ATONEMENT (Alfonzo)

by Frank, S. W.

  “I’ll translate.”

  “Okay.”

  She handed him the lovely embossed stationary and waited. Nico squint in disbelief then cleared his throat. He would not repeat the words. Translated the note read;

  ‘DEAR SELANGE, THESE FLOWERS I FOUND IN THE TRASH. IT IS WHAT I THINK OF YOU. HAPPY YOU MISSED THE TOUR. PLEASE HAVE A TRASHY DAY. AMERICAN WHORE. –L.’

  Selange frowned, “It’s not an apology is it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, what does it say?”

  He gave the shortened version, “Only she’s glad you missed the trip.”

  “I’m sure she is after last night. Spiteful hussy.”

  Nico stood. He wouldn’t let Selange’s day get spoiled by Lucia’s childishness. “What do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon?”

  “Enjoy the peace but first I need some food.”

  “Then?”

  She shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe relax and watch a movie.”

  “Okay.” He took the basket, “Come on let’s get you fed.”

  She heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner as they walked through the hall. Last night they didn’t get an opportunity to talk. She glanced at him. He looked good, even with the beard. “How are you, really?” She inquired.

  They were descending the wide staircase, “I’m good.”

  He led her to the huge kitchen, with its terra cotta décor and authentic brick oven which was the main center piece. He dropped the basket and note in the garbage and pointed to a seat as he gathered food. He asked over his shoulder, “We have fritters, suppli al telefono, cazzilli, aglio-oglio, pastries, what do you want?”

  He put an assortment of food in front of her and she frowned, “It’s too much. A bagel and a fruit…orange or cranberry juice is fine.”

  His eyes narrowed, “Not eating, vomiting, hmm.” He located the bagels, piled some peaches in a bowl, handed her utensils and butter then disappeared to another side of the kitchen to check the pantry. He emerged with a large jar of cranberry juice all the while thinking…is she pregnant?

  He got her a glass, “Ice no ice?”

  “No ice, thank you.”

  He sat down and watched her pick at the peaches as if she were afraid they’d form legs and swallow her. “Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  “Then why aren’t you eating?”

  She felt hungry and wanted to eat but when she did, nausea set in. She slipped a peach in her mouth and chewed, waiting for the queasiness to start. “I’m eating, see.”

  The mechanical workings of her mouth belonged to a person eating without enjoyment or someone with morning sickness. He leaned forward propped his elbows on the table without regard for manners and stared at her. She was pregnant. Selange was not an anorexic, her weight was normal. The lips gave her away. They were fuller, more luscious.

  “How far along are you?” he asked casually.

  Her reaction was a cough and she quickly brought a hand to her mouth, “Hmmm, what?”

  Nico lifted the spoon and scooped up peaches. He ate without a problem. “You heard me?”

  Selange quickly glanced toward the entry to assure they weren’t overheard. “How’d you guess?”

  “It’s obvious.”

  She cut the bagel and ate a very small, almost crumb size piece. “A couple of months but I haven’t told Alfonzo yet.”

  “Why not?” He scooped more peaches into his mouth awaiting the answer. His eyes hadn’t faltered as he searched for signs of a lie.

  She shrugged, “Um, I don’t know.” Selange ate to avoid conversation. Emotions were building to a crescendo, immense guilt mingled with overwhelming sadness were forcing their way to the surface.

  “He’s your husband, why are you scared to tell him?”

  She shrugged.

  Nico noticed a liquid shine forming in her eyes. Selange wasn’t answering but in a way she had. “Is it because the baby’s mine, Selange?”

  Her lip trembled. One tear slid down her left cheek and then the right side chased it. “I’m not sure.”

  “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  She was sniffling, trying to stay in control, but started to crack.

  “What’s the plan, now. You can’t ignore or hide from it?”

  A violent shivering of the lips occurred.

  He put the spoon down with a clang in the empty bowl hoping to wake her from the self-recrimination. It’s done. Their indiscretion was long over and this was the aftermath. Either, she lived with it and moved or let guilt keep her locked in indecision. Punishing herself was senseless at this point, it wouldn’t change the past, he thought practically.

