The Life - Rebirth (The Life 4)

“What about you, Alonzo? Did you know my mother very well? Of course, what am I saying? I’m proof that you did.” It twisted my gut to smile at him, but I pulled it off while seething with well-hidden rage. Both Sal and Martin’s faces changed, and I deftly changed the subject. I will keep bringing it up, though, so that there’s never a chance of Sal or anyone else forgetting how I came to be here.

“So, Jr., how is school?” Now, I know one of Sal’s bones of contentions with the boy is his lack of interest in academia and the fact that he fucks off school to get high and drunk with his friends. It’s something most teens do back home, not that I ever did, but here, in this throwback to the nineteenth century, it is highly frowned upon.

He wanted to blast me, I could see, but Sal’s stern glare kept him in check. Good, I’d stirred the pot enough for one night, I think. But I needed one last dig; I only have a couple more days here after all. “What about you, Felice? Did you know my mother well? Were you friends? I’m sorry, she’s just never said anything about her life here. I guess now that we’ve all met, I can ask her when I go back.”

I put enough excitement in my voice to make it believable. I’m just a kid trying to learn anything about my mother’s youth. She turned ten shades of white and dropped her fork; Sal changed the conversation.

By the next morning, Felice was acting erratically at the breakfast table, and I saw the first sign of my handiwork. She first doused her face with her orange juice before screaming and pulling at the skin of her cheeks. Everyone looked at her like she was insane, and then she made things worse by jumping up from her seat with a wild look in her eyes as she started snatching up water glasses to douse herself with.

Sal lost his shit and ordered Ricci to take her away while her kids looked on confused. They got up to follow their parents from the room, and Martin soon followed, leaving Sal and me alone at the table. “What was that about do you think?”

“Ah, niputi, I don’t know how to tell you. I can’t…. I think maybe a guilty conscience is playing with her mind.” That, or the neurotoxin from the Gympie-Gympie plant that I added to her face cream, could be at fault.

GABRIEL

I didn’t stick around for the theatrics, and unlike the others here, I knew the noise level was about to go way up, and the crazy would kick in. I headed back into the city, just for a walk, minding my business, and just so happened to end up in front of Teresa’s place of business. I stopped outside the plate-glass window of the little boutique she owned and ran, looking down at the map as if lost.

“Scusi!” I heard the door open behind me and the tread of high heels on cement. I stepped back out of the way as she approached me with a tentative smile. “Scusi, you’re Gabe, no? Alonzo’s son, we met at the party, you remember, I’m Teresa.”

“Oh, sure, uh-huh, I think I remember you. Do you live here?” I looked around at some of the high rises that flanked the row of stores and cafes.

“No-no, this is my shop.” She indicated the store behind us, and I turned to look at it in surprise. “Oh, okay, well, I’m sorry to have interrupted you, please don’t let me disturb you. It was nice to meet you again.” I started to walk off, but she stopped me with a hand on my sleeve.

“No, it’s no bother. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m just looking around; I wanted to see some of the places my mother walked when she lived here. Say, did you know my mother? I don’t think she’s ever mentioned you before.” She dropped her hand from my sleeve and stepped back a little.

“Your mother, no, not really. We weren’t very close at all.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay.” I put on the most pitiful expression I could muster before looking down at my map again.

“Why don’t you join me for an espresso´? Over there, at the café´.” She pointed to one of the busiest ones across the street.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take you away from your work. My grandfather will show me around when he’s not so busy; I can wait.”

Yes, my grandfather, the man who gave you the money to open your store. The man who now knows the part you played that night. Her face fell a bit, but she regrouped rather quickly and plastered a smile on her face. “No, it’s no problem. I’ll tell my helper.” She opened the door and called out to the woman inside, who’d been pretending not to watch us through the window.