"My vengeance needs blood."
- Marquis De Saded
The hours had swept by swiftly, and now here we were, on the eve of the most magical day of the year. Yet for Frankie and Noah, the magic had long since faded, replaced by the painful memories that this day held. I knew I couldn't let them face this alone. Despite Frankie's tough exterior, I could sense the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. And so, I chose to be with them on this day, providing whatever comfort and support I could.
"Papà," Sawyer greeted me as I pulled into the driveway.
"Evening, son," I greeted him with a pat on his sturdy shoulder. "Everything going alright?"
Exhaling a prolonged, weighed sigh, Sawyer failed miserably in concealing his obvious concern. "I'm so worried about her."
"I know you are, and so am I. That's why I'm here," I replied, hoping to offer him some reassurance.
As we made our way into the house together, I was surprised to spot Hector already waiting there for us.
"Hector! My boy, you're already here," I exclaimed, not expecting his presence.
His face lit up with a genuine smile at my acknowledgement. "Papà, it's truly good to see you," he responded, moving closer to embrace me.
I immediately reciprocated the embrace, engulfing him in a warm hug.
"Son, the feeling is mutual. It is good to have you here, I acknowledged, letting go of him and eyeing the house as a pressing question formed in my mind. "But where are the rest of them?"
"They're upstairs. Noah's not feeling well today. I tried to help in whatever way I could, but it's tough to know what to do when you have no clue about what's wrong," he said, the creases on his forehead deepening in a show of concern. "I can't help but wonder, though. Why does Christmas feel so different here this time around? What happened?"
The question hung heavily in the air as I moved towards the couch and slumped into it, a palpable worry engulfing me. Hector's question had hit the nail right on the head, but it wasn't my story to tell. However, I admired his sincerity and willingness to help.
I began to speak, carefully picking my words, "Son, I understand that you're just trying to help, and I am immensely grateful for everything you've done for her, but there are some tales that aren't mine to unfold."
Hector took a moment to take it all in before responding, his understanding clear as he gave a single, firm nod. "I understand," he simply said.
From upstairs, the ethereal tones of a violin slowly began to seep into the quiet of the room below. Both of us looked towards the source of the music, momentarily transported by its serene beauty.
There was something unique about Frankie's skill with the violin. Her performance always carried a kind of haunting allure, which was no less captivating even in this moment. The particular melody she chose today held an emotional significance. It was the only composition that could calm Noah during times like these.
"It's truly beautiful," Hector finally murmured, captivated by the melancholic tunes, evidently sharing the same sentiments as me.
However, the peaceful moment was soon interrupted. The ringtone of my phone broke through the serenity, snapping us back into reality.
"Ah, Salvatore," I said, instantly recognizing the voice on the other side.
"Conor, mio caro amico, (my dear friend)" Salvatore greeted me back. "I'm just calling to wish you a Merry Christmas."
"I sincerely appreciate that, my friend, that's mighty thoughtful of you," I returned, touched by his thoughtfulness, "A Merry Christmas to you as well."
There was a pause and I could practically see him tilting his head, as he usually does when something is puzzling him. "What's that music that's playing in your background?" Big Solly finally asked, curiosity underlined with a sudden urgency.
"Well," I began, pride coursing through my words. "You are listening to our own virtuoso, Frankie. She's not just the city's best attorney, she also commands the violin like none other."
"Aah..." he acknowledged my statement. "That melody. It's familiar." His voice drifted off mysteriously and without a further word, he ended the call, leaving me bewildered by his abrupt behaviour.
The dense atmosphere within the house hung heavy with a plethora of old Christmas memories, weighing down upon my already weary spirit like a heavy blanket.
Gently, I cradled dad's old violin. As I positioned it under my chin and pulled the bow across the strings, the room began to reverberate with melancholic melodies that hung in the cool air, resonating powerfully around the quiet room, their haunting melodies filling every corner. I carried on with the fervor and abandon, until my fingers were raw and stinging and my vision was blurred by tears that flowed, unrestricted, just stopping when I noticed Noah finally surrender to sleep.