  He requested she look at him; he needed to see those eyes. Dammit, she was causing him frustration by avoiding eye contact, “What have you decided?”

  “I almost…,” the tears were flowing unchecked and he passed her a napkin. She pressed it to her eyes then looked around again, fearful someone lurked in the shadows.

  Nico however would hear their movements. He was not concerned with anything other than what she was about to tell him, “What did you almost do Selange?”

  “A month ago I went to a clinic, I got there and I couldn’t do it. No matter what the consequences I can’t terminate my unborn baby. I won’t do it!”

  “That isn’t what I meant.” He was talking about whether she decided to tell Alfonzo about their affair and the possibility he may be the father or whether she planned to eliminate his role altogether? Eventually, she’d begin to show.

  Selange confessed her torment. The weight of deception extremely heavy and breathing the truth seemed light as air. Her carefully guarded secret came crashing at her feet. She could conceal the truth about the affair, have the child, live this uncertainty, let Alfonzo believe what any husband would reasonably assume, but what if the child turned out to be Nico’s and Alfonzo found out, what then?

  She felt tortured and frightened by the unknown. It was like being caught in a web of deception and not being able to escape. She never wanted to crush her husband, he deserved far better than a lying, adulterous wife. Depressed by it all she simply wanted to dissolve and not think anymore.

  Nico hadn’t said anything more. The woman was a mess, apparently she hadn’t considered much of anything that night. He told her to leave and she failed to heed his advice. He gave her what she asked for and then she wanted more. Greedy seductress!

  If the child turned out to be his then following a demand to stay away or engage in pretense wasn’t an order he’d obey. Or could he? He hadn’t thought either, it seemed. This changed everything, didn’t it?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Alfonzo walked leisurely out the deli, gulping the liquefied dark roast coffee beans. The brew was void of sugar and the high caloric creams found in those over-priced coffee chains. He needed loads of the stuff to get through the day. He didn’t sleep at all last night. Once he got off the phone with Selange sleep dodged him. He felt antsy and on edge. There was a sort of hyper sensitivity at the follicles of his skin. It occurred frequently and sometimes the intensity varied from low to strong. This one was a ten on the human Richter scale.

  The body’s intuitiveness is remarkable. There are sensors that pick-up minute things in the environment, about people, detects danger and sometimes the receiver doesn’t listen to it. Alfonzo always listened, even when he didn’t know exactly which direction the potential threat came from. He guessed it was easier for some to ignore, they didn’t have to live their lives on edge every hour of the day, but Alfonzo had no such luxury. He was a man with enemies, quietly waiting for the chance to put him six feet under. He learned that lesson the hard way!

  This morning he had to get to the construction site before the inspectors despite his fatigue. He skipped breakfast to get an early start and made a quick stop to the office to grab some documents then came here to the deli for a large espresso. Vincent walked at his side as usual, his hulking frame keeping pace with the
younger man’s lethargic gait.

  Alfonzo loved Puerto Rico. He loved the scenery with its gorgeous greenery and lively tropical plants. It was a nice backdrop for a man with a hectic and precarious life. New York only hardened him like cement. The place wasn’t conducive for raising kids. The people were self-absorbed, stressed to death and working to pay exorbitant living costs. Shit, if crime didn’t kill you, stressing over bills certainly would. Then, there were the annoyances of incompetent government. Potholes, rabid traffic agents shoving parking tickets at you like crack fiends looking for a fix, unfriendly civil servants with scowls on their faces and a hostile attitude to match. Even more egregious, the obnoxious policemen and their guerilla tactics along with a billionaire Mayor who was so damn arrogant he bought himself another term while telling the cities inhabitants he took weekends off. A Mayoralty is a 24/7 job –go figure!

