Chapter 8 Life In Vegas
SANCIA
A Week Later, VEGAS.
Silence was the only thing I heard as I made my way downstairs from my room and approached the dinner table. I just came back from school. I had a late evening class. I'd gone to freshen up before dinner time.
Talking to my cousin Tina, who was suffering from the flu before she dozed off, was what distracted me. And now, I'm late, I know that, and the silent warning from my Zia Francesca's eyes told me to be careful with her grumpy-face of a husband.
“Good evening, Uncle, Auntie,” I greeted as I pulled out the chair as quietly as I could and sat down. He grunts as he shoves more food into his mouth.
“How’s Christina?” my Aunt asked.
“Better, she went back to sleep before I came downstairs,” I replied.
“I'm glad she's at least resting,” she said, pouring me a glass of Pinot Grigio. I nodded and mouthed my thanks as I served myself with the delicious lasagna she had made.
Isabella passed me the salad bowl with a smile of her own. I scoop the caprese salad made with mozzarella, tomatoes, basil, olive oil, and balsamic glaze on the side of my plate.
My aunt is a great cook, but the lack of freedom to speak or carry on a normal conversation made it impossible to savor her food.
Dinner time was the only time we could all sit together as a family, as Isabella, Tina, and I were mostly at college during the day.
There was no intimate conversation or joyful glances, only glares when someone scraped his plate or chewed too loudly. I had been told that silence was golden, to eat with grace, not talk during dinner, breakfast, or lunch, and never come late to the table.
This is one of the first rules my uncle told me to adhere to on my very first day here.
Eleven months, that's how long I've been living here, and in these months, I have come to learn that my uncle is a big bully who nitpicks and finds fault with every single thing anyone under his roof does.
The only reason I show him any respect is because of my aunt and because I'm living in his house.
And yet, despite the suffocating atmosphere here, it was better than where I left; at least here, I could escape to college and get lost in the crowds of students.
We even sneaked out once, Tina and I, without our parents' or our bodyguards' knowledge, to a frat party-my first ever-where I had so much fun, but we had to leave quickly before the soldiers or guards found out we were gone.
Turns out we got busted by the guards. Since we were both college students, we couldn't be grounded, but my aunt had seized all our gadgets for a week.
That was months ago.
My Aunt and her family have lived in Las Vegas for more than 20 years. And that's where we all go to college. She has four children: Adamo, the oldest; Christina; Sera; and Sofia.
I'll always be grateful to Zia Francesca, who convinced our father to let me join my sister Isabella and come study for my degree here.
Isabella had been studying here for two years now. Papa had agreed because Isabella’s fiancé, Orazio, had died. My stomach cramps as it always does when I think of the past.
Isabella had loved Orazio with all her heart and had looked forward to spending her life with him.
He was not a good person and always treated Isabella badly.
But Isabella had forgotten all that, as though death had wiped away the fact that he was an asshole.
In a way, Isabella had been fortunate that they weren't married; otherwise, she would have become a young widow and wouldn't have been able to study music.
Isabella is now twenty-one, almost twenty-two if we're to be precise; after this session, she will be a final-year music student.
I'm turning nineteen next month and going to be a second-year college student majoring in accounting.
Back to my aunt and uncle's family tradition, I still haven't gotten used to the silence.
It's like a funeral home.
I could say that silence is better than the sound of gunfire.
Paolo, my father's little minion, thinks he's some kind of king here in the US.
Don't mistake my use of the word little to think the man was of any small stature. No, Paolo was built like a tank, tall and broad with a balding head and beady dark eyes.
I always wonder how my Zia got saddled with him and how Christina doesn't look anything like him.
But I already know the answer to these questions: Paolo was chosen for my Aunt, just like Papa chose Antonio for me. At least Antonio is good-looking, and I love him. There isn’t one good quality about Paolo that I could think of.
I scrape my fork across the plate, making a screeching sound until both my aunt and her husband glance up at me. I smile innocently, sending Isabella a help-me look.
Saint Isabella, my beloved sister, only gave me a warning glance in return and then went back to eating.
Despite the absurdity of his rules, I kept quiet as always and reminded myself why I was here.
“Don called earlier when I was in the office; he wants me to pick them up from the airport,” my uncle's voice whipped out of nowhere, startling me.
My heart hammered in my chest with this news, and my eyes connected with my older sister Isabella, who looked as frightened as I.
Whenever he calls, it's either about us or his business.
“Papa is coming to America?” I asked with a mix of hope and dread.
“Is he okay? Why is he suddenly coming here? Did something happen?” my Zia asked.
My uncle sends her a warning glare.
“I will go with the kids to the airport tomorrow morning,” my uncle replied, ignoring my Aunt's questions.
“Paolo, what is going on? What happened?” my Aunt asked anxiously.
“Nobody questioned Don Francesca. You know better than to ask stupid questions. Have the maids go to the house and have it ready; I have a feeling they're going to stay here a while,” my uncle's voice rang with a little warning.
“Is our mother also coming?” Isabella asked softly.
“Yes, the Consigliere and his family are also coming,” Paolo replied curtly.
Uncle Romero and his family? Suddenly, I couldn't stomach another bite of the lasagna.
If our father and mother are coming here to the States, I'm sure there must be a reason.
Something important that couldn't wait.
And I have a horrible feeling that it could be about either of us, his two daughters.
Two Days Later.
“It's so great to see you, Lorena. The last time we saw each other was a year ago, wasn't it?”
“You're right. I can't believe it's only been a year, and look how the twins have grown so tall,” Aunt Lorena replies.
“How far along are you now? Aren't you in your second trimester?” Aunt Francesca rambled.
“That's what everyone is saying; I will admit she feels heavier,” Aunt Lorena replies, rubbing at the big, rounded belly.
“It’s a girl?” Aunt Francesca asked, excitedly. “That’s so wonderful, Lorena, I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you, Francesca, I’m so excited, I’m finally having my little girl.”
“You should be. Children are a blessing, and girls will be your best friends, unlike boys chasing girls and playing with guns.”
I almost snicker, playing with guns? Is that what we’re calling it now?
“At least until they get married…” she adds thoughtfully. Both women suddenly glance at the door where Isabella was just coming back from taking a tray of freshly baked bread to the dining room.
“Poor Isabella, why does she have such rotten luck? She's such a good girl, very well mannered; unfortunately, the first one died, and now she has to ma…,”
She must have realized that I was still in the kitchen because she glanced at me and shared another secretive look with Aunt Francesca.
I knew I was right when Paolo announced that Papa was suddenly coming to the US.
And now both my Aunties have proved that Papa's arrival had something to do with Isabella.
They have been gossiping and acting suspiciously since this morning.