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Palmero Tremarchi sat behind his desk in his office above the
butcher shop. He was alone and needed it to be that way for the moment. People
had come and gone all day; all saying the same, all feeling the same. And yet no
one could express their true grief, not even him. Probably better not to,
best not to show signs of weakness. So he held back his screams.
The vacuum of silence that surrounded him was swept away by a
knock on the door. At first it didn’t register completely to him, he was so
numb. The person on the other side had to knock once more before Palmero could
utter a stifled noise that sounded like nothing comprehensible, but was enough
to be deciphered as permission to enter.
Sophia came in quietly. She looked tired and pale, and her
usually immaculate long hair was pulled back into a haphazard ponytail. She said
nothing as she walked over to Palmero, and instead of sitting on the opposite
side of the desk as was the norm, she walked over to his side. He stood, and
they held each other in a silent embrace for a few long moments, until neither
of them could stand on their feet any longer. Palmero returned to his chair and
Sophia sat on the edge of the desk.
“Benny was your Godfather, so you’ll be expected to speak
at the funeral,” Palmero croaked.
Sophia nodded, and they were silent for a time again.
“It still … hasn’t hit me,” Palmero said as he stared
into space, “you always have it in the back of your mind that things like this
will happen. But I always thought Benny … I always took for granted that
he’d be around.”
Sophia had never heard her father open up like this, so the
silence of her grief was made deeper by the shock of this. She didn’t say
anything—she couldn’t—so she stayed quiet and let him go on.
“We grew up together, came up through the ranks together. No
matter what happened, I could always count on him being around.”
Sophia looked out the window and tried to concentrate on the
clouds, the sky, the top of other buildings, anything but hearing this. But
despite herself, the tears began to form in her eyes.
“And I know,” Palmero picked up a cigar and absently
twirled it slowly between his thumb and forefinger, “I know he was there for
you through all of that stuff with … uh … the baby …”
That was it. Sophia couldn’t hold it back now. All she had to
do was blink once and the tears for Benny that she was holding back came
streaming down her face.
Palmero stopped talking to let her grieve. He didn’t have to
look at her to see that she was crying. He could see out of the corner of his
eye that she had bowed her head and that her shoulders were shaking with her
silent sobs.
She cried for a long while until she couldn’t cry anymore.
She was dry at last. She gasped with the relief. She hated crying, and she’d
been doing so damn much of it for over a year now. Palmero held out his hand, and
Sophia gladly took it, held onto it tight as the gasps slowly became deep
breaths as she calmed down.
At last when she felt like she could speak, she said softly,
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Palmero said nothing. What could he say? He had never heard
those words before. No-one had ever considered it an option. But, as it had been
with Sophia over and over again, there was a first time for everything. So
Palmero wasn’t as shocked or angered as he may have been in the past. He was
getting used to these bombshells.
“Benny and I had talked about this happening, but it never
seemed like it would. Not to one of us. But watching him die, I felt so …
mortal.”
Palmero said nothing as she took a deep breath and shuddered
away the image of Benny choking on his own blood.
“I’ve managed to escape death so many times already,
working here. I never thought I would have so many near misses in so little
time,” she said. As she wiped at her eyes and took another deep breath, Palmero nodded,
knowing that what she had been through in the short time she had been in the
Family had been extraordinary in more ways than one, “and Benny was always
worried, you know? He knew, I think. He never wanted me here.”
“None of us did,” Palmero ignored the grimace she gave him,
and stood and held her firmly by the arms, “and no, it’s not because
you’re a woman. It’s because you’re our baby. None of us want this for our
children, and Lord knows many of the boys have ignored the tradition and not
allowed their sons to be in the Family when their time came. They sent them to
university, set them up with other jobs. Even I,” he sighed as he thought of
the conflict he’d had in his own mind for years, “have had second thoughts,
over and over again, about letting Michael in. But I thought he was my only
option. Until you opened my eyes to other possibilities,” Sophia looked at up
him and saw by the genuine smile on his face that he was not being sarcastic and
that, in some way, he was truly proud of what she had done. Would he be proud of
her for quitting too? “But it’s also made me see how much I don’t want either
of you doing this. You’re my children, and I’m meant to protect you, not put
you in the line of fire.”
“But I can’t leave, can I?”
“Yes you can. And yes you should. In normal circumstances,
no, you wouldn’t be allowed to. But any circumstance with you is hardly
normal,” Palmero couldn’t help but chuckle at the truth in his comment, and
Sophia smiled and dabbed at her face once more, “and don’t think of it as
failing. You were one of the best soldiers I ever had. But …”
“But I have my own little soldier to look after.”
“Yes you do, and you need to do whatever you can to make sure
you’re always there for him.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Sophia
whispered, as she kissed her father on the cheek, then left his office for the
last time without another word.
© Cynthia M. Piromalli
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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