His Desires

Chapter 16: Michael

Many people walk in and out of your life but only true friends leave footprints in your heart. -Eleanor Roosevelt. 

''Have you told her anything?'' My father questioned me. We sit at his desk in the study where I sit adjacent from him. The peculiar scent of old books and roses suffocate the room, a clear indication of my mother's presence in here not too long ago. If not in the garden then mother would be in here, browsing through titles until she found a book that attracted her eye. Where my father sat now, she would be seated with a book perched comfortably on her lap. It's why father designed a library with structures to accommodate rows upon rows of literature in all genres for her entertainment. Seemingly I always wondered why he overcompensated a room just for her leisure and now I understand why. Now I understand why he treats my mother the way he does. I would do the same for Amalia. No, I will do the same.

''Victor? For God's sake, are you listening to me?''

Father is getting rather frustrated and I perfectly understand why. Camille is sleeping under his roof. The wife of his former best friend now his greatest enemy may possibly be endangering his family. Not only that but the daughter of Camille and Michael also reside under his roof or more specifically, in my bed. I still don't know what happened sixteen years ago. Why Michael turned against my father. Why Camille left him and ran. Why we didn't know about the child that they had together. Amalia may have questions but so do I.

''Si, I'm listening.'

He shakes his head quickly, ''Son, you speak to me in Italian. That is our language.''

I nod my head slowly and place my leg across my knee, resting my chin on my knuckles I continue in Italian, ''It may be, yes, though that's not the reason why. I know you father – you're anxious. But why? Anxiousness has never been a word in your vocabulary.''

''There are things that you do not know, things outside of the business that I never wanted you to be involved in. I love you, my boy. Understand that, although I have done inexcusable things; things that have made God turn against me, it is who I am. Yet with all the sins I have been blessed with a wife and a son. Now I'm not so sure that this wasn't meant to last; that God is punishing me for my sins.'' He heaves as he stands to his feet, leaning closer he places his hands on the desk. Father lifts his head and stares at me with a sombre expression on his face. A look that I have never seen before. It chills me to my very core and pierces my soul.

''What is going on, padre?'' Never has my voice sounded so puny. My father doesn't even bat an eye. Instead he walks around the desk slowly with hands behind his back. The temperature decreases dramatically with every step he takes towards me. I have trouble controlling my nerves; my eyes dart around the room looking at anything that could calm my racing mind. My mother's face on the wall and to the clock on father's desk flashing 4:08 a.m. The house is asleep, Amalia is safe and warm. But for how long? An Italian Crime Lord is frightened and so I am too.

''I have told you countless of times that your weakness is someone else's strength. Before I met your mother, I didn't have any.'' He stops talking and turns his head to look at her face smiling happily on the wall before he continues, ''I had no fears, no cards that I wasn't afraid to gamble with. I just fucking did what I wanted to – what I had to do. Respect is what I wanted. Like my father and his father before him and so on. The Fizetto name was to be respected in this country. I opened myself up to someone, Victor. Showing them what I knew, my life, my past. Finally there was someone to share the business with.''

''Mother?''

He shakes his head. ''Michael.''

I stared at my father, hoping I could mask astonishment with a neutral expression, though he was not a man that could be fooled. Period.