Page 8 of Brando
The fear of losing them gnaws at me every waking moment. They are not just my sisters; they are the fragments of a home I cling to, the family I vow to protect at all costs. My only remaining family. I would martyr myself to keep them safe, to keep them from the harsh reality of a world that seeks to destroy us. I would do whatever I need to in order to protect them from all the ugliness of this world.
I dry the water from my face, smooth my hair back, then go in search of them. They’re not in the living room, where the TV is still on, but has been muted. They’re not in their room either. I go from room to room searching for them, panic starting to claw its way up my throat. It’s an acidic poison that travels upward and threatens to explode from the inside out.
“Damn it!”
I grit my teeth as my jaw locks back and forth in anger. They’re nowhere in the house. I push back the curtain and the darkness outside greets me. There’s no movement anywhere. No sound, no living breathing thing to prove that I am not entirely on my own. I bang my knee on the way to the door, cursing and muttering under my breath as I go. This is disaster personified. Uncle Mason warned us not to leave the house. We were all there for the lecture, all told the danger of us being seen outand about, and although we didn’t like it, we knew what had to be done. I really thought my sisters had come around; that they were scared enough into knowing we couldn’t step outside the confines of these walls without getting hurt. But obviously, I was wrong. And obviously, I was most likely the only one listening and the only one truly on board with Uncle Mason’ plan to keep us safe.
“Stupid bitches,” I mutter, as I run out into the night, looking up and down the dark street. Too late, I realize they may have left hours ago and they could be anywhere by now. I slap an exhausted hand to my forehead, a scream threatening to erupt. My eyes scan the nearby houses, all dark with overgrown hedges and trees at the front. The houses all appear to be empty. This really is like the town that time forgot. Time and space carried on, but this little slice of earth somehow got left behind. Knowing Uncle Mason and his penchant for all things nostalgia, I can only guess that this is just the way he wants it.
Uncle Mason hasn’t left any electronic devices with us, but he’s given me explicit instructions if I ever needed to contact him. Only in the event of an emergency, I was to go to the nearest mom and pop store two blocks down and call him on the number he made me memorize. He wouldn’t let me write the number down; I’d had to memorize it and now had to rely on memory muscle alone.
I start to run. I don’t even go back inside the house to get my shoes. The more time I lose, the further they get away from me. The more chance there is that they’re walking straight into the arms of the enemy. My father coddled the twins so much that it’s going to take years to undo the damage done to them in terms of self-preservation. They are too inside their own little bubble and have no concept of the dangers that inhabit our world. The thought of them being out there on the streets, vulnerable and at the mercy of the cruel world, threatens to strangle me. I can’tthink of all the bad things that could possibly go wrong, all the bad things that could possibly happen to them.
I realize I don’t have any money as soon as I step inside the store and a little bell tinkles above the door. An elderly man and woman sit behind the counter. The man looks up from his crossword with watery eyes. The woman stares at me even as she continues her knitting, watching me curiously, before she stands and looks me up and down, noticing my bedraggled state and bare feet.
“Are you alright, dear?” She has a Southern twang I can’t quite place.
I shake my head. They continue to watch me, although I don’t know who’s afraid more of the other. It could very well be that I am the one that’s more afraid of this odd, elderly couple.
“I…” I stammer. “I…don’t have any money. I need to make a call.”
The old man says nothing as the old lady angles her head, as though trying to figure something out.
She lifts a phone from somewhere below and sets it on the counter, pushing it toward me. It’s an old rotary in a sage green color. I look down at it in disbelief. There’s only one reason I know how ancient the phone is; we once took a field trip to the Historical Artefacts Museum and learnt all about the devices and systems that existed before our generation. All the things our parents grew up with that we had no concept of. All the things our parents insist we missed out on, because life was simpler then. Innocent. Beautiful.
I grab the receiver, fumble my way through the digits, starting once, twice, then a third time when I realize I’m dialing the wrong numbers. There’s a click on the other end of the phone when Uncle Mason answers, his terrified voice screeching down the line, like he has the number on speed dial and he already knows something bad has happened. He must know, because hetells me to stay precisely where I am and out of sight, before he hangs up.
The old lady moves the phone away and points to a door at the back of the store, her eyes slowly following the movement of her finger.
“Best you stay back there,” she says. “That’s your safety until your carer arrives.”
I almost stumble over my own shadow as I turn away. My actions are automatic, my mind numb as I force myself to walk towards the door. Nausea threatens to overwhelm me, but I push it down with determination.
“This is not real,” I repeat to myself as I step into the room and look around. “This can’t be real.” The small sitting area is a carbon copy of Uncle Mason’s living room. I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe and all I’m waiting on now is for daylight to come and my father to wake me and tell me this was all just a bad dream.
Pacing back and forth, my anxiety consumes me. Thoughts of revenge flood my mind as I plan how I will make my sisters pay for what they've done. They will suffer as I have suffered. I will cut their hair, break their nails, and force them to wear hand-me-downs to teach them that there are consequences for their actions. I will wring their grimy little necks once I get my hands on them.
5
BRANDO
The chatter at the table may as well be coming from a distance. I’m present, but I’m not. I’m listening, but I’m somewhat absent as my brothers joke with our sister-in-law Allegra. In all truth, she’s the best thing that ever happened to our family; the woman is the glue that keeps us together. She came to us by a stroke of fate - a bad one, depending on how you look at it - and she turned out to be a goldmine. Soon, we’re going to be welcoming the baby we’ve all been waiting for, an extension of her and my older brother Scar.
My father and hers were once best friends and promised each first born’s hand in marriage to the other. That happened to be my brother Scar and Allegra, Don Marone’s daughter. His one and only child. It was a marriage that was going to happen no matter what - a marriage forged in blood that would merge two powerful families into one massive powerhouse. But somewhere along the line, Don Marone and my father had a falling out; the once happy agreement to bind the two families suddenly became a matter of vengeance. My father swore to take Don Marone’s daughter by force if need be, after Don Marone took from us.
It was all very sordid, if you ask me. Don Marone had a secret affair with my aunt Thalia, and my aunt got killed during one of their trysts. My father had spent a lifetime sheltering my aunt from the ugliness of his world, but ultimately, the ugliness touched her. He was never the same again after his sister was killed.
We always believed that our father never forgave Don Marone for not protecting our Aunt Thalia, but we recently learnt that our father had known about their relationship the whole time. It was our mother’s meddling that had ultimately broken that relationship and the two men had parted ways – not amicably.
So my brother Scar swore to get vengeance for our father, and he married Allegra Marone, then continued to make her life a living hell. And the woman stuck it out. She gave back as good as she got. And she made us all fall a little in love with her. She made us fall in love with the idea of falling in love. And she became the sister we never had.
My phone chimes, bringing me out of my thoughts. I stare down at the screen. Put it down, then pick it up again as another message comes through. We’re having a family dinner at Allegra’s favorite restaurant; it’ll probably be the last restaurant gathering before she has the baby.
“Brando, are you okay?” Allegra asks. It’s always Allegra who notices, each and every time. Nothing gets past her.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You seem like you’re a million miles away.”