A Crack with no Source

Social gatherings for me have always been something to avoid. Funerals marking the exception: for me they serve as a reminder; that everything ends. If not in life, in death. Forever was never a word to be used on people, perhaps memories. There's also this soothing consolation that those who make an enemy of me, will undoubtedly meets their end: if not immediately, slowly and puzzling.

In our family, funerals have always been a regular occurrence, giving the underlying blood war that has been on between my family and the Rugge family, for over 3 decades; over turf and power. The most beautiful of them were always on rainy days, and on some special funerals, the families call a truce and pay their respects together, though in pretense, but together. Those were the days worth looking forward to, everyone was present, even the bastards. And today happens to be one of those days, but I was never looking forward to this one. It was mama's funeral, Liana de Luca.

There was little to no chaos as we all stood under the heavens as she cried; tears of joy for a risen martyr, and we; tears of mourning for a fallen mother and queen – or so the priest proclaimed. I failed to shed any, but the tears of the heavens was enough for us both. This queen loved me as a cop would a thief. I was a reminder of her worst experience, Pasquale de Luca, all I was to my mother, was a bad memory.

It was Matteo who called my attention back into the moment, I had wandered: so far the voice of the priest calling me up for my testimonial was washed off as background noise, like chirping of a bird in a park, he could hear me grinding on my teeth and avoiding eye contact as I became the center of attention taking stand on the podium, hiding my twitching hands from being seen. I knew what I was expected to say, but it'll all be lies when I say them.

"Liana de Luca, a mother and a wife… I'm sorry, I can't do this…" an uneasy silence stormed through the gathering, but all I could feel was this tightness in my chest and a rise in my sensitivity to the rain as I exited the podium with tight eyes and a hard edge on my voice and words, those who knew me, understood, but to others: I was just a grieving son who couldn't bear to say goodbye. Maybe it was better that way anyways.

"I'm sorry, father." Pasquale whispered on their drive home with don Luca. An apology seemed appropriate giving his display on the podium.

"Pasquale…we all grieve in our own way. Let's talk extensively over a game of chess later when the crowd is less. You need to work on keeping your emotions in check when it matters. I know how she felt about you, and I'm sorry, you deserved better from a mother, but know, your brother and I will always love you. So it's okay that you're hurt." The don replied as he shoved and grabbed him by the back of the neck, tapping his shoulder gently and looking away through the window of the moving vehicle.

"Though, I'm never saying I love you, ever again to you. So remember this moment anytime I act shady." The don joked.

Before arriving at the compound, the rain had stopped to pour and visitors had already filled the courts of the house, waiting to pay their respects to the don.

"Great! Another show we need to keep up with. I'll be in the garden if anyone needs me."

As expected, the garden was filled with the silence any troubled man sought. The after scent of raindrops hitting the turned earth, the scent of wet roses, tulips, grapes, and apples filled the environment about. With clear skies revealing the beauty of the setting sun, serene and peaceful, one could barely hang on to what troubles them in moments like that, only a few can be better than this.

My cold and tender fingers ran through the wet prickly bushes of the roses, ever so conscious of the pain it hides, I felt my heart loosen up a bit, 'she was my mother after all. It doesn't matter if she loved me or not, I did love her for both of us, it should have been enough.' One at a time, I felt them drop, this time it wasn't the sky, it was me. In that moment, a soft and tender, yet melodious voice from across the garden, went. "That was quite a show you put up back there, Pasquale de Luca."

A crippling smile found it's way on to my teary face: she had always been this way. Finding me at the strangest of hours, seeking me out in every social gathering the two families were present at.

Quickly I cleaned my eyes as I jumped on my feet looking towards her, but not quick enough. She had spotted from where she stood, the state I was and in silence she looked, giving me the time I needed, but looking straight into my eyes. Even with the pity in her eyes, those bold hypnotic emerald green eyes didn't fail to hold me captive and make me cave.

"Ah! Something got in my eyes." I quickly said wiping through them again with my handkerchief.

"I see that, Luce. Something got in my eyes too last night. When I heard the news, I remembered my mother, remembered what it felt like, and then the thought of what you're going through… I'm sorry for your loss, accept my deepest condolences."

"It's nothing much really. We both know she loathed me. And I told you not to call me that."

"You say that, but your face says otherwise. You cared for her even though she didn't. It counts for something, you were there for me during my mother's passing, let me be there for you with yours."

"What? You'd sneak into de Luca compound just to see me?" I teased.

