Page 28 of Alfie: Part One
“Have you forgotten everything I taught you?” she asked. “All the people we saw when you were little. I would tell you who they were and what they did. I warned you how many of them glorified the Sons of Munster because they happened to look out for our neighborhood. But what about all others? All the money they donate to the church comes from somewhere, you know. Drugs, murders, theft. Can you look me in the eye and promise you will never get involved in their crime organization? Can you promise you are not already involved?”
“We’re about family. We do lie to our loved ones, but there’s no fuckin’ hazing to join. These days, you don’t gotta ice someone in order for us to know you’re with us.”
We do lie to our loved ones…
Finn’s words came back to me, and I couldn’t describe it. A calm washed over me, with resolve and determination.
I was never going to kill anyone. That was the one thing I could promise. But it didn’t matter. Iwasgoing to be a Son, and I was going to make sure my parents and everyone else I loved never had to worry about money again. So far, they barelylet me pitch in. They had medical bills and whatnot. And one day, they’d be old enough. They wouldn’t be able to continue working, much less resist my assistance—and I could put them in a nice place wherever they wanted. They wanted to retire in Florida? Go for it. They wanted an apartment close to me and the kids? Let’s buy one.
I took a step forward and planted my hands on Ma’s shoulders.
“I’ll admit I’ve kept shit from you, knowing they look bad,” I told her. “But I swear on my life I’m not a Son. I’m interested in getting to know my other family—Finn, Liam…whoever else.Notthat piece of shite John. Okay?”
She stared up at me in silence, all her worries and fears flitting by. I could tell how badly she wanted to believe me—and that she wasn’t there yet.
She released a breath and reached up to comb back my hair with her fingers. “It’s been a long time since I made peace with how my baby came to this world. We do things when we get cornered—when we’re barely able to scrape by. And I see him in you, you know. I see the Murrays in your eyes and in every freckle. When you were little—every time Grace picked you up and spoke of your Irish eyes…” She trailed off, and I swallowed hard. “Maybe you’re curious and want more. I don’t know. I just hope you remember what happens in their lifestyle too. It’s not all money and fun times. Grace was murdered in broad daylight just a few blocks away. Did even a year pass before her eldest son was killed?”
She took a step back and reached for her purse on the counter.
“It has kept you safe for thirty years to view her as Grace O’Shea, the woman who was married to a big shot in the Sons of Munster. The woman whose brother offered me a way out.” She leveled me with a serious look. “The moment you chooseto consider her your late aunt, you are playing a very different game.”
She had nothing left to say, and I didn’t know how to respond anyway.
Without a word, she walked out of the kitchen and left.
When I drove out to Ardmore a while later, I felt…off. Zero anger, zero worries, zero nervousness. Just…like, a blanket of melancholy. A sense of bittersweet.
I lit up a smoke and rested my arm in the open window. Traffic was aggressive as always. People honked and yelled. I barely heard any of it. I was lost in my head.
I took a drag from my smoke, and the sun’s hot beams landed on my arm.
“Those are my genes protecting you from the sun,mijo,” Ma used to joke when I was little.
Sometimes, I wondered how my life would have played out if she had changed to another church when I was a baby.
I didn’t even know if I believed in God, and yet religion had played a huge part in my life.
I’d grown up in a predominantly Irish working-class neighborhood, with a generous dose of people with roots in Italy, Poland, Ukraine, and South America. The gentrification had definitely begun, but you could step back in time when you went to church. Father O’Malley offered a glimpse of what the hood had looked like in the sixties and seventies, based purely on the people who showed up for Mass.
Ma had grown up there too, and she’d stayed when her parents decided to return to Puerto Rico. It wasn’t as if mygramps wanted to go to Italy anyway. He’d visited once, and he often said he’d never felt more like an American.
“My grandparents would roll over in their graves—rest their souls—but the only Italian my folks passed on to me was my store.”
“And your temper,” Nana would tease.
Ma hadn’t made much of an effort to bring our heritage to the surface until I was older. But when we’d introduced her to the kids, she’d proudly claimed the Nonna title.
I should call my grandparents soon. Or fly down with the kids and visit.
Nana and Gramps had been sad to learn about my divorce.
I took another drag from the smoke and exhaled heavily.
Ma’s guess was probably dead-on. I did want more. I was curious. Despite having argued the opposite, I wanted a big family where everyone could be themselves.
For some dumbass reason, I’d been guilty of my own gentrification process in an attempt to make shit easier. To build bridges and bring us closer together.
Our wedding had been a prime example. My grandparents had come up from Puerto Rico. My family on Dad’s side had dusted off their funeral suits or rented clothes. Ma’s brother and sister, and their spouses and kids—all the same.Weworked. We were a hotheaded, loud bunch from mixed cultures, but we worked. Because we were from similar neighborhoods and had shared the same upbringing. And then West’s family…? Mother of Christ. The church had been packed, with my side not-so-discreetly complaining that it wasn’t Catholic. And they’d expected a big party afterward. Of course they had. When my cousin Albie got married, all the women had cooked, the children had run around, the… It’d been wild. Colorful.Fun.