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| Best Advice I Ever Had | Started by: Marietta on Jul 22, '08 18:23 |
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A woman sits in a family owned diner, lines of worry etched deep into her face as her green eyes stare downwards at a cup of coffee clutched between her hands. She lets out an inaudible sigh, shaking her blonde hair back from her face and tearing her gaze away from her hands... tearing her mind away from her reverie. Her lips curl into a weak smile as a man approaches her, offering her a cigarette. With a grateful nod she removes one of her trembling hands from her mug and takes it, allowing the tall gentleman to light it for her. Taking a few puffs she gestures at the empty seat across from her. Thanks. Have a seat, she states, her voice gritty and worn. The two sit in silence for a moment before the man clears his throat. "You look troubled," he remarks, taking a hand to his tie and loosening it a bit. Troubled? she responds with a shrewd laugh. A look of distaste passes through her eyes and she wrinkles her nose. Suddenly, as if deciding the last thing she wanted to be doing was smoking, she stubs the cigarette out on the table, watching it extinguish into nothing but traces of smoke. You don't even know half of it, the woman continues, placing both of her hands back onto the cup of burning liquid. "Maybe you wanna talk about it?" the man offers, lighting up his own cigarette and taking a drag. She stares at him blankly for a moment before tilting her head. Yeah. Okay, maybe I'll talk about it. See, I was thinking about my family secrets. The man visibly became uncomfortable, fidgeting in his seat and darting a worried glance at the table across from where they were sitting. A genuine laugh escaped the lips of Marietta Rossi as she shook her head. What, you think I'm an idiot? Not my family's secrets. My family's secrets. You know? Mom, dad, brothers, sisters? Letting out a sigh of relief the man nods in understanding. With a smile Marietta lifted her cup and took a sip of coffee before continuing. There's something my Daddy always said that never really made sense to me... until now. The words are burned into my mind. Often times I hear them late at night when I'm laying in bed, tossing and turning, trying my best to stop my friggin' brain from thinking one more thought and just shut up so I can slip into sleep. Every time I think I'm on the brink of getting some decent shut eye for once in my life the phrase echoes through my head like an internal alarm clock; and with it, this horrible memory floats to the front of my subconscious. Family always comes first. Daddy always said that to me when I was very young, on the occasions I'd sit on his knee in the armchair next to the sitting room fireplace. I loved being his only little girl. On those nights it was just the two of us: he would get home late from the office and take a seat in his favorite chair and I would lay stretched out on the floor beside the bricks, working on my latest school assignment or drawing. Eventually he would call me over and I'd crawl into his lap. He would tell a story, God, he loved telling his stories. Just before the moral he would gently take his finger and tap my nose lightly, grinning in just the way he used to. "Family, Marietta," he would say, gaining a light that shone in his eyes. "Family always comes first." I'll admit I never really quite understood what that meant at the time. To me 'family' was my Father, my Mother and my four older brothers Leo Jr., Johnny, Al and Paulie. Never did I think his biggest piece of advice had more weight to it than I originally gathered. Never did I think that his advice would be the very words that would shatter our household into pieces. I knew from a very young age my Mommy and Daddy were apart of the "mob". My brothers and I were never allowed to know the ins and outs of what that entailed, but what we did know that if asked, Leo Rossi, my father, was a Banker and Lillian Rossi, my mother, was a housewife. This also meant that we had strangers showing up at our front door any time, day or night. Eventually those strangers became 'Aunts' and 'Uncles' that we always greeted warmly and socialized with, and then pretend they had never even been at our place afterwards. Sure, it was an awkward lifestyle, but it was what our parents seemed to love doing so my brothers and I made sure we let them run their 'business' as smoothly as possible by staying out of the way. At the time of the incident I was eight years old. I was walking home from school with my best friend Kleighton, chattering and giggling as we rounded the corner to the street where we both lived. Almost immediately I sensed something was wrong. Leaving my friend behind with nothing more than a dismissive wave I ran up to the front door of my house; the door was already slightly ajar. I remember how I crept inside holding my breath. Even now I can still feel the hammering of my heart and the knots that curled inside my stomach. The living room was dark and silent, shadows popping out at me and creaks from footsteps echoing over my head. Someone was in the house, at least. Footsteps shuffling around upstairs, muffled by the carpet. Slowly I slipped my jacket off my shoulders and tiptoed towards the staircase. Her mouth twists into a sickening smile as she turns her head slightly. A group of other patrons had gathered sometime during her story telling, and