  But that’s abuse of power with a shield of legitimacy. Corruption and entitlement exists; it’s only covered up by one’s influential position and unfortunately the hue of one’s skin. His secondary mission in life centered on making changes where other good-intentioned politicians and businessman failed. He wanted a balanced system for his kids. A sense of fair-play regardless of ethnicity, religion, and all the things the constitution promised its citizens but racists, greedy government and businesses failed to deliver. One of the changes he wanted to institute would begin right in New York City’s police department and the residency requirements for recruits. The minute the elected officials he supported were in office, they’d revamp these guidelines. Candidates from the inner boroughs would receive preference over those out of the district. Nassau and Suffolk counties did it, why the hell didn’t N-Y-C? You’d think the department would want officers who resided in the five boroughs who’d understand the communities they policed. Maybe, they wouldn’t be so damn quick to shoot some innocent kid because he looked suspicious. What the hell is suspicious about a teenager walking down the street minding his own business? Oh, he forgot, suspicion only gets assigned to Latinos and Blacks. Yeah, they’re all criminals…so who gives a fuck about their civil rights? Was America so damn crazy they actually believed someone’s complexion automatically made them a criminal or less valuable? Didn’t the nut-jobs who thought this way realize they’re ancestrally African and those they seek to oppress and abuse are their brethren?

  Geez, the hypocrisy and ignorance of racist Americans!

  Alfonzo snorted, he cared because he had children and he didn’t want them growing up in a sucky world where their skin color was seen as a detriment. He’d crush legs and break every goddamn rule to prevent his children from enduring it. He wasn’t foolish to think he could eradicate racism altogether, some people were simply loco. He wasn’t an idealist; he was only a man seeking justice!

  The time for temperance passed. Adherence to the Constitution and strict enforcement of it was long overdue. He’d dismantle government from inside, revise the old boy’s club for the betterment of society and not a self-entitled few. Either, government abides by its promises for equality or he’d bring it crashing down with a bulldozer!

  Ah, stress! He stopped and rolled the kinks out of his neck, promising to hit the gym later. He needed a good work-out. He had to find some time to relax, everything was coming together, and patience is far kinder on the body then haste. He grimaced, ah, shit, he thought, ‘I’m beginning to sound like Alberti.’

  He inhaled the island air, took another sip of coffee then heard the unmistakable, familiar sounds of gunfire. In the street the man aiming straight at him was no other than the recently terminated GC, Bryan!

  The cup dropped out of his hand as Vincent shoved him aside and more shots echoed. In the exchange a molten flame struck his arm. Damn, instinct was a bitch, he thought. No wonder he was uneasy last night, Bryan’s belligerent attitude told him to expect trouble but goddamn he didn’t expect this!

  Vincent stumbled or ducked, Alfonzo wasn’t sure because in the commotion everything happened in fast reel; the popping noises, glass shattering, cars swerving and shrieks from pedestrians were a true life scene. No movie, this was real!

  Alfonzo reached for his .22 secured at his ankle, but Vincent pushed him sideways. When Alfonzo flexed forward with a black look, Vincent held him to the ground as another succession of shots rang out. The bullets whizzed overhead and Vincent returned fire, not wild shots but controlled ones.

  Bang! Bang!

  That’s it; two shots from Vincent’s M9 stopped Bryan’s progression. He was stumbling backward drunk with lead about to topple when from across the street a PRPD officer with the silver Guardia shield, his gun extended, both hands clasped to the revolver fired directly at the injured gunman’s head.

  Vincent saw the resulting impact as a bullet ripped through Bryan sending a spray of human tissue out the side. “Oooh, that gotta hurt,” he mumbled as Bryan’s legs buckled and he collapsed slamming face down in the street.

  People screamed.

  Alfonzo heard feet running, sirens and ensuing pandemonium. The contents of coffee slid to meet the thick pool of blood near his body. He lay there, unwilling to tussle with Vincent because he was too darn exhausted and frankly he could use a rest. He knew when it was over because the gunfire and panic-stricken voices ceased.

  Fifty Cents’ former rap hit played in his head and he jammed to it, finding it appropriate under the circumstances.

  ‘Many men…many…many…many…many men, wish death on me…I don’t cry no more…don’t look to the sky no more…’

  He would’ve stayed there, napping if Vincent’s voice hadn’t asked, “What the hell’s wrong with you; a graze and you’re dead?”

