t sure if it was fear of her family or her stories that made me stay, but when I looked at her now, she was different. Her stories endeared me to her.
“Hey, you okay, kid? You look all googly-eyed. Time to do the damn tree,” she said, then tried to undo the blood pressure cuff.
Nope. I was wrong. Still as feisty as ever.
“Let’s get started,” I said. “Dear Jesus, please help me,” I added with a whisper and grabbed for the St. Christopher’s medal that hung around my neck. “Do you have a ladder? There’s no way I can get the angel up there without one.”
“Yeah, in the garage.”
I went to the garage and flipped on the light switch. I’d never been in there before. An old red Cadillac sat partly covered with a dusty sheet. Looked like it hadn’t been driven in years. Likely, since her license had been taken away.
My leg bumped into an old desk and knocked papers on the floor.
Damn. Another bruise. All I needed.
I rubbed the sting from my leg and bent over to pick up the dusty pages—medical notes for a patient named Caruso, signed G.G.
My curious mind got the best of me, and I poked around the desk drawers. Not sure what I hoped to find, but from what Ms. G. told me about this house, I never knew what I might come across.
I found old business cards. After brushing off little bits of dust, I read,
Giuseppe Giordano, Masseuse, Giordano Horse Racing and Breeding
I ran my hands through the cards and found another one.
The next one read: Violetta Di Natale, Medical Assistant & Bookkeeper
As I continued to snoop, I came upon a leather medical bag. Inside was an old-fashioned stethoscope, a few tarnished scalpels and retractors, and various other medical tools. Mr. Giordano had done his fair share of surgeries in his time.
I put the instruments back into the bag and shut the desk drawers. I knew Ms. G. pretty well. If I didn’t come up with that ladder soon, she’d start complaining, so I continued my search.
Because she kept everything, the garage was hard to maneuver around. I contorted my body between the car and the carpentry table along the far wall. An antique shotgun hung on rusty metal hooks. Too afraid to take it down, I stroked the tarnished, cold metal barrel. I wondered if this was the same shotgun her mother once carried around the property.
“What in the hell is taking you so damn long?” Ms. G. yelled from the doorway. “It’s right over there, see it? Right there in front of the old washboard,” she said as she pointed to a dark corner of the garage.
I slid my body around the tight space between the car and the wall and walked where she was pointing. A wooden ladder lay on its side, next to a few cans of paint and an antique washboard. I pulled out the ladder, taking care not to hit her car.
“You know the tree ain’t going to decorate itself. Oh yeah, you see that big box right there—the one with the old paint sheets around it? We need that too.”
“Which one?”
“See that box? It says Xmas. You know how to read, don’t cha? Yeah, that one with all the lights and ornaments in it. Maronn,” she scoffed, then went back into the house.
One by one, I carried the ladder and boxes inside to set up for what appeared to be a day of Christmas decorating. I stood on the ladder and she handed me ornaments, all of which had a story behind them. She handed me something that caught my attention. It was a little crocheted framed picture of her family at someone’s wedding. When I eyed it carefully, I saw that the bride had the same eyes and pointy nose as Ms. G. Blank-faced, she stood like a stone statue next to a man who must have been Frank.