without so much as a batting of her eyelashes she took a deep breath and continued on. Lucky for me I just so happened to glance at the kitchen before I climbed up the stairs. My mother was a very neat woman and kept everything in order 'just so', which is why the sheet of paper lingering on the table caught my eye. Without even realizing what I was doing I walked into the room, my shoes making clicking sounds on the linoleum. The paper in my fingers felt as dry as my throat as I read the hand-written words upon it. A letter, for my Father. "Take care of her" it had stated. "The Don just found out and we can't cover for her anymore. Get it done or you'll be on the shit list next." I was trembling from head to toe as I approached the stairs. As if my young and innocent but morbid curiosity got the best of me I climbed them, one by one by one. Feeling my brain work overtime, I made a magnetic trip towards the bedroom at the end of the hall: my parent's bedroom. Part of me wanted to duck into one of the other doors that lined the hallway and yet I knew, for whatever reason, that I couldn't. My eyes slid over portraits and family pictures that hung on the walls as I came to a stop in front of the door. There was no sound coming from inside the room. God, I was shaking. I grasped the handle slowly and turned it, opening the door inch by inch. Thankfully it didn't squeal like usual. My eyes darted from side to side, assessing the situation and trying to comprehend it as much as I possibly could. Their bedroom door was angled to face the side of their bed. My Daddy was there, sitting on the edge of the comforter, using a hand towel to furiously wipe a red substance off the end of a kitchen knife. Beyond him I could partially see bare legs adorned with high heels, laying motionless on the floor. I knew those high heels. How often had I put them on and played dress up, strutting around the hallways pretending to be a movie starlet? Before I knew what I was doing I was calling to the body on the floor. "Momma!" I had half shrieked, half screamed. Of course this had alerted my Father to my existence. He stood up quickly, dropping the knife onto the mattress and striding over. His hand was on my arm and before I knew it he was shoving me roughly back into the hallway. The door snapped shut behind him, closing off my view of the horror that lay behind it. "Marietta," he had tried to say, calmly, over and over. She paused briefly, studying the wooden table with shining eyes before looking back up at the small crowd. I started to cry. "But you! Momma! How could you?!" My screams were getting louder by the second when he surprisingly wrapped his arms around me in a hug. "It's okay. It's alright," he kept whispering, soothingly. "Why?" I wailed in grief once more. "Family," came his response, his voice devoid of emotion. My Father had murdered my Mother and he felt no remorse. He half carried me half drug me towards the front door as I squirmed and kicked in his arms. Flinging the door open wide he placed me onto the porch and looked at me in the eyes. It frightened me to see no warmth there, like there usually was. "Family always comes first, Marietta." The same words he had spoken to me many, many times before suddenly took on a more twisted and grotesque meaning. We, his blood relatives, were not his family. Visuals of stranger after stranger flooded my mind and it became clear to me that those people, the people who came in the night with hushed whispers, they were his real family. "Go to Kleighton's. Come home tomorrow after school. Tell no one." With a sad look at me he shook his head and shut the door, leaving me to cry and freeze on the door stoop until I gathered my wits and walked down the street. Until this day... I've told no one but my best friend. After that something changed between me and my Father. Things just weren't quite the same. He tried his hardest to reach out to me but I... I kept him at an arm's length. Marietta took a deep breath, bringing her now cold coffee cup to her lips and taking a sip. The brew was disgusting, having sat too long, yet she needed something to wet her extremely dry throat. A look of sympathy was etched across the face of the man sitting across from her, other patrons slowly turned away from her, realizing that her silence indicated the story was over. "I'm so sorry," the man said, offering her another cigarette. She shook her head in rejection, sighing as her eyes met his. I didn't want to understand back then, hell I didn't even try to understand. Yet the older I get the more I realize... my Daddy was right. He knew. This life means that family, the ones you pledge your loyalty... it's them that will always come first. Since joining this thing of ours I've thought back several times to that day. My Father killed my Mother in cold blood for his family. When you decide to give yourself to this place, you literally give all of yourself. Even your heart. And even though I've been burdened with that thought for years... I've gotta say, that's the best piece of advice I've ever had. Her heart felt heavy as she turned to look through the grimy glass-paned window next to her. Watching people amble up and down the street for a moment she allowed herself to mumble once more: Best advice I ever had. |
