Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
About thirty minutes later, the door opens. Mom is wearing a hoodie two sizes too big—given to her by Elio or somebody else—making her look small and vulnerable. Her hair is tied up. She looks young and lost. Rushing across the room, she falls into my arms. I hug her fiercely, looking over her shoulder and seeing Elio in the doorway. Thank you, I mouth.
He nods, meeting my eyes with heavy emotion. “I’m going to explain to Mom,” he says, shutting the door.
My mom sobs fiercely as we cling to each other. She cries for a long time, then takes my shoulders and pushes herself back so she can look into my eyes. “I’ve got to tell you now. Perhaps I should’ve told you years ago, but sit down, Scarlet.”
I can’t imagine her telling me anything that will make this any less of a relief. She’s here. She’s safe. That’s all that matters. I can’t ignore the shiver of nerves deep inside when I sit down, and she sits beside me, taking my hand and massaging it slowly. I can feel how cold and clammy she is. She still looks out of it. I think that’s one reason she’s being so forward.
Her eyes are saucers. She’s obviously still high, but I can tell she needs to say this now. “Philip was…”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I mutter. “Whatever you want to say, it’s okay.”
She looks at the floor, tears glistening in her eyes. I smooth my free hand up her arm, rubbing her shoulder gently. “It’s not okay. I’ve been lying to you.”
“Lying?” I say. “About what?”
“About your father,” she replies. “I just have to say it. Otherwise, I’ll do what I’ve spent so many years doing—being a coward.”
“Whatever it is, I can take it,” I say, thinking of Elio, of how much more manageable life seems when I have him backing me up.
She lets out a long breath. “Philip wasn’t your father.”
I just stare at her for what feels like minutes, trying to make sense of this. It’s like she’s spoken a different language. Then my thoughts give me a slideshow of all those moments—the sour looks, the lack of love, the seeming indifference—and suddenly, it makes sense.
“I had a boyfriend. He passed away, unfortunately. When you were two, I found Philip. I wanted you to have a father. I wanted you to be like the other children. So we agreed to tell you that you were his. By the time I realized what a mistake it was, you were too old. Or maybe that’s just an excuse for me being a complete coward.”
“That’s why he never seemed to care about me,” I whisper.
Mom squeezes my hand so tightly it hurts, but I don’t have the heart to tell her. “I think he tried his best in the beginning. Then those silly get-rich-quick schemes started. It made him bitter. It brought out all his worst qualities and mine. Let’s be honest.” She laughs shakily, sounding distant. “I have to tell you now, before it, before you know what wears off—the shit I put in my body.”
Hearing Mom curse is so strange.
“Now he’s gone,” Mom whispers, shuddering all over. “He wasn’t a good man. Oh, let’s be honest. He was terrible in many ways, but he didn’t deserve to be killed.”
When she starts crying again, I pull her into a hug and stroke my hand through her hair, muttering soothing words. I hope they’re soothing, at least. I tell her it’s okay. I tell her I still love her. I say it repeatedly, holding her tightly, hoping she can feel the love burning through me.
Philip wasn’t my dad. My dad died before I can even remember. It all makes sense. He never wanted me because I was never his. I wonder if I should hate Mom, but I can’t. She’s the only family I have left… until I make one of my own.
CHAPTER 18
Elio
“You seem to have used many Family men for this pet project,” Mom says, then sips her red wine. She’s not usually much of a drinker.
We’re sitting on the balcony; the grill fire is lit. Luca sits to the side, almost like he’s getting ready to intervene if we start arguing. I lean forward, looking closely at Mom. “What did Dad say about it?”
She stares down at her glass of wine. I remember what Scarlet said about Mom’s reaction when she sang for him. Dad teared up, and Mom seemed shocked. She asked if he could hear and understand, but he’s been giving instructions for months.
“I haven’t spoken to him about it yet,” she says.
“Then, with all due respect, Mom, as acting don, I have every right to do what I did.”
Mom huffs and takes another sip of wine. Luca looks at me with his eyebrow raised, silently asking me why I’m speaking to her with this tone. I shake my head. I need to calm the hell down, but the idea of Mom lying about this is just sick.