Page 197 of La Dolce Vita

Mirabella felt the bed move. She opened her eyes. Shadows were everywhere. She sat up and leaned back on her elbows. Her vision adjusted. A man sat on the edge of the bed. His head turned. It was Kei. Mirabella gasped. The air in her lungs clogged in her throat and prevented her scream. He was there. He was real. He was smiling at her. And then like a vapor of smoke he dissolved and disappeared.

Gasping for air she tossed aside the covers and clutched her chest. It was a dream. The first nasty one she had experienced in a long time. But why now? The trip was healing her. Why did she see him again?

She couldn't catch her breath. She had to get out of that room. Out of the house. She grabbed her robe and hurried out into the hall.

The darkness in the house followed her. She descended the steps as if she were in a dream. But no dream ever felt so real. She could feel the cold touch of the hardwoods under her bare feet. She could feel the chill that often lingered, no matter the season, on the floor. She could smell the last meal cooked in her Me-Ma's kitchen. It was like perfume in the air. And as she came off the step she felt even colder. Mirabella walked through the darkness and stopped. A man stood at the record player. He dropped the needle on a spinning black disc.

"Granddaddy?"

He had a crown of gray hair, bald to the front and center. He looked back at her, and she could still see the gray in his sideburns and mustache. Abel Ellison was a tall man. He stood close to six foot three. He wore suspenders, always. Even when lounging at home, he wore a pressed white shirt, dress slacks, and suspenders. And if working the farm, he would switch to overalls. Tonight he had on the suit she buried him in. He stared at her. No expression, nothing. He just stared. Her heart beat so fast it exploded in her chest.

"I miss you," she said.

He smiled. The song ‘Welcome Back Home,’ by the Dramatics was set to play. The needle dropped on the spinning vinyl. The intro played beautifully. The calm melodic verse being the only words between them. Her grandfather extended his hand to her.

Welcome back home... where you belong.... I'm the one that loves you...

Mirabella was in his arms. She didn't know how, but she was holding on to the only father she'd ever known. She wept against his chest. She held as tight as she could to him, and the memory of him. His spicy cologne enveloped her. He kissed the top of her head.

I really really love you. Forgive me...

"I don't care, Granddaddy. I don't care what any of them say. I love you too. So much. And I'm so sorry. For everything. I should have told you about the baby. I should have. I was so scared. I made a mistake. A terrible mistake."

Welcome back home. Where you belong.The music played and then faded as did her grandfather’s hold. Mirabella opened her eyes with her arms extended as if in an invisible embrace. She stood in her living room in the dark. The Dramatics had crooned the words of love before their voices disappeared, and the needle lifted from the spinning record. In disbelief, she looked around for her grandfather. He wasn't there. She smelled his cologne all over her. She sniffed her arms and smelled him. Confused and hurt over her loss, she stumbled back and sat down on the sofa.

Maybe she was crazy?

The truth was, she never wanted to know why her mother’s pictures weren't on the mantel. Why her grandmother would spend hours locked away in the attic. Something in the family was wrong, and she knew it caused her grandparents lots of pain. As a little girl, all she wanted to do was make them proud. To make up for the sadness, she could see in their eyes. A burden that wasn't hers. Why did they live with so many lies?

Mirabella climbed the stairs and walked back to her room. She eased in under the covers and closed her eyes. One of her babies scooted in close to her. She didn’t open her eyes to see who. She just held her child as tight to her heart as she could without waking him. And she drifted back to sleep.

***

Marietta couldn't sleep. When she got up to get a glass of water she saw her sister coming down the stairs. She almost said something to her. She didn't. From the kitchen she watched her. Mirabella played a record. She swayed as if she were holding a person. When the song ended she turned and went back up the stairs. In a trance. It was as if she were sleepwalking. Concerned she followed her. She found her asleep. Mirabella still refused to talk about everything they learned. And Marietta had yet to share the news of their mother’s diary. Her sister needed time and space. She gave it to her.

Eventually, she did make it back to the kitchen. She was pouring a glass of water when Giovanni and Lorenzo walked inside. She almost dropped the glass at their state. Both men had blood on their clothes and looked haggard and red-eyed. They must have driven through the night.

“Marie...” Lorenzo began.

Marietta put her finger up to her lip to silence him. She walked out of the kitchen and looked them over. Whatever crime they committed she didn’t want to know. She didn’t need to know. “Get undressed. Down to your boxers and leave the clothes there,” she said.

Giovanni frowned. He glanced to his cousin.

“Unless you want to wake your children and your wife like that?” Marietta crossed her arms and gave Giovanni a challenging glare. Lorenzo began to strip. Giovanni shrugged and did the same. Marietta went into the kitchen and got a trash bag.

"When I was in Chicago I had a customer; he used to come to the club to see me dance." She shook out the garbage bag. He was a police officer. A forensic police officer. He used to tell me things. How the police could always tie people to the crime through blood. A victim's blood on them. We burn these clothes. You two shower again and again until all of it is washed off. Leave the socks too."

"Thanks, babe, can you fix me something to eat?" Lorenzo said and kissed her cheek. He walked off with a big yawn and climbed the stairs.

Giovanni handed her the clothes.

"Is Cutter gone?" Marietta asked.

"Who’s Cutter?" Giovanni answered.

Marietta looked up into Giovanni’s blue eyes. He stared into hers. She smiled. "I think we should head home soon. I don't care how you handle things, Giovanni. We're safer home. Especially now. She's safer home."

Marietta began to stuff the garbage bag with the last of their stuff.

---