Slowly and silently, I placed the violin back in its case and made my way out. I was gripped by an irresistible urge to escape. Strangled by my own sorrow, choked by my own tears, I quickly made my way out of the house, with Hector, Sawyer and papà closely trailing behind.
I turned back and cried out in desperation, "No!" The cry tumbled out of my lips and rang in the cold, biting winter air. I shouted towards them, begging through choked sobs, "Please..."
The conflict etched on their faces, balancing the love and concern for me with the understanding that I needed to be alone.
Escaping into the snowy white expanse of a Christmas Eve that no longer seemed magical. The festive street decorations only intensified the burn in my eyes and the weight in my heart.
As I drifted aimlessly through the cold streets, my gaze stumbled upon a sight all too familiar. Parked discreetly on a side street, barely a block away from my house, was Jamie's pick-up truck. A spark of hope flickered inside me, despite the bitterness of reality trying to douse it.
Summoning up the last ounces of my strength, I sprinted towards the pickup, my heart thudding with a rhythm that seemed to match my haste. Yet before I could reach it, Jay sprang from the vehicle, his face etched with an unbearable pain, his eyes were identical to mine - red and swollen from unrestrained tears.
As we made our way towards each other, we stood suspended in a strange silent pause. Our sorrow met in the middle, colliding with such a force that I staggered under its weight. The agony of loss washed over us in punishing waves, dragging us both down into the painful whirlwind of melancholy, despair and the bitter sweetness of childhood memories we had both buried deep within us.
Stretching his arms out towards me in an inviting embrace, Jay welcomed me. An invitation I was desperately craving.
As if drawn by some primal force, I crashed into him, burying myself deep within his arms. We clung onto each other fiercely, each letting our tears do all the talking that needed to be done; speaking volumes without uttering a single word.
"Why did he have to go..." I managed to stammer through my sobs. My heart ached for the loss, threatening to tear my being apart. "I miss him so damn much..."
"I know...me too," he muttered hoarsely, tears chocking his voice, "I'm sorry, kid...I'm so incredibly sorry."
Summoning all my willpower, I pulled away from his chest, looking directly into his eyes, shimmering with tears. Wordlessly, I shook my head, words failing me.
He furiously wiped his tears, holding my face delicately between his strong hands. "I should have tried harder to find you and Noah... It's all on me. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you two..." Regret was raw and pained in his confession.
"No! Stop blaming yourself, Jay! You did everything you could.. it's not your fault.." my voice trailed off as a fresh onslaught of tears flowed down my face.
Bending down to my level, Jay pressed a prolonged kiss onto my forehead. I heard him inhale sharply, fighting off the upcoming bout of tears. "I love you, kid."
With that, he let me go. Turning on his heels, he walked back to the truck, leaving as quickly as he had come.
Ever since I heard that familiar melody echoing through the phone, my mind had been plunged into a chaotic whirlwind. Every note it produced seemed to fill my consciousness with uncertainty, blurring the edges of what I knew to be true. The odd feeling was maddening; I simply could not understand how a simple musical composition could bring my sense of reality crashing down around me in shards.
The haunting tune was not a stranger to my ears, rather it was deeply etched into the recesses of my memory. It wasn't something that had floated by me unnoticed; on the contrary, it was deeply embedded in the essence of who I was. I'd listened to my own father play it over and over again, passing it down to the skilled hands of my younger brother, Gino. The notes weren't from a famous piece, they were original; stitched together by my own father.
I felt like I was losing it, and there wasn't anyone who could potentially clarify the whirlwind of questions engulfing my mind, except for my father.
Knocking on the sturdy oak door of my father's office, I gave him a moment's notice before entering to find him lost in his thoughts, enveloped in an air of darkness.
"Ho bisogno di parlare con te, (I need to talk to you)" I began, sidestepping his gloom as I cautiously perched on the leather chair situated beside him.
His silence was nothing new, but it didn't detract from its palpability as it squeezed my anticipation, pulling the words from me before I'd readied them. "Frank Monroe," I stated more than asked. "Chi è lei? (Who is she?"
My father, as stoic and reserved as he usually was, seemed taken aback, his concern fracturing for a moment to reveal something similar to shock. As soon as it emerged, it quickly submerged again, buried under his usual, commanding demeanour.
