Page 225 of La Dolce Vita

"Then I'm the monster? Is that right,Bella? You get on your knees to beg for his life. What about my life? What about who I have become, the things I've done because of my cousin. The people who have died. What about Fabiana? You remember that bomb? Do you? And our daughter, the man that chased you into hiding and kept us apart for years. Who fault was that? And your kidnapping. Would Kei have ever injected you with poison that has turned your brain into scrambled eggs? Raped you?"

“Giovanni, stop. He didn’t rape me. We don’t know if he did.”

"I know he did. And I kept that from you Bella. But you don't blinders anymore. You want to sit in the shit of my life and see it all. Well here it is Bella. Kei raped you. More than once."

Mirabella broke down in tears. Giovanni drank from the bottle and watched her. He felt his soul turning black. He felt so much hatred and rage he couldn't summon enough compassion to spare his wife. And that scared him. Deeply.

“When am I first for you? When does my pain mean more than theirs? Where is your fucking loyalty as my wife!"

"That's not what I meant." She wept. "I only wanted."

"To spare them. To convince me that the only way I can be the man you love is to be the man who would forgive anything for you."

"For yourself Gio. Please." She got up. “I’m not choosing them. I’m choosing you.”

"Stai zitto!"he slammed the scotch bottle down on the coffee table. It shattered at the bottom and spoiled everywhere. She feared there was a cut to his hand. "It is done. If he isn't already dead, he will be. And don't you ever come to me on bended knee for the man who put the knife in my back and a rapist in your life. The man who made me a monster because I couldn't stand the thought of not having you. The man who made me miss my lucciola's birth. The man who has laughed at me all this time knowing he killed our Patri. Don' you ever come to me on bended knee again!"

Mirabella didn't know how to respond. She'd never seen him that angry before. He scared her. She wiped her tears and nodded she understood. He dismissed her and went to the chair in the room and sat down.

"Be careful how far you go, Giovanni. Some things you can never come back from. Ask me how I know.” She turned and left him. And it hurt. She never left him when he was in pain. But there was a force field of anger around him now. Tonight wasn’t the night to reach her husband. Tonight was the night they all should pray. Once she walked out of his office and closed his door, she lost all her poise and dignity. She dropped her head back against the wood and cried. For him. She was terrified.

Giovanni got up from behind the desk. He began to pace the floor. Flashbacks of all of his failures and mistakes hit him like lightening bolts. He kicked the coffee table. It tossed over flat with the table legs pointed upward. Keeping the grief at bay since the moment he heard Lorenzo’s confession had been a losing battle. He dropped his face in his hands and groaned so loudly and so long all the air was depleted from his lungs. Everything between him and Lorenzo had burned down to smoke and ash. The truth clawed and snapped its jagged jaws at him like a wild beast pinning him down and preventing his escape. He had to accept it. The pain and suffering was only the beginning. Every dumb, deadly mistake he made because of his cousin returned with unrelenting force.

Portici, Italy

September 12, 1979

“Gio? Gio!”

“I hear you, Patri. I do. But Madre...”

“Your mother is a good woman.” His father slumped back. They occupied a booth reserved for bosses of la Camorra. His dad’s back was to the door. It didn’t matter. There were enough guns in the ristorante loyal to the Battaglia clan that not even the Carabinieri dared to cross the line.

“She wants the best for you. And I gave her that by letting you go to America. To be a lawyer. But that lesson is for Domi. I need you here. Home.”

Giovanni cut his gaze over to his cousin. Lorenzo sat in the booth staring straight ahead. The swelling to his face from the beating Patri put on him hadn’t healed. Dominic had told him the story. Lorenzo wanted in the drug business and had started making deals in the triangle. He dragged the Calderones into the business without approval. When Flavio learned of this, he was the first to tell Patri. The old man had beat him up pretty bad. Since then the rage in his cousin could be felt if not spoken. But no one went against Patri.

“I’m home now. I can do school at a later time.”

“No more school!” Patri slammed his fist down. “If I have to explain it to your mother I will. We leave for Sicily in the morning. I want to see Marsuvio, and his father will see us.”

“Why?” Giovanni asked.

Patri smiled. “It’s a surprise.”

The waitress returned with the bill for the meal. Giovanni paid for it. His father drank down the last of the whiskey he should not have with his bronchitis, and eased out of the booth. Several of his father’s men stood from their tables and started toward the door.

“You know you will never be him,” Lorenzo said. It was the first time his cousin spoke to him since he arrived. “You can pretend to be, but you’ll never be him.”

“Oh yeah? Who says I want to be him?” Giovanni chuckled.

“He says it. He thinks it. He beats on me when you are in school because he wants you. He thinks he can make you into him. But you’ll never be him. Do you want to know why?” Lorenzo asked.

Giovanni sighed. “He beats on you because you keep fucking up. I heard about the drug dealing. You bring this on yourself.”

Lorenzo slammed his fist down on the table. “Vaffanculo!” He removed his sunglasses as the waitress returned with Giovanni’s change. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and the other was red and puffy. “The reason you will never be him is because you’re better than him, Gio. You’re better than me. We all see it. You should get up, walk away, and never look back. Don’t go to Sicily. Go back to America and start a life. Forget about us. Leave this shit behind you.”

“So you can take over? Is that it, cousin? So you can be Patri?”

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