Tainted Faith

Forty Two: Quarantadue [re-written 10/12/21]

[RE-WRITTEN]

"You shouldn't be here," Liliana murmured softly, her hand reaching out to grasp Mercello's while they remained in the peaceful safety of the black town-car.

Parked as close to the church as they could be, neither of them made any move to get out of the car just yet. Outside, there was a crowd of people and Liliana was surprised by the number of people here dressed all in black, attending the funeral service. She hadn't expected so many people to attend. She also hadn't expected for Marcello to attend - not in the condition he was in. 

She had begged him to stay in their bed this morning, but no amount of pleading had worked. Marcello had been determined to attend, and any last attempts from here wouldn't work. 

"You don't think it's my place to attend Alessandro – my grandfather's – funeral?" He responded stiffly, staring out of the window at the numerous guests filtering into the church. Nonetheless he held her hand, squeezing it gently.

"It's only been a week," Liliana sighed. "I don't want you back in the hospital because you pulled your stitches or collapsed in the middle of the service."

"I'll be fine, Liliana." Another squeeze of her hand and then he was letting go and opening the car door. Liliana watched silently with a frown as Marcello climbed out of the car with strained movements and a groan on his lips. He was on so much medication, yet still in so much pain and she couldn't understand how he was up and able to move. It seemed impossible to her that he was even able to stand. She sometimes questioned whether her husband was even human.

"You're going to hurt yourself," she muttered under her breath, though Marcello would have no problem hearing her at only a few steps away. He smartly chose to ignore her.

It had been six days until Mercello had been released from hospital – if 'released' meant ′decided to leave despite the doctor's warnings and her pleas for him not to hurt himself more'.

Angelo had been the first brother to be released from the hospital, and he was smart enough to stay at home resting. Giovanni had still yet to wake up. All three brothers were so very lucky to survive, and the fact that Marcello was tempting fate, showing no regard for his health, was maddening. He was a stupid, stubborn fool. 

Liliana didn't recognise anyone attending Barbato's funeral, other than Sophia, Cal and Paolo. They didn't greet one another, and sat on opposite sides of the church. Both Liliana and Marcello remained silent throughout the service or the car ride to the bar that Barbato owned, where the wake would be held. It was the same bar Liliana had once visited with Sophia, and it was packed by the time they arrived. 

Much like the first time she had visited the establishment - The Alchemist - the bar still looked drab; the décor was worn and the lights were dim. The old pool tables had been pushed to the side to allow more people to fit into the small space, and were now being used as a place for people to put their drinks.

It was with solemn discontent, that she surveyed the groups of equally solemn people habiting the bar. Some were already drunk, she realised, overhearing their slurred words. There were so many people here, more than she had expected. Perhaps Barbato had more family members - other than Mercello and Sophia - here to mourn him.

"I need a whisky," Mercello grunted quietly from beside her, the first thing he had said in hours, as he too surveyed the groups of people around them.

Liliana's scowl was instantaneous. First, he had discharged himself from the hospital when he was in absolutely no condition to do so, and now he was talking about drinking alcohol. Liliana was so furious with him she honestly thought she was going to cry.