She pressed the heel of her palm to her temple for a second before she smoothed her hair back. Then she bent over and patted Domenico’s pockets.
“What the hell are you doing now? You’re driving me crazy. Which part ofthey’re gonna be here any minutedid you not understand?”
“Shut up.” She got up, keys dangling from her fist, and approached the cage.
I did shut up. What was going on here?
She touched the deadbolt and flashed the set of keys at me. “Which one opens the lock and which undo the shackles?”
CHAPTER 6
Ravenna
I’d never been one to settle with a crowd. Neither my looks nor my brains allowed it. I wouldn’t lie and say I preferred my solitude; in Filicudi I felt as exiled as the residents of the institution. But in a way, it had its perks.
One, I lived by the beach, and while everyone was enchanted by the summer here, winter was what fascinated me. I was a winter girl, coming from Illinois and all, but even I hated cruel February. In Italy, it was a different story. I had colder summer days in Highland Park and Chicago than some winter nights in here.
Two, I no longer had to free killers. I was studying them. Did I mention Filicudi Institution was more of a retirement home for Mafia exiles? The worst of the worst that had been banished by their own families because they had committed crimes more heinous that even the Mob could stomach. Those and the very few that didn’t do anything wrong except having the wrong last name or were actually sick and needed medical help. Like Mom.
Beside the safety of my family, that was the biggest perk the Lanza’s overture—well, order—had to offer; I got to see my mom daily.
At first, it wasn’t easy. She wouldn’t let me anywhere near her, and when I insisted, her protesting episodes ranged from silent to violent. She’d even threatened she’d ask for a transfer. My stay in Filicudi felt like the worst punishment for my sins. For the first couple of months, I cried myself to sleep, the desperate voices of guilt and shame wrapping tight around my head and soul, telling me to run and end everything. As a psychiatrist, I shouldn’t let destructive, self-harm thoughts control me, but even us had moments of weakness when the world got too dark to see anything but despair.
Living like this, drowned in guilt and blame, hated by the people who should love you the most, alone, condemned to be a puppet in the hands of monsters, wasn’t living at all, so why should I get out of bed to live another one of those days? Some people didn’t deserve to live, and when you were a useless fuck that killed your brother, crippled your father, drove your mom mental and failed to help her gain her sanity back, you were certainly one of those people.
Despite my prayers that I’d get hit by a car or shanked by a patient—because ending things myself would have been too easy, and I needed the punishment and the pain—I continued to wake up, breathe and go to work where my own mother spat in my face and cursed me to hell and beyond.
I was grateful that I did because with time, things slowly got better. One thing led to another, and we enjoyed a few strolls, shared some meals…and cries. Her therapist assured me that my presence the past year had helped her make progress more than all the time she’d spent in the institution before my arrival. I believed, soon enough, she’d be out of Filicudi, and hopefully, she’d go back to living with Papa.
I couldn’t believe it’d been a year already since I’d left him. I hated that I had to. I was all the family he had left. But the Lanzas’ capo had arranged for home care for him. At least, I didn’t have to worry about who would take care of him when I was gone.
Thankfully, in a few days, I’d see him again. I was finally allowed a few weeks of leave, and the Lanzas had booked us a nice stay in their Taormina resort. I arrived first to arrange for everything he’d need—accessible accommodation, flying assistance, a suitable rental car—for the overachiever itinerary I’d made. He hadn’t been to Italy in so many years, and I’d planned to show him the whole country in those couple of weeks.
And perhaps our last stop would be Filicudi where he’d get to see Mom, if she’d allow it.
I knew better than to get my hopes up, but the potential alone made me happy, and happiness was something I hadn’t felt for a very long time I almost forgot what it meant. It was moments like these, moments of hope and love and reunion that made life worth living. If I succeeded at bringing my family together, my life wouldn’t be a complete failure.
Zipping my jacket, I entered my car and turned on the GPS. I hadn’t explored Taormina or any part of Sicily before. I thought it’d be a good idea to watch the sunrise in town rather from the beach for a change. They said they had an indoors farmers market on via Cappuccini under the church, too. The sky was barely cracking with the grayish blue of dawn. If I drove now, I’d make it to town in time for a nice walk to see the sunrise and buy some of the best lemons in the world.
Light orange and blue had started to paint the sky. The winding road was practically empty, so I hit the gas pedal hard, as if I was racing the sunrise. I narrowed my gaze at the peeking sun. “Who would arrive first? Me or you?”
It might be a little crazy to talk to objects, but apart from my patients and staff, I didn’t have anyone to talk to. With my Dad far away now, I only called him once a day, and it was always brief. We’d run out of comfortable conversational topics long ago. I never really had any friends, and I wouldn’t even get started on boyfriends.
The only time I’d come close to experience something remotely perceived as romantic from a man was an inappropriate encounter with my English teacher back at Bellomo. He was pretty much the only man, other than my father, who had ever told me I was beautiful. He had sick ulterior motives, of course, for sixteen-year-old me, at least, but years later, they didn’t turn out to be that bad. I’d seen way worse.
Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if I’d allowed Mr. Isaac and myself to get carried away in that forbidden fantasy. I wouldn’t have been the first girl to crush on her teacher or the first to lose her virginity to one.
Unhealthy and inappropriate and taboo? I knew that. But that was the kind of thoughts you got when boys wouldn’t come near you because you were too smart for them or plain called you ugly or never reciprocated your feelings because they were crushing hard on tall, Russian blondes and you became a twenty-something-year-old virgin that had yet to even have a proper kiss.
It sucked balls.
And if you were wondering why I didn’t indulge in any sexual escapades in college, you hadn’t been following my useless life journey. For starters, the Mob killed my brother, and I had no time for anything but studying to fulfill the purpose they had for me and taking care of my paralyzed father. Boys and friends were luxuries I couldn’t afford. Getting anyone close was dangerous. I couldn’t watch someone else I loved get hurt.
There was another reason, though. A secret I’d never told anyone. A silly infatuation I’d hidden for so long, even from the boy himself. He’d have never noticed me anyway. He was the hottest boy in class, in the whole school. The most powerful, too. Girls swarmed around him like bees. He must have known how attractive he was, but he played it off, nonchalant. He seemed to have eyes for one girl only, and that girl wasn’t—would have never been—me.
Unfortunate for me, that infatuation grew into something unwholesome that I dragged along with me. A crutch I’d laid on my fears. A safety net that stopped me from taking that next step into anything that remotely resembled affection.
I sighed, wondering where Mr. Isaac was now.Probably in jail for statutory rape.