Page 5 of My Solemn Vow
It’s nice to have someone on this planet who wants me in their life. She’ll be excited when I tell her the news, but hearing her say how much she wants me back home is nice.
“Well, if you’re not coming home, then maybe I should do what you did? Apply to grad school in some faraway land. Get a master’s and then, one step further, a PhD to avoid everyone.” Leticia tries to sound strong in that decision.
“I’d help you pack.” I encourage her while knowing full wellthat she got homesick during the one spring break she spent with me out here in New York.
With one more look at my bedroom, I breathe a relaxing sigh of relief. I’m grateful I don’t need to sell the big pieces of furniture since I rented this apartment fully furnished. It’ll be a relatively easy move back to my uncle’s penthouse in the Gold Coast of Chicago.
“You’d need to be here first.” Leticia pauses. “Wait. Does that mean you’re coming home?”
“Yes, I already got the job you’re telling me about. Well, no, not that exact job. I’m teaching second grade, accelerated learners, not kindergarten.” I quickly remove the phone from where I had it pressed it to my ear with my shoulder.
Leticia’s scream is so loud I’m sure everyone in the massive seven-thousand-square-foot Casa D’Medici heard.
“Shhhh.” I bring the phone back to my ear when her excited squeals subside. “I’m not sure where I’m living yet.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Leticia scoffs. “Where else would you live if not at home?”
“I don’t know, get an apartment in River North? Any place not in Gold Coast? It would be a closer commute to school,” I answer, pulling out the next drawer to put more clothes into the suitcase. “The only issue is the bodyguard.” I giggle, thinking about the conversation I already had in my head about this, and then choose to relay it to her. “‘Oh, yes, hello, Mrs. Neighbor. Oh, for work? I’m a second-grade teacher, and this is my bodyguard Enzo’ or maybe something like, ‘Oh, yeah, my uncle, Gregorio D’Medici, crime boss, wants me to keep him as a pet. Feel free to give Enzo coffee or pastries when you see him in the hallway.’ Those aren’t normal things you say to people.”
“Oh my God, could you even imagine if that was?” Leticia giggles before musing, “Poor Enzo. Not that he would be assigned back to you, it’d probably be one of the newer men. Enzo is getting close with Berto. I heard them talkingabout a supplier and Russians. Of course, when I asked, all I got was ‘It’s men’s work. You need to go back to the kitchen with Mom.’”
“Ugh,” I huff and try closing the lid on my suitcase. Even thinking about what kind of business they could be getting into has me on edge. “Gregorio is going with the Russians?”
“Hell if I know,” Leticia murmurs. “It’s not like they tell me anything. I’m a woman. Did I tell you I cut my hair?”
“You did it?” I gasp, letting go of the suitcase lid since it’s not zipping easily.
Leticia was blessed with beautiful golden hair, an oddball among the family of various shades of brown. She’s been through countless battles with her mother, Francesca, about how she’s not allowed to cut it beyond a trim and light layering. Despite being twenty-three, Leticia has never gone against her mother’s wishes.
I sit on the bed next to my suitcase to focus.
“I didn’t do all of it.” Leticia huffs in stiff disappointment with herself. “I was too afraid to do the splash of color we talked about, but I went from waist length to chest length.”
“Okay. Wow.” I’ve never had a problem telling Francesca and Gregorio that they don’t run my life. But for their daughter? This is a huge step in breaking the cycle away from the overbearing parents. “How did that go over?”
“There was some crying,” Leticia admits, and I can practically hear her wincing.
“You or Francesca?” I clarify.
The sweat from packing is making my skin sticky, so I shake my T-shirt to try and cool myself down.
“Both,” Leticia mumbles. “I held strong until she started crying. I told her I’m an adult and she had to accept that I needed some change.” She sighs, and I think I hear her flop down on the bed. “But then she said she didn’t want me to turn out like you. That God wouldn’t forgive her if she had a disobedient daughter, and how could I do this to her? She literally leftto go to church and pray for me. And that’s when I went to my room and cried.”
“It’s a haircut. You didn’t deserve for her to treat you like that.” My heart hurts for Leticia.
I’m the rebel of the family, but I come by it honestly. My father, the second-born son, was raised to be my uncle Gregorio’s consigliere when Gregorio took over as head of the family. Dad tried to bring the ‘family’ business into a more modern era and away from the classic men’s club sexist shit. As a result, unlike Leticia, I was always encouraged to be unique and do all the things my cousin, Berto, Leticia’s brother, did.
“It’s not like I took you to get a tattoo or another piercing.”
“I know.” Leticia’s voice is small, and it pisses me off.
I stand up off the bed and then start pacing, angry on her behalf. I pull my other suitcase out of the closet and put her on speaker, setting the phone on the overfull suitcase I’m done with. “It’ll be okay. I’ll come home, show them my newest tattoo, and they’ll be so focused on me that they’ll forget all about your haircut.”
“When are you coming home?” Leticia whispers like she’s hiding some big secret.
“I’m finishing packing as we speak. My lease is up at the end of the month. And I figured I’d talk to Berto about where to live.” I groan thinking about how that conversation will go. Berto and I don’t see eye to eye.
He’s a traditionalist and would gladly cut me out in a heartbeat if it weren’t for my father’s wishes. But once upon a time, when we were children in the same classes, we used to be friends. Sometimes, I catch glimpses of that boy, but they’re getting fewer and further between.