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Kleighton was suppose to meet Marietta for coffee fifteen minutes ago, but of course she was running late. After entering the dinner she was able to spot her friend quickly, well sort of. The group of people crowded one area really tipped her off. Smiling, Kleighton walked to the counter and ordered two coffees. She took the two mugs and sat next to her friend. As soon as she saw the looks on the faces of people crowded around Kleighton knew what story Marietta had just told. She set one of the coffees in front of her friend. I think that is my favorite story of yours. Even if you never met this woman or her mother it just rips your heart apart. She turned her attention to Marietta and gave her a grand smile. You really are your father's child. Look at how you've become such an amazing story teller. Just when I think you won't be able to amaze me for a little while, here you are doing just that. |
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| Reply by: Kleighton at Jul 22, '08 19:14 | |
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<columbo stands="" emotional="" as="" he="" listens="" to="" the="" woman="" she="" shares="" her="" pain="" and="" knowledge="" brings="" heart="" wrenching="" tale="" an="" end="" approaches="" tearful="" speaks=""> Thankyou for sharing such a story, I understand you must find it difficult but your words are wise and your heart is big. I hope you feel better to get that off your chest and leave you with my deepest sympathys. Columbo joins the crowded streets and strolls home wiser than he was before entering the diner. The thought of the womans advice ponders across his mind, as he reviews it with deep thought he too agrees with the woman, family always comes first.</columbo> |
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| Reply by: Columbo at Jul 22, '08 20:28 | |
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Victoria approched her friends Kleightion and Marietta. On her way over to their table she was stopped by an unfamiliar man. The man looked like he had a lot weighing on his mind, he began to speak Excuse me, miss. Would you happen to be joining the other two ladies over there at that table? Yes, actually I am. Why are you inquiring? The man contuinued, well I just came from hearing a tragic story by Marietta telling me how she had witnessed her father murdering her mother when she was a young girl. It really looks like she could use her friends right now. Thank you, sir. I will be sure to comfort her. I appreciate your concern. Victoria shook the mans hand and made her way over to her friends. She didn't know the other girls for the same amount of time that they knew eachother. Victoria had only met Kleighton and Marietta a few years back while on a job together, but she became close with the two of them. She noticed every so often that Marietta would sort of get in a specific mood and looked like something more was on her mind. Not wanting to pry, Victoria didn't push e subject when Marietta would reply that she was "alright". Sitting down at the table with her friends, she just looked at Marietta and said to her. A stranger just stopped me and gave me a brief background of what you had just spoken to him about. It all makes sense now. Victoria hugged her friend and consoled her for a minute or two which seemed liken hour or so This is a risk you take entering this life, and you will never understand it until you're put in the same lifestlye yourself. Still, it doesn't make the pain any easier, just more accepting of the fate you might be handed one day in order to protect your famiglia. |
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| Reply by: Victoria at Jul 23, '08 04:45 | |
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Marietta smiled at the patrons who wished her well, nodding at Kleighton as she sat down. She took the coffee cup she was offered and took a sip. The brew was definitely better than the stuff she had allowed to sit while she told her tale. When Victoria joined them she smiled and turned to look out the window once more, losing herself back into her previous train of thought. It was a wild journey she had taken to be apart of the life she once swore she would never join; the lifestyle she had once detested had over time become the one she loved. Thanks, you two, she said, in a voice that was wavering with emotion, still refusing to look at them for the mere fact that she may end up crying in public. It just baffles me. Scares me, more like, you know? The lengths my Father went to... the lengths he has continued to go to in his time with his 'family'. I often wonder, would I go to them to? Pausing momentarily she sighs, exhaling loudly and allowing her finger to trace along a pane of the glass window. I'd like to think I would. No, I know I would. I know you two would too. But it makes me wonder about the other type of people. Shaking her head she looks back at her friends and attempts a weak smile. You know the ones I'm talking about. Often times you see people pledge their lives to their famiglia, then throw it away over a love affair or friend. In those cases the ends definitely don't justify the means. They end up dead, and they end up dead without honor. Glancing around the diner once more she brings the fresh coffee cup up to her lips and took another large sip. I suppose the ones that would throw away their love affair or friend... that's what makes a true, loyal soldato. |
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| Reply by: Marietta at Jul 24, '08 18:25 | |
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