 "Bianca, I umm… hmmm!" I glanced at those emerald eyes one more time, knowing better, they always hold me captive. Short of words and standing there in silence, already lost. Looking in those beautiful emerald portals, everything around her lost meaning and was lost in time, all that mattered was her. Her dark curly hair that I never really noticed till now, the way it covers her face, gently guarding while presenting it, her perky green eyes, that speak in the language words could only dream, off of her radiated a healing I never knew I sought, it was then it all loosened leading to: a much needed acceptance, a lighter feeling and a realization of hope, hope that maybe finally… Someone does see me. The denial and grief was no more.

In the silence of that hour, as she turned to leave. She tightened her scarf and folded her hands, while hiding her face from the biting wind that blew through the garden.

"Bianca!" I blurted without knowing I wanted to.

"Yes, Pasquale."

"Here, let me." I whispered, getting closer to lay my coat on her. Gaining in, the air around her changed, gone was the scent of roses mixed with the after-smell of rain, lavender and spicy cinnamon rode the air around her as she stood at the mercy of my sight.

"Thank you, Bianca, I really appreciate you looking out for me. Now let's go have some of that cake you baked."

"Nice try, wise ass, it's bread."

As she spoke, there was a loud rumble up in the clouds, sound traveling so fast it shook the earth beneath the sky, driving Bianca into the arms of Pasquale, who held on to her like a child to his candy.

Running his hands through her back as she quivered, he blurted, "I love thunder clouds."

"Why?" taking her head off his chest and raising her eyes to look at him, she finds him looking down at her, she immediately caves cowering in delight.

"It's nature's way of screaming, letting it all out. It gives me hope to know even nature has it tough sometimes. It cries and screams out loud when it needs to."

"That's an interesting way to look at it, but if it gives you hope, then that's all that matters."

"I'm kidding, actually I love it only because it drove you into my arms." He said with a mushy grin that wouldn't wash off his face and Bianca smiling sheepishly and without control of herself.

"Now let's go have that bread."

Pasquale led Bianca towards the hall, but as they got to those huge doors standing between them and both families, she came to a sudden stop and pulled him by the edge of his shirt and goes, "I'm not going in with you."

"Don't be ridiculous, why not?"

"The way they all look at me, even my father can't stand the sight of me on most nights. I can't walk through the halls with all those eyes on me."

"Listen to me Bianca, you're beautiful and kind. And we're going to walk through that hall without a care in the world what others think. Not the don, and definitely not your shitty siblings. Apologies for the siblings bit. But I want them all to see how beautiful you look tonight."

"No; we're cool. They are shitty after all."

"Great; let's give them a show and an eyesore. Take my hand, make sure you lift you head high, so they can see that beautiful smile."

Pasquale pushed the doors open and all attention diverted towards them, a wave of silence hit the hall at the stunning sight of their appearance. He takes her by the hand and slowly advanced, they walked through the hall as though through a dream, majestically and in elegance, with every step they took, disdain and disapproval rode the air, everyone stepping back to make way for them, they rode the disdain and disapproval like a chariot. No one could say a word – Bianca loved it, 'there was no shame in his eyes as she walked beside him, he didn't care what others would say, seeing them holding hands, an heir and a bastard.' Resentment filled the eyes of their spectators, growing and almost spilling through their nostrils.

"That; was fucking awesome!" Matteo praised as they reached the other end of the hall, "but why didn't you use the other door like everybody else? And does this mean y'all are a couple?"

"Shit, I didn't know it was open."

"So we're just going to ignore my question? Alright…"

As they stood at the table breaking the bread Bianca had baked, a man approached Pasquale and whispered in his ears, "The don seeks an audience, immediately."

"Which of the dons?"

"Your father, don Luca."

As Pasquale approached where the dons sat, his father stood up and moved to the a corner of the hall.

"Father, you sent for me."

"Yes, Pasquale. Don't panic. I sense there is danger lurking. If I'm correct there's going to be a hit here tonight. All my security are out of post. I must remain here, so listen carefully to what I have to say. Go up to my room and empty the safe, take everything in it. Take your brother and your little girlfriend and leave, hide out by our spot in the woods. Only you and I know of that place. Come back in an hour and assess the situation, if it's safe you grab your brother and head straight to your rooms, if it isn't; head for Malcolm's he'll take care of you. I've taken care of her father, she doesn't need to go back to his compound. She's free of her duties as his child… by the way, that was quite a show you put up, it pissed the don off."

Confused and dumbfounded, Pasquale knew he had no time to argue or ask the questions he so desperately wanted to ask, but he trusted his father.

"Alright father, I'll see you in a few. It's a shame you won't get to taste defeat tonight." He joked, knowing he had no chance whatsoever against the don.

"The night is still young boy. And Pasquale! keep your brother safe for me. Remember to watch out for the nasty bishops and always read the board. Always. Leave the compound unnoticed. No one must know you're leaving."