As I watched my father being lowered into the ground, I stole a glance at the tall, fair-skinned red haired woman with brownish red eyes looking ahead instead of black casket being lowered into the ground. Fury burned in my eyes as my chest heaved with rage but I had already thrown enough tantrums during the past thirteen years of my life and I am not counting my teenage years.
"Now that's done," she looked at me. "We should get going. We have a flight to catch."
"Can't you stay until the will-hearing?" my Nonna asked.
The woman scoffed. "I don't think so. Its hard to believe that imbecile son of yours left anything for me or our son."
Grandma shuddered at that the woman's tone and I looked away to avoid the sad look in her eyes. I didn't want to believe a word she said because it was her fault that dad and I ended up with nothing.
According to my dad, the first sign of my mother's cruelty was when I was born. in a warm autumn evening in the hospital in Siena. My mom wanted to call me 'Giuseppe' the Italian form of 'Joseph' and after her great grand-father but my Nonna insisted on naming 'Marco' after Mars, the Roman god of war because of my rare red hair. They argued over this until my Aunt Marie, my father's older sister and a farmer living in Vercelli convinced them to call me 'Vittorio' which means "victory," and signifying the successful completion of the harvest season. My Nonna agreed because of obvious reasons but mother went ahead and had the name 'Giuseppe' written on my birth certificate annoying my family.
Although I was a young boy, I could remember my parents yelling at each other all the time over little things I didn't understand like supper being cold, or a pair of pants he couldn't find until I was ten. It was the same autumn season when I walked into the house and found it empty; no tables, no chairs, nothing! Panic flooded in me because I thought I forgot to lock the door before leaving and ran to the neighbors for help and they called the police. My father came home worried with something on his neck and when he hugged me, he smelt weird; like spicy fruit. It was two week later that I when I learned the truth; my mother sold our things and ran off with another man.
Over the next few years, I watched my father struggle to take care of me. I didn't know what he was doing but I knew he was working really hard because he'd go out in the morning and come back with moldy cheese and wine while smelling dead fish. My Nonna and Aunt sent bread and rice to us but they vanished quickly thanks to the rats. The house still wasn't furnished, I stopped going to school and wore torn clothes because of how poor we were.
Every time my Nonna came to visit she tell me all about my mother; the vain woman who always wanted more than one could make.
"I wonder what your father saw in that vile woman," she spat while patching the bottom part of my pants. "She always hated your father and out family but we forced him to marry her because she was carrying you."
I fiddled with my fingers while looking down at the ground.
"There were plenty of good women who wanted to marry your father but he picked that one and what did she do? She drained him dry and slept with other men! I wanted nothing more than to grab you and beat her up when she called him a 'fannullone' in front of me! She even slapped him!" she bit the thread and sighed at the sight of my trousers. "I am sorry it has come to this my son. I really do but this is the least I can do. Now wear them and let me see how handsome you are."
She told me this three days before my father died. I don't know what happened but my Nonna told me he was found dead near a building. This overwhelming sadness numbed me until the day we buried him. For the first time in years, I was wearing new clothes; a three-piece suit and was sitting at the front pew staring at my father's casket with tears until she arrived. Wearing a black dress with a black hat adorned with feather the she-devil didn't even bother to pay her respect to him. Instead she sat with me at the front pew, scoffed at my Auntie's speech and only took off her glasses to watch my father being put into the ground.
"I know you and my son never got along but can you at least find it in your heart to give us money?" my Nonna asked. "We will really need it to raise your son."
My mother chuckled ruefully at her words. "What makes you think I would let you have my little Giuseppe,"
"For the last time his name is..."
"Shut it!"
I thrash my head up at woman who was looking squarely at my Nonna with stern eyes and she grabbed my arm.
"You really succeeded in tearing us apart didn't you?" she snapped. "You treated me like a bad omen the day I met you and you pampered him until to the point that all that fool knew how to do was to go out, eat, sleep and sleep with any puttana that came his way! How am I sure you are not going to raise my child the same way you raised that fool!"
"Liar!" I yank my had away and glared at her. "My father is not a fool! You sold his things and abandoned us! You made him miserable!"
Both women looked at me; her eyes were in shock while my Nonna's eyes were filled with pride and I relished in that.
"Is that what this witch told you?" my mother asked.
I nod vigorously while looking at my Nonna who broke into a smile but I missed the smirk on that woman's lips.
"How disappointing," then she crouched down to my level gave me an evil smile. "You want to stay with her?"
I nod again.
"Too bad my little Giuseppe," she boobed me on the nose and smiled. "I have already made arrangements for you to come with me."
My eyes glow in shock and so did my Nonna's.
"What arrangement?" she asked.
"In court," she takes out a piece of paper from her black purse and gave it to my Nonna , "Here a copy of the custody arrangements with the fool's signature on it. Too bad you can't read."
With trembling hands, my Nonna took the paper and looked at with tears in her eyes. Then my mother grabbed my hand dragged me away.
"Wait," screamed.
"If you want the boy you have to go through my lawyer," she yelled back giving me a painful tug. I scream for help but the rest of the family all stared at me with sadness in their eyes while holding the piece of paper and as I was being shoved into the car, my Aunt broke down and cried.
Thunder rolled as the driver drove us out of the dirt path road and into the tared road punctuating the dead silence in the car. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I recalled the times I spent with my father. Despite being poor, he took me fishing at the creek, told me stories and comforted me when I was hungry. We were poor because of the witch sitting next to me and when I looked back at her, she was smiling at me like one.113Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJHeyuf6zht
"Aww my little Giuseppe," she wiped the tears from my eyes. "It's okay. You don't have to go to bed hungry anymore. Mama went to get a proper job to finally have the power to take care of you. Maybe one day, I will finally tell you the truth about that horrible man that called himself your father. So don't cry okay?"113Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLY7iBctqeX
I slap her hand away and turn to face the window watching the raindrops race down the screen. We flew to a strange place called 'America,' and was driven to a house bigger than my own home. I watched in disgust as a fat man hugged my mother and tugged my cheeks before asking one of his servants to take me to my room.113Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ83yijF4tmE
A few months had passed since that faithful day and I finally understand the disgusting relationship my mother has with the man she calls her 'husband'. I go to school where everyone calls me a 'ketchup head' and I am finding it hard to learn their language but my mother doesn't care. She is too busy to catering to the "sciocco grasso" while I am hear suffering. I hate her for doing this to me and I will continue to hate this woman for the rest of my life. 113Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxgA4N8v0ku
