Sins of the Father by Vincent B Davis II

Author:Vincent B Davis II [Davis, Vincent B II]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-03T16:00:00+00:00

Little Italy, Manhattan—December 23, 1928

Sonny held his father’s rosary beneath the table, rubbing the beads with the tips of his thumbs.

“You have to eat your food, Ma,” he said, tamping down his frustration. She looked at him with displeasure and pushed the plate away. The police had given the rosary and a few other items to Sonny after they were finished analyzing Alonzo’s body. He had asked where his father’s ivory-handled razor was, but apparently it had never turned up. He searched the barbershop himself, to no avail. The rosary would make a nice consolation prize. It hadn’t left him since.

“It’s good, Ma. I worked hard on it,” Maria said. It wasn’t good, Sonny thought, but he couldn’t blame his sister much. Rosa had been the cook of the house until Alonzo’s death. Afterward, she showed disinterest in eating altogether.

A knock sounded on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Sonny said, standing from his chair.

“No, allow me,” Maria said, just as anxious to get away from their sulking mother.

Sonny made it to the door first, finding a man he didn’t recognize on the other side.

“Hello,” the man said, a grin appearing and then disappearing just as fast.

“Can we help you?” Sonny asked. The man extended a bouquet of flowers and a brown bag.

“Mr. Domingo?” Maria said, craning to see over Sonny’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Well, just call me Buster. Here, I brought you some flowers.” He handed them to Maria, and gave the brown bag to Sonny. “That’s rigatoni. My family’s favorite dish. That’s for Mrs. Consentino.”

“Thanks,” Sonny said, and began to shut the door.

“Thank you, Buster. She’ll love it,” Maria said. Sonny knew Rosa wouldn’t eat it, and assumed Maria did too.

Buster tipped his hat and turned to leave. Maria pushed by her big brother and followed Buster. Sonny started to close the door, but then left the door open a crack to watch them.

“Why did you come?” Her voice was more gentle than questioning.

Buster lit a cigarette and leaned up against the wall.

“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to sleep,” he said, trying to explain himself by talking with his hands, but he still couldn’t find a way to express what he meant. “Thinking about you all without your father on Christmas. Your brother meant a lot to me in France, and I just…” He couldn’t make eye contact. “I better go.”

“Wait,” Maria said, following him down the steps, “what are you doing for the holidays?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. My family is all in Chicago. I guess nothing.”

“You should join us.”

“No, I couldn’t. I don’t want to impose.” He leaned down the stairs like he was trying to get away.

“Please do. Maybe you can convince Vico to come. We’d love to see both the twins. And you as well.”

Buster hesitated, and seemed to search for more excuses. “Okay. I’ll be here. I’ll make sure Vico is here too. We may be out of uniform, but he’ll still follow an order.” He gave Maria a boyish grin and then descended down the steps.

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