“It’s like he’s allergic to sleep,” I said finally, mystified at the strength of Antoni’s lungs. He wailed at such high-pitched levels Paolo and I both winced.
“He seems quite…displeased. Where is Maria tonight?”
At the thought of our faithful housekeeper, I almost crumbled into the fetal position. She’d done her best to assist me since Antoni had been born, but I’d struggled with letting go of my child. Being away from him brought flashes of illogical fear, and I didn’t trust anyone to care for him like I did. But I was becoming brittle under the burden of Antoni. Something had togive, and I knew it would be me. I could feel the cracks widening under my skin. I couldn’t continue this way.
“It’s her day off.” I shook my head, misery rounding my shoulders. “Romeo is god knows where, leaving me with his devil spawn.”
Having a child was harder than I expected. The pregnancy had been an inconvenience, one I tolerated because it was for a finite amount of time. The birth had been a nightmare I’d blocked from my mind, and the first few weeks of motherhood were even worse. I’d had hernias and stitches. The flood of hormones had turned me into an endlessly weeping puddle. I’d transformed into a woman who huffed at her baby’s head and got misty-eyed at every slow blink. But the hormones settled, and my emotions stayed behind the wall they belonged in. Romeo had been busy dealing with Rocco Donato, who thought a newborn would make him softer. But in reality, it only made us more savage. My heart had a spotlight on someone new. A baby, who was entirely helpless, covered in spit-up, and looked like a radish when he squalled endlessly. My son. My heart. My child of Satan who hadn’t slept properly for months. Paolo reached out and squeezed my shoulder.
“Do you think Merissa could…” I looked at my cousin with wild, desperate eyes. His maybe, sometimes, on-off girlfriend, was more maternal than I was, and she didn’t even have children yet. Paolo grimaced and shook his head.
“Sorry Anita, she’s laid up in bed right now, and I’m giving her a little space.”
“Did you break up again?” I didn’t have the capacity to really care about his answer, but that was the natural way of exchanges, and I wanted to build goodwill so that she might take my terror child off my hands in the future. I didn’t understand Paolo and Merissa. Their attractions were magnetic.But the jokes turned to insults too easily, and they clashed like fireworks.
“We were never together. Look, I know you have your heart pinned on me settling down, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. Not every happy ever after looks like you and