The Capo´s Queen by Gleen Black

Author:Gleen Black [Black, Gleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

The first time I saw my mother cry, she was on the balcony of her room looking at her paintings lying on the floor. I didn’t understand her reaction, we were millionaires, after all. Buying new paintings was not a problem. It was one of my first cold, selfish thoughts. I remember making a hurtful comment because I had been struggling for years to earn her attention and she managed to push us away at every possible opportunity.

Our mother hated us and had no qualms about showing it. She had a certain preference with punishing us, and her punishments were not at all conventional, but that night she just sat on the floor and hugged her legs pulling them to her chest and cried inconsolably for hours.

I didn’t want this life. Five words that scarred me. I wanted to free her from it all, from my father’s abuse, from the nights where he punished her by letting his men abuse her, from the many others where the punishment was even greater including me or Damon.

Today, tonight, many years later, my wife is my mother’s reflection. Sitting on the couch in my office, hugging her legs and repeating almost the same words. Relating the events of that night, which apparently marked us all. She tells how her father tricked her into learning to memorize numbers, which she thought was a simple game and not what months later she discovered.

“He pretended to treat me well, mom said he was my new stepfather. They promised I’d be safe,” she sobs.

“You said he was a pedophile.”

“Wasn’t he?” she questions. I can’t deny it. Gabriel Cavalli made many mistakes throughout his life; power took over his heart and he was a bad man and father. “I only lied for my own safety, I never thought Roth would rat me out.”

“Roth is not the one who told me,” I confess, that makes her look at me in surprise. “Holden did, the day of the hospital.”

“You knew all this time? W-Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What difference would it make? You had just lost our baby, you didn’t need that, and I told you tonight because I can’t stand to continue this relationship of lies, blame and arguments. An endless vicious cycle.”

“Now you’re going to hurt me?” she asks. I watch her, trying to figure out her words and how after so much, she is still able to ask me if I am going to hurt her, I suspect in a physical way, even after every lived moment.

“I would never do anything to hurt you, Emilie.”

“You’ve said that in the past, Don. Many times, and guess what? You always do it again.”

“Then teach me not to,” I plead taking a step in her direction and doubting my own sanity, why does it affect me so much to see her suffer? To cry. “If I want something, I demand it be done that way because I don’t know how to do it any other way.”

“My brother died,” she muses.

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