By the time we get to the hospital, I’m a nervous wreck. We hop out of the car at the front entrance and rush inside. Sienna is beside me, continuously giving me updates that she is getting from her mom.
“She says to bypass the emergency room and go up to the fourth floor,” Sienna says as we stop at the security desk for our visitor passes.
“Must be nice, having the director of general surgery in your Rolodex,” I muse, not to the delight of Sienna.
My mother and sister are in the waiting room when we arrive. We spoke briefly once I saw the missed calls from them on my phone. All they wanted to know was that I was on my way.
I can barely see my mother because she’s swarmed by four of my aunts. A few of my uncles are on the other side of the room, looking distraught.
“Finally!” my mother cries when she sees me. “You should have been home. I wouldn’t have been sick with worry, waiting for you to arrive.”
“How is he?” I ask as I kneel beside her.
She’s holding on to the medal around her neck and grasping on to my aunt for support, as if she’d fall off the chair without it.
“He went into surgery an hour ago. I can’t take this. When will someone come out and tell me what is going on with my husband?” Her words are said loudly toward the desk, where a woman is sitting by a computer.
I pat her hand and breathe in a way that wills her to follow. “You need to try and relax. You’d be no good to Daddy if you gave yourself a heart attack with worry. Just breathe.” She follows my breathing pattern and seems to relax only a touch, making me wonder if they have any spare Valium in this place. “Have faith, Mom. Say a prayer. That always helps you.”
One of my aunts takes a prayer book out of her bag. “Saint Raphael is the patron saint of healing.”
Mom lets out a whimper. “How fitting. My wonderful Raphael is named after the saint he needs.”
She joins hands with my aunts as they sit beside her, reading the prayer to Saint Raphael in unison.
“Saint Raphael, the Archangel, arrow and medicine of Divine Love, wound our hearts, we implore you …”
My mother isn’t the most religious person, but she turns to prayer when times get rough. And when she loses the remote or the car keys or her e-cigarette.
Sienna pats me on the shoulder. “I’m gonna get some sodas and junk food.”
“Thank you,” I say as she walks out of the waiting room, toward the vending machines.
Gia is seated near the windows. Her earbuds are in her ears as she sits with her knees pulled to her chest, lightly crying.
I touch her knee. When she notices it’s me, she jumps up and hugs me tight. I can feel the worry seeping out of her skinny body.
“How are you holding up?” I ask. She looks so young, and weary. I motion for her to sit back down.
Her eyes are red and her cheeks splotchy, making her look like a child. Her lip trembles as she tries to speak. I rub her back and console her.
The man in the seat next to her gets up and lets me have the chair. I let my sister cry on my shoulder.
“You shouldn’t cry all your tears when there might not be reason to,” I say even though I want to cry myself. “Dad is strong. He’ll make it through.”
“He shouldn’t have to.” She wipes her nose with her forearm. “What kind of horrible person would try to kill him? I’m so scared, Amelia. First, the shooting at the club, and then he hid away, obviously frightened for his life. And now, he’s here. Why is this happening?”
Gia and I have both lived a life where we knew our family was different than others, yet we never knew the severity of our father’s reach into the criminal world. He’s an underboss of a crime ring. Laundering, theft, drugs, and guns. They’re all part of the deviance he kept us from. For what? So we can go to good schools and have nice things. Maybe it was for his personal status. As I look at my uncles conversing, I have a feeling my father works the way he does because it’s all he knows.
The family business is beyond what I ever imagined. It’s put us all in jeopardy.
My sister deserves to know the truth, just like I did. And yet, while I know I should tell her … I can’t.
Gia is a bright-eyed girl who loves her family. She enjoys putting on shows and telling the tallest tales. Where I was kept in a bubble from my family’s secrets, she’s been kept in a vault, hidden away from any negative energy. I don’t want to spoil things for her. Not today at least.
“I don’t know why someone would do this. But I promise I will do everything I can to stop it,” I vow.
She looks up at me with an incredulous stare. “How in the world are you going to make this stop?”
I bite my lip and look away. “I don’t know. I just don’t like seeing you this sad and scared.”
“Do you think it could happen to us? Me, you, Mom, or Uncle Frankie and his family?”
“No,” I lie.
She squeezes me tight, tucking her head on my shoulder. I rest my head on top of hers. Images of something like this happening to my sweet little sister run through my brain. The thought makes me nauseous.
I clench my lips shut and try to remember a better time, one when we were the Sorrentinos, living our normal life. Days on the family yacht with my parents sitting on
