Page 223 of Vita Mia

“Renaldo was my best friend. I should have been there.”

Carlo could tell his boss’s angst over Renaldo still festered so he dropped the subject.

“Andiamo,” he said to Giovanni who wore fatigues and dark sunglasses. “I want to see my old friend, the warden.”

Carlo removed his butcher’s knife. He handed it over to Giovanni who stared at it for a moment then accepted it. Giovanni headed for the clay hut. He walked inside where the temperature had to be cooler than outside but still near the high 90’s. The place was fully guarded. It was why Carlo was able to spend time away. When he first dragged Antoni Fassino there. It took restraint. He had his fun. More fun than he was certain Giovanni would approve of. Still, he left the warden alive. And to make sure of it he only visited once a week.

Inside the warden sat on a pail that was turned over. He ate from a small clay plate with his fingers. His body was taunt and covered with bruises. Life in the village had been hard. He had more facial hair than he had on his head. And he wore shackles to his feet and wrist. The moment Giovanni appeared the warden stopped chewing and sat back. He dropped the plate.

Nico and Carlo found a startled broken man before them. A man unworthy of his position in life. But even then, they could see the defiance in the warden’s hard glare at Giovanni.

“So, you’re free,” the warden stated rather than asked.

Giovanni looked down at the long butcher knife and then to the warden. He threw it to the ground and it stuck in the soil with the hand carved handle pointed north. The warden looked at the instrument of death and then to Giovanni.

“Whatever freedom you have is temporary Giovanni Battaglia if you don’t release me. Haven’t you learned by now, no one escapes.”

“That includes you,” Nico said. “You’re not talking your way out of this.”

The warden’s gaze swiveled to Carlo and then lowered to the food he dropped. “I regret nothing. You’re the wild dogs of society, scavenging off the hardworking innocent people of the Campania. I did a service to my country, my people, I die in peace.”

“You are no martyr. You did no service to innocent or guilty, and this isn’t about your penance or redemption. I don’t need that knife. We will do to you what you have done to hundreds of our people. What you did to Renaldo, exactly as you did to Renaldo. You say his name over and over again for mercy before I stomp you into hell.”

The warden shook his head and pleaded with ramblings of money and the ability to pay for his life. Giovanni ignored him. Nico began to remove his shirt as Giovanni stood and unbuttoned his own. It was a bloody business that they needed to attend too. And they didn’t need weapons for it.

“Safe travels Carlo.”

“Maybe we’ll see each other again someday?” Carlo asked.

Giovanni shook his head no, and never looked back at Carlo. He continued to stare at the warden. “Go, and never look back.”

Carlo glanced to his friend Nico. He smiled his goodbye. Nico nodded his. He walked out to the warden’s screams for mercy. The jeep waited for him. He hopped in it thinking that Abedi would be furious that he left the country without saying goodbye. He didn’t care. He was done withil macellaio,he would return to America as Luca. He was ready for his new life.

***

PRESENT -2018

“Mum?” said MiaBella. She had knocked on the door just as Mirabella concluded. She and Eve looked to her youngest daughter who entered cautiously. “Sorry to interrupt. I saw Ryder. He said you canceled the rest of the interview?”

“Come inside,” Mirabella said.

Eve nodded that MiaBella should join them. She scooted over on the small sofa to give her room. MiaBella sat down and looked at her mother curiouslly. Mirabella faced her daughters. She knew that Gino watched her from the camera and Gianni was somewhere nearby.

“I think we should talk about the purpose of this interview, since we’re done.”

“Done? Ryder said—” MiaBella interjected.

Mirabella put up her hand. “Done with the part of the story you know. Now I need to share the truth of what happened. Why Papa died. Why you had to spend years without him.”

“The truth? We know why he died. We know what you two did,” Eve said bitterly.

“Don’t be mean to her Eve,” MiaBella pleaded.

“Be quiet Mia. You were too young to understand. But I wasn’t. I remember everything. How I cried myself to sleep. How I blamed myself for Papa’s death. How lonely I was when mummy sent me away. Finally, I got to go to school. I just didn’t know that it meant I was kicked out of the family to do so.”

“I only wanted to protect you,” Mirabella said.

“No. You protected them and Papa’s secret. You sent me away. You let me think that I had no family and then tried to reason with yourself that it was for my own good. Was it mum? Was it for me, or was it for you both?”

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