Chapter Nineteen
Olivia
I don’t know what I was thinking when I texted Mom that I’d visit her this afternoon. I wasn’t thinking. With my phone in my hand, and Bruno’s back turned to me, I saw an opportunity, so I took it.
Bruno tells me to get dressed. He paces around the apartment while I put on the unfamiliar clothes he bought me; a pair of black leggings and a long blue T-shirt that feel like they belong to someone else. Bruno barely looks at me. He’s distant, lost in himself. I start to regret what I did. I don’t want him to think that I want to leave him. Even after all that’s happened, I can somewhat understand the position he’s in, and the danger.
Bruno emerges from his room, slipping a worn gray T-shirt over his head. I’m standing in the middle of the living room waiting for him to tell me what to do next.
“I’m coming with you,” Bruno explains. “We’ll tell your mom that we go to school together. We’ll stay for a while, then we’re coming back here.”
I’m surprised Bruno isn’t angry at me. If he is, he’s hiding it. He acts like this is a problem to solve, a roadblock that he’s determined to get past.
Soon, we’re in his car, driving away from the city. Bruno leans over the steering wheel, his face dripping with determination. I don’t tell him that my mom will probably freak out at the sight of him. She never trusted any boy I took home, and she especially won’t trust someone who looks like him. The long drive is a silent one. Bruno doesn’t even turn on the radio. I realize that after this, it’s possible I’ll never see him again. He might even end up dead.
I reach for him, and lightly touch his arm. “Bruno.”
He flinches at my touch, then shakes his head, like he’s just realizing I’m there.
“What?” he snaps.
I bite my lip. “You said you understood what I was going through. What did you mean?”
He glances at me, then back at the road. I can see the darkness stewing in his eyes, the pain.
“My father, he’s-“ Bruno stops himself, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “He was a Mariano. A capo.”
“Capo?”
“The head of a crew.” He sees the confusion in my face, and explains further. “A crew is made up of twenty to thirty soldiers. We have several crews, and they all answer to the boss.”
I nod with understanding. “You said he was a Mariano. Is he-“
“Dead.” The word hangs in the air, lording over both of us. “Killed by the Mariano’s.”
I bring my hands to my mouth, gasping. “They killed him? Why are you loyal to them?”
Bruno turns to me, his eyes burning. “Because he was a traitor, my father. He blabbed to the feds, got a bunch of capos locked up. Some of them are still rotting in prison because of him. He got what was coming to him.”
I inch away from Bruno, suddenly scared of him. “How can you say that?”
“Because when he went down, he took my mom and me with him. When I was a kid, I had everything. A nice place to live, a nanny, a cook. I got whatever I wanted, new toys, new clothes, anything. I just had to ask. And then it all changed. I remember one night, I was listening to my parents talk in their bedroom. They were worried. Something was wrong. My mother kept saying, ‘they’ll come for us. The Mariano’s will come for us. They’ll kill us all.’ I thought men with guns were going to burst into our house. I thought I was going to die that night.”
My heart softens when I picture Bruno, a little boy, scared in his bed. “But they didn’t come for you. They came for him. That’s all.”
“Because my mother and I denounced him, which wasn’t hard for me. I started working for the Mariano’s as a teen, and haven’t looked back.”
“Where’s your mother now?”
Bruno shrugs. “She married another mobster not long after that. We don’t talk much. Sometimes she starts waxing poetic about my dad, like he didn’t deserve to get shot like an animal.”
He’s silent again, lost in his own personal pain. Finally, he reaches over and gently grabs my knee.
“We’re the unlucky fucks who have to pay for our fathers’ sins, and in this business, that’s a hefty price tag,” Bruno says. “I understand why you did it, Olivia, why you texted that to your mom. But I can’t let you go, not yet. I don’t want to end up like him.”
I study him as he drives. Does he really understand what I’m going through? Does he know the storm of confusion and pain that’s ravaging my insides? I shake my head. I can’t imagine feeling this as a child. It would be enough to destroy me.
Maybe he’s right, I should go back with him, if only to save his life. Then, we can figure a way out of this together. But I don’t think there’s any way back. Once Mom sees me, she won’t let me go, not with him.
*
When we pull up to Mom’s house, I jump out of the car and rush up the front stairs. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until that moment. Mom comes out onto the porch, and catches me with a warm hug.
“Em, I’m so happy to see you. I was so worried.” She pulls back from the hug and looks me over. “So, that was a surprise trip. How was San Francisco? Are you okay?”
I don’t know what the fuck to say. I just stand there, frozen, like a statue. Mom narrows her eyes and repeats, more seriously, “Are you okay?”
I hear the car door slamming me behind. It snaps me out of my daze.
“I’m fine, Mom,” I say to her. “I’m not alone. I’ve brought someone with me.”
Mom’s panicked eyes dart past me to Bruno standing by the car. This is it, I think. She’s going to freak out. She’s going to pull me inside and call the cops. I’ll never see Bruno again. Mom’s face is neutral as she takes Bruno in, then, surprisingly, she dons a friendly smile.
