I WAS DETERMINED to make that fucker cry.
The moon was up, in all her glory, as I walked through the narrow alleys with heavy steps. My black trench coat was drenched in rainwater, and thunder was playing a soft melody. The waterdrops on my leather gloves reflected the lightning ever so often, making me wonder whether or not leather was the best decision, as it was rather hard to get the blood out of it.
First degree murder—malicious intent. I was a lawyer, not an amateur. I knew how this things worked. 'Whoever causes the death of a human being is punishable by no less than 21 years in prison' I recalled. That, if they get caught. Also murder wasn't an easy felony, that can be forgiven after 30 years if the culprit isn't found. And if you manage to run, but are found after say, 3 years, that's still going to be 21 years, plus the sentence for fleeing to elude roughly around 5 years. But I wanted to make him suffer. I wanted to—
But she would never talk to you again if you did it. She would hate you. She would be disgusted, and you'd only cause her pain.
I cursed, as I realized it was true. The only realistic option I had was to legally fight this.
Entering a small café, illuminated by dim orange lights, I was shook out of my murderous thoughts as my eyes laid upon a small boy, with a pacifier in his mouth, holding a beaten stuffed rabbit. His hair was ruffled and his eyes were puffy, but the glimpse of hope shone nevertheless as he feverishly scanned the street from the booth he was occupying. I approached the counter, slowly taking my gloves off, my eyes never leaving the little boy.
''He's been here for weeks'' an old lady behind the counter said, lazily polishing some glasses.
''Isn't he, well, yours?'' I asked in a low voice, curiously eyeing her. She let out a laugh, with a bitter undertone, almost as though for herself, and took a moment before speaking again.
''Mine? I'm flattered you think I'm that young'' she replied. ''What can I get you'' she asked, abruptly changing the subject.
''A lemon tea, please'' I slowly said, my eyes never leaving hers. ''Whose kid is he then?'' I pressed.
''Mind your business'' she warned, slamming my cup on the counter, a few drops spilling on the dark wood. That only made me grow more interested. An idea popped up in my mind.
''If you're not going to tell me,'' I trailed off, waiting for her to look up, ''I'll have to ask him myself'' I finished, taking a sip of the burning liquid.
''Don't you dare'' she snarled. I looked at her expectantly, and after solid 20 seconds of death staring at each other, she gave in. ''His parents moved to Sicily'' she carefully whispered. ''Both young, too young to raise a child'' she shook her head, in a disapproving manner.
''So they just dropped him here?'' I asked incredulously, as she solemnly nodded. I felt anger started to build up in me, and I took another sip, in an attempt to prevent myself from saying something. ''Have you been taking care of him ever since?'' I asked, looking over at his booth, seeing him struggling to keep his eyes open.
''We did. But nobody wants to do anything to help. The police doesn't care, the mayoralty even less. We couldn't throw him out'' she shrugged.
I knew the legal procedure. No, I warned myself.
"What's his name?" I wondered, carefully sipping my tea. She let her gaze rest upon him, and her eyes softened.
"Elio" she softly said, causing him to turn to us, a curious expression on his face.
''Does he go to kindergarten?'' I wanted to know. She nodded again, furrowing her brows. A silent question, none of us daring to speak.
I quickly drank my tea, throwing a 10 euro bill on the counter and rushed out of the café, before I could make any rash decisions I might later on regret. I've lost my mind entirely, I thought, wondering how I could even consider the idea of taking him in.
''A three year old'' I muttered to myself, while crossing the street, in the direction of the hospital. ''What should I do with a three year old, who needs his parents?'' I continued my furious ramble. ''My lifestyle is too different from one of a parent's. I'm 24 for fucks sake, I can't raise a child.'' I angrily muttered. ''I can barely take care of Caesar'' I said, and abruptly stopped in the middle of a sidewalk, quickly checking if anyone was around to hear me talking to myself. ''I'm convinced I turned crazy.''
______________
Half an hour later I was back at the café, however this time with my black Range Rover, as the storm nothing but intensified. It took me embarrassingly long to pick something to cover him with, but I finally settled on a small white puffy blanket I knew Caesar would love.
I had to drive the long way around, as my SUV wouldn't fit through the narrow streets of the city, but now, parked outside of the café, in the dim light of a streetlamp, I was beginning to doubt myself. What if this was wrong? What if I can't actually take care of him? Was this the right choice? I reached for the cigarette holder in the compartment under the armrest, but abruptly stopped as a thought crossed my mind: It's not good to smoke around children, and sure, I had to agree. Questions over questions swam around in my head, one particularly persistent:
But can you leave him there like that?
Perhaps the only question that truly mattered.
I got out of the car, slammed the door shut, and walked in with a firm step. As soon as the lady saw me, she smirked, as if she knew something I didn't.
''Good evening again'' I said, fidgeting with my gloves as I looked around. The smirk on her face grew and I felt forced to clear my throat, ordering another lemon tea. I took a seat at the counter, discreetly looking around, wondering where the little boy has gone.
''He fell asleep. I brought him to his room'' she knowingly said, placing the cup in front of me. She sat down behind the counter, waiting for me to speak first. I took a sip of the tea, pretending to inspect the lemon slice inside.
''So, uh'' I started, clearing my voice and taking another sip. This was ridiculous. ''I'd like to ask you a question'' I said, finally looking up. She slowly nodded, her eyes following me as I began talking. ''Were it possible for me to...'' I paused, not sure how to continue. She offered a small smile, signalizing me to go on, and I tried again. ''Were it possible for me to take care of him?'' I finished in a breath.
''Well it depends'' she said, getting my full attention now. ''How old are you? I'm sorry to ask like this, but can you even afford taking care of a child?'' she questioned. Among hearing that, I straightened up a bit, taking another sip.
''I'm 24 years old. I am a lawyer and... I own a few businesses'' I cautiously finished. Silence settled in, and I was wondering whether I gave the wrong answer. ''I could show you where I live if—if it helps'' I offered. Her eyes lit up as she feverishly nodded.
''You should, yes'' she said, standing up and grabbing her coat.
''Oh wait, now?'' I asked, quickly standing up myself.
''Oh unless—unless this is inconvenient right now'' she hesitantly said, realizing it was already ten in the evening.
''Oh no, not at all'' I said, feverishly trying to remember whether the house was in a decent state or rather the opposite. I quickly downed my tea, silently cursing at the throat burn I got myself, and reached inside my pocket for a 5 euro bill. Before I could lay it on the counter however, I was stopped.
''Did you forget you paid for 10 teas earlier?'' she asked with a smile. I awkwardly smiled as I shoved the money back into my coat, heading out to the car. ''I'm sorry, I never asked'' I said, while pressing the 'start' button, revving the engine to life, ''what's your name?''
''I'm signora Palermo''