Slinking further into the luxurious leather, and he steadfastly avoided my gaze, replacing his brief look of surprise with silence - a wall, unbreachable.
I couldn't stomach his silent rebuff; my impatience clawed at me from the inside. "Rispondimi, padre! Chi è lei! (Answer me, father! Who is she!)" I exclaimed, letting the bottled-up anticipation reach its pinnacle, disrupting the silence with the rage boiling inside me.
He looked worn out and somehow older. In a voice burdened with regret and guilt, he responded with, "Tuo nipote, (your niece)" rendering the room hauntingly silent.
The revelation momentarily stopped the world, suspending time itself. My attempt to grasp the words felt like navigating through a haze.
My niece? My brother, Gino's child?
Battling the confusion, I asked again, "E questo lo sapevi? Da quando? (And you knew this? Since when?)" My voice was barely above a whisper now, a shaking mirage of the anger that had reigned just moments ago.
"Tre anni, (three years)" his reply came as soft as his previous revelation, still unable to meet my gaze.
Questions spiralled in my mind like a whirlwind. "Perché... perché me lo hai nascosto? Da mamma? (Why... Why did you keep it from me? From mom?)" I asked him, the hurt lacing my words. "Ho passato una vita a pensare che Gino... era solo, non aveva nessuno! È morto senza famiglia, o almeno così credevamo! E tu, ci hai tenuto nascosta sua figlia? (I've spent a lifetime thinking that Gino... he was alone, had no one! He died without any family, or so we believed! And you, you kept his daughter hidden from us?)"
The intensity of my emotions seemed to tip his usually impeccable calm, a rare burst of anger evident in his tight features. "Non capirai! (You won't understand!)" he roared back, shocking me.
"Fammi capire, padre! (Make me understand, father!)" I pleaded, unashamed of the tears streaking down my face.
He looked at me, the depths of his own turmoil reflected in his sorrowful gaze. "Figliolo, (son)" he began, a world of remorse living in that single word. "È stato un atto di protezione, non avevo altra scelta. Era in pericolo e dovevo tenere lei e i suoi fratelli al sicuro. Non avevo alcuna possibilità di lasciare che un potenziale rischio arrivasse fino a loro. Non era una posizione in cui desideravo trovarmi, ma dovevo accettare. (It was an act of protection, I had no other choice. She was in danger, and I had to keep her and her brothers safe. There was no chance for me to let any potential risk find its way to them. It wasn't a position I desired to be in, but it was one I had to accept)"
His words hung heavy in the air, forcing me to accept an almost unbearable truth. "Ma perché non me lo hai detto almeno? Avrei potuto aiutarti. Avrei potuto sostenere con tutto il mio peso la tua missione, per proteggerli e proteggerli. Avrebbe potuto essere un fardello condiviso da noi, non tuo da sostenere. (But why didn't you at least tell me? I could have helped you. I could have thrown my weight behind your mission, to protect and shield them. It could have been our shared burden, not yours to shoulder alone)"
He met my gaze, his sorrow reflected back in his dark, sunken eyes. "Credimi, figliolo, (believe me, son)" he began with a heavy heart. "Non passava giorno senza il bisogno di farti conoscere. Ma questa, questa era una chiamata che richiedeva un livello di decisione ben oltre i miei desideri o desideri. Si trattava di ciò che era assolutamente cruciale: la loro sicurezza. Quell'obiettivo sovrastava ogni altra cosa, anche se ciò significava tenerlo segreto a te e a tua madre. Vorrei che tu potessi perdonarmi, spero che un giorno le cicatrici non saranno così crude. (there was not a day that passed without the urge to let you in on it. But this, this was a call that required a level of decision-making far beyond my wishes or wants. It came down to what was absolutely crucial: their safety. That objective towered over everything else, even if it meant keeping it a secret from you and your mother. I wish you can forgive me, hopefully one day when the scars aren't as raw)"
Could I? That was a question I wasn't prepared to answer, not when the sting of betrayal was still so fresh. But at the moment, it wasn't significant. What truly mattered was being with my nephews and niece.