The Brightest Star

Chapter 9

An annoying buzz comes from my bedside table and I roll over with a groan. I was in the middle of a beautiful midday nap after laying out in the sun this morning. I blindly feel around until my hand lands on my ringing cellphone. My brows furrow at the caller ID before I pick up.

"Hi Mom," I groggily answer.

"Ciao tesoro," she replies.
(Hello sweetheart)

"I'm sorry I haven't called," I sigh, rolling onto my back, "everything has been chaotic."

"Non preoccuparti," she replies, "Volevo solo farti sapere che domani avremo il funerale."
(Don't worry about it. I just wanted to let you know that we're having the funeral tomorrow morning)

"Do you need anything?" I ask, "money or anything?"

"No, no," she replies, "è stato tutto pagato."
(It's all been paid for)

I run my fingers through my hair and close my eyes. That must be what Dominic meant when he said he'd take care of everything.

"Alright," I sigh, "I'll leave later today."

"Ho un velo funebre per te," she says softly.
(I have a funeral veil for you)

"Grazie," I reply, adding, "how's Dad?"

"Sai come può essere," she sighs.
(You know how he can be)

"Yeah, yeah I know," I nod.

"Ci vediamo presto," she says.
(I'll see you soon)

"Addio," I reply before hanging up.
(Bye)

I run my hand down my face and breathe deeply. It's still so hard to believe that Anthony is actually dead; that this time tomorrow I'll be at his funeral. I haven't been to a funeral since I was a little kid when my grandmother died. Tony and I were still young and I remember goofing off in the pews.

Back then, much like now, my mom refused to speak English. She said that it was too hard to grieve and think at the same time; that she was entitled to speak in her mother tongue during a time of mourning. I can't say I fault her either; she didn't learn English until she was nearly twenty.

I climb out of bed and head right to the bathroom. I turn on the shower before stripping. As steam begins to fill the tiled room, I step into the shower. There's little thought or effort as I wash myself; muscle memory taking over.

I wrap a fluffy towel around myself before using another to dry my hair. I go over to the vanity and look over the different products in front of me. Dominic had the bathroom stocked with luxury beauty products, from shampoo to hair oils to face cream. I put some oil in my hair before brushing it out. I do a little skincare routine and brush my teeth.

I go into the large walk-in closet and begin to leaf through each item. I pull a conservative black dress from a rack and put it aside for the funeral. I slip into a pair of joggers and a simple tee before putting on some shoes.

I take a deep breath and nod to myself before leaving my room. I head towards Dominic's office. I can feel the eyes of the men on me as I walk through the halls. I can't quite figure out why they're all staring at me, they've been doing it since I arrived, but I try to ignore it.

I rap my knuckles against the door before opening it a crack. I stick my head in and smile softly, "Dom, can I speak with you?"

He stands from behind his desk and waves me inside. There's paperwork spread across his desk and he drops his pen down. His tie is loosened and the top button of his shirt is undone. I walk in and close the door behind me.