“Welcome,” she says, in a voice I don’t recognize. She gestures for Bruno to walk up the porch, which he does. Mom gives him a hearty handshake. “I’m Minnie, Olivia’s mother. What’s your name?”
Bruno clears his throat. “Phil.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Phil.”
I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone. Who is this woman?
“How do you and Olivia know each other?” Mom asks, looking between the two of us.
“School,” Bruno and I say in unison.
“Lovely, lovely,” Mom says. “Please, come inside. I’ll make us some tea.”
We follow her inside. I’m in a confused daze. Why isn’t Mom freaking out? Why hasn’t she cooked up some far fetched conspiracy about who Bruno is? In this situation, her anxiety laced delusions would be right on the money. Maybe she’s happy to see me with a guy, a big, strong one at that who could protect me at all times.
We sit at the small table by the window while Mom pours us tea. The chair, which is regular sized, can barely accommodate Bruno’s huge form. It’s absurd having him here. My captor, my lover, my enemy, having tea with my mother and me.
“Did you have a nice trip?” Mom asks, bringing over a plate of cookies.
“It was great,” I lie. “It was good to get away, to see somewhere new.”
“I’m sure it was,” Mom says. “It must’ve been good for you.”
She’s lying. She didn’t like the thought of me traveling to San Francisco. Every text she’s sent has been asking when I’d be back, or flat out begging for me to come back.
“Were you there too, Phil?” Mom asks.
Bruno doesn’t recognize his fake name at first. When he does, he straightens his back.
“No, no, I wasn’t. I picked Olivia up from the airport, and gave her a ride here.”
Mom nods over her cup of tea. “You sound like a good friend.”
“I, um, try to be,” Bruno says.
He’s uncomfortable. He keeps looking towards the door, like he’s dying to get out of here. Mom, on the other hand, is as calm as I’ve ever seen her. She’s pleasant, charming, even. As for myself, I’m a steaming pile of doubt and confusion. Should I keep up the charade? Or should I stand up and shout the truth, that I’m being held captive by this man? I’m hesitant to do that. Sure, I’ve gotten to know Bruno. I’ve seen through the layers of rock he hides behind, but I can’t forget who he is. He’s in the mafia. He’s pledged his loyalty to criminals, to killers. He’s dangerous. If backed into a corner, he just might strike.
We have a bit more small talk. I talk about seeing the Golden Gate Bridge, the twisted Lombard street, and riding a trolley, things that only exist in my imagination. If Mom only knew the truth, that Bruno took me while I was unconscious, held me against my will, that we’d had a sexual relationship, and now he plans to give me to my long lost father, she wouldn’t be so calm and composed.
After about forty-five minutes, Bruno checks his watch.
“We better be going,” he says. “Remember, Olivia. We have that thing.”
“Of course, the thing,” I say. The trade.
“Yes, I know you’re busy,” Mom says. It’s odd. She never lets me leave that easily. “Thanks for coming by, baby. And Phil, so nice to meet you. Don’t be a stranger.”
Bruno stands from his chair, clearly in a rush. “I won’t, I won’t. Nice to meet you too.”
So this is how it will be, I think. I’ve tasted freedom, just a tiny sip of it. Now, I’m going back, where things will go from bad to worse.
Mom walks us to the door. She wishes Bruno goodbye, then grabs my hand, looking directly into my eyes.
The signal, I remember, with a rush of clarity.
Bruno is at the bottom of the porch stairs, waiting for me impatiently. Mom stares into my eyes imploringly. I’m not sure what to do at first. If I squeeze her hand, I could be sending Bruno to his death. Or, he could take both of us to give to Vince. I look into her eyes, the same eyes I see every time I look in the mirror. She’s my mother. She’ll help me. She’ll know what to do. I squeeze her hand.
One, two, three.
Mom doesn’t betray the panic on her face, but I know it’s there. She drops my hand.
“Could you two hold on just a sec?” she asks. “There’s something I need to show you.”
“Sure, Mom,” I say.
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Bruno says, looking towards the car.
Mom’s not gone for long. When she returns to the front door, she’s holding a snub nose .38 and a badass look on her face. She points the gun at Bruno. His entire body tenses. He looks desperately at me.
“Olivia,” she barks. “Get inside.”
The whole situation is surreal. My legs move slowly, like I’m in a dream. I run back into the house, cowering behind my gun wielding mother.
“You,” Mom growls at Bruno. “Get the fuck away from this house. And tell your friends that if they want to come find me, I eagerly await their visit.”
Mom cocks the gun. The noise thuds deep into my chest.
Bruno raises his arms in the air. His face is red. Veins protrude from the sides of his neck. “Olivia,” he says, stepping forward.
“Get back,” Mom warns. “I swear to God, I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
My heart pounds in my chest as I watch Bruno. What’s he going to do? Is he going to rush her? Is Mom really going to shoot him? Bruno lowers his arms, then looks right at me.
“Goodbye, Olivia.”
I feel like I’m going to pass out. I stumble back on my feet, but catch myself before falling.
“I’m sorry, Bruno,” I yell from the door. But he’s already walking away.