  Alfonzo looked at the sky and found Vincent staring down in amusement. “Go ahead pendejo laugh. I’m tired.”

  “No, you’re plain crazy.”

  “Que también.”

  Who the hell sleeps during a shoot-out?”

  “You kept knocking me over!”

  “Yeah, I did it so you wouldn’t catch a bullet in your big head, not for you to go nighty-night by lulling yourself to sleep with a 50 Cent death song.”

  Alfonzo got to his feet and examined the tear to his favorite Brook’s Brothers suit jacket. “Shucks!” Blood poured down the sleeve and he looked at Vincent, “He missed your large cabeza and got me.”

  “He’s a piss of a shot. Probably never shot a gun a day in his life.”

  “You have to stop pushing me, my reflexes are way faster than yours big guy.”

  “Bull-shit!”

  “The time it took you to shove me out of the way you could’ve covered your own ass.”

  “Shut-up kid, that’s not what I’m paid to do.”

  Alfonzo frowned, “Vin, just stop with the shoving shit alright?”

  “Yeah…yeah…yeah!” Vincent said dismissively then turned toward the active police scene. The cops were out in force. Soon they’d come to question him and Alfonzo. Yeah, they’d want his weapon until the investigation was over. He had others, but this one was his favorite. He heaved air; Alfonzo didn’t understand much did he? Vincent’s job was to keep him safe and out of harm’s way. Money wasn’t the incentive, far from it. He and Nico took oaths. They were sworn to protect Alfonzo and then he’d made another pledge to Alfonzo. Both were affirmed on the blood of the Giacanti’s. To die ensuring the grandson of Sergio Giacanti survived was a fulfillment of his duties, a goddamn honor!

  Alfonzo had his sleeve rolled up checking the bullet wound. Vincent’s right, the projectile didn’t penetrate any muscle or bone, it mostly hit the fleshy portion of his upper arm. He needed a few stiches, otherwise, he’d live.

  His chuckle got Vincent’s attention, “You owe me another coffee.”

  “That’s all you can think about, coffee and your precious suit?”

  “Right now, is there anything more important?”

  “How about you almost got done in by a two-bit drunk?”

  “Almost, is an adverb,
it modifies a verb, so I guess I didn’t get done-in by the two bit drunk, did I?”

  Vincent cocked a brow at the younger man, yeah, he was talking crap which meant Alfonzo really needed some sleep. “Let me get you that coffee so you can function, ‘cause right now you’re not making any goddamn sense!”

  The chaotic scene was over. It ended with Bryan’s lifeless body in the street, two bullet holes to the chest, courtesy of Vincent and a kill shot above the right ear, courtesy of PRPD. Alfonzo shook his head, goddamn, it was safer dealing with known criminal associates then so-called legitimate businessmen!

  ***

  After the emotional disclosure, Selange went for a stroll on the grounds. She asked Nico to please give her space to think. She couldn’t deal with his overpowering presence. It confused and distracted her. On one subject he was right, she had to tell Alfonzo about the pregnancy and take care of herself. The paternity could easily be rectified through DNA. The question Nico wanted answered was if it is his child would she let him be a part of the child’s life?

  Her head tilted skyward and she watched the fluffy clouds, wishing she could teleport there and rest her weary limbs in their soft embrace. Time did not rewind or suspend itself. It did not pause to grant reprieve for one’s mistakes. No one can rescind their actions; only pray the passing of hours healed the stinging wound, leaving no visible evidence of injury.

  The cool air whipped the hair from her face as she walked to the stone bench in the center of the garden. She sat there and gave herself a much needed hug. Holding tight to hope, praying fervently God forgave her and praying Alfonzo would do the same.

  Her head touched her chest as she sat there listening to the wind and the distant sounds of cars bouncing along unaware of her misery. She wondered if the burden would ease, and thought how foolish, of course it would not. Every day she harbored this secret, she’d suffer in solace. Her punishment was pain and an uncertain future. The fluctuating hormones were partly why she cried harder, the other part was, she mourned the death of her marriage and her soul if the child was not Alfonzo’s. It was inconceivable to think Alfonzo would stay. What man would or could?