Death And Love Poems (2) Mafia Romance

12. Squid and spider

Karyme

After further bickering, Aziz drives me to the airport in Catania. My stubborn self wanted to get out then and there in the middle of nowhere but he had a point I could not argue with. If Stefano is going to chase after me and find me there, I will be dead, no questions asked.

I board the first plane to Switzerland and don't stop till I get home and lock my door.

Stefano doesn't know my real name. He cannot just find me. He can ask about Aziz's girlfriend everyone he knows, but nobody will be able to help.

Except for Aziz himself. Hmm. I might have to apologize. I don't have to mean it, just do it.

I wasn't fucking ready for that conversation at that point. Who would be? Allah, Roxi, what did he do to you?

I sag to the floor, and sob. She is dead. They are both dead. Nothing makes sense anymore. This whole endeavor was only for my heart to get shattered. Now I know. Would I wish I didn't? I am not sure. As a journalist I am by definition a seeker of the truth but... this truth?! I would have been happier thinking that she is happy with Marco somewhere where nobody can find them.

But now I cannot change it. I cannot change anything.

Could I pull a Roxi and make Aziz fall in love with me and ask him for Stefano's head?

Snap out of it, Kary. You know damn well it's not a game and it will not bring her back, but, Allah, how temptingly it is.

I need a break and some traveling isn't a bad idea right now. Maybe to a low-key, corruptible country where I can get lost for a while just in case Stefano does get a clue.

I am a freelance journalist but lately, I made good money on the side as a social media manager. I could do that as a main job, work remotely, have a break, and ... mourn.

He killed her. Who might he have killed first and who had to watch? Fuck. You are losing it, Kary.

I keep crying and unavoidably thinking about how to move past this. I don't want to end up on the walls of Stefano's office.

Half a day later I am on a plane to my chosen destination: Croatia. Low key, beach destinations, not so far from Switzerland and corruptible enough if the need arises. It's almost June so it's even a good time.

Letting go isn't so easy but I need to do that. I hope you are with Dani in whatever heaven you imagined for you two.

Days go by tainted with grief, fear, occasional anger, and morbid thoughts. It is what it is, but I can't help feeling depressed.

I was thinking several times about calling Aziz and asking him what he knows about Marco. But to what end?

Just move on, Kary, as difficult as it may be.

Three weeks passed and no mafia came for me.

Grief is a process that changes with time. It doesn't pass from one day to the other; it morphs, sinks, and resurfaces. I let it linger and try to concentrate on work and on the girls I pick up occasionally in the Croatian beach bars.

It works. And yet again one day, that didn't start at all ominous, was changed by an unexpected phone call.

Damian. His name is shining on the display for minutes and I don't dare to pick ip. I will have to tell him that she died but I am afraid to say the words out loud.

"Yes," I answer finally.

"Kary! Finally. Where are you? I was afraid you disappeared too. How are you?"

"I am in Croatia." I barely keep my voice from shaking.

"Oh, nice. So you desisted of chasing after Stefano Messina."