Page 6 of Fall
“They did,” I confirm, and I’m suddenly angry all over again about everything.All of it. My mother’s illness, her death, having no one in our corner, being split up, being treated like animals. “And no one’s letting me see them,” I shout. “I have a right to see my brothers.”
Romano turns to his men. “Get Sansoretti out here,” he instructs them, then he studies me closely again. “Tell him to hurry. It's cold out. You hungry?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where’s thisshithole you’re living at now?”
I tense up at the question, reminded of the trouble I left there. “Nowhere. Not anymore. I just left the last place they sent me. The guy was drunk all the time. He just uses the other foster kids for a regular monthly check, when he’s not beating them up. I had to stand up for myself.”
“So you ran away?”
“Yes… you could say so,” I answer, intentionallyleaving out the part about possibly killing the man before I started running.
“What's the name of this man?” he probes. I’m not too keen on answering, but the way he stares at me with each question, it’s as though he’s trying to figure me out. To read me. And I can tell that no one gets away with lying to this important man.
"Bill Williamson," I say honestly and know this is probablythe end for me. "He lives out on Crestwood County Road. Look, Mr. Romano, I won't lie to you. I had a fight with him earlier. He was going to hit me, so I decided not to stick around there. After that, he reached for a shotgun and tried to shoot me. But I stopped him. The rest was an accident."
“What do you mean the rest?”
“He might be … I think he’s dead.”
His eyes shootback and forth between my face, my hands, and the man behind me. “You… you killed your foster father? Tonight?”
“It was an accident,” I explain in a defensive plea, and without thinking, I blurt out, “But sometimes you have to break the law to do what's right.”
He motions to one of his men standing behind me. "Send someone over there. Bill Williamson. Crestwood County Road," he orders,and then he returns his gaze to me. "Where's your things?"
I point toward the bushes at the corner. “Over there.”
The front door of the house opens and my kid brothers’ foster dad steps outside.
“Go grab your things,” Romano instructs me, and heads for Sansoretti.
By the time I get my bag and return to them, I've missed much of the conversation they have under theirbreaths. But I know some of it was about me. I overhear bit and pieces, like when Sansoretti explained that I was trouble. That I tried to run away with the kids after school right after my mother died. Romano asks why the man didn't let him know that Marjorie was dead. That's my mother's first name. At another point, he asks how he could allow outside people to spread DeLucci's kids across town.
I don’t catch much more of their conversation, but I’m damned interested to find out more. Romano is talking like he knows both my parents, yet I’ve never met him before tonight. Not in person or face to face, anyway. And Mom never mentioned his name before. But then again, she never said a word about our father. All she ever said was that he was gone, and was never coming back. If thismob boss knows more about my family than I do, the longer I stick with him, the more likely I’ll get answers.
When their muffled discussion ends, both Romano and Sansoretti take the front walkway and approach me.
"Here's how things are gonna be," Romano announces. "You're gonna live here with your brothers. But Sansoretti is the man of this house. You'll go by his rules, and you'llhave respect for him and his wife. Understood?"
I hear each word the man says but nothing is sinking in. No one’s cared enough to do shit for me since my mother died. Yet I tell this man that I might’ve just killed someone, and he wants to reunite me with my kid brothers?
“I’m gonna live… here?” I point to the house. “With my brothers?”
“That’s what I just said,” Romano answers.“Did you hear the rest?”
“I did, sir. But I don’t understand.”
“Sorry to hear about your mother,” he says, ignoring my confusion. “She was a good woman. Your father was too.”
“Why are you doing this for me, Mr. Romano?”
“Get this young man something good to eat,” he tells Sansoretti, then he turns to me and says, “Family isn't just important to me. Family is everything.Come with me, kid.”
I’m hesitant and unsure of everything as I follow these two men and the guards into the house and walk into the warmth of the foyer, breathing in the familiar, smell of homemade Italian food.
But deep down, I’m sure that my life is about to change, and no one is coming between my brothers and me ever again.
For that, I owe Romano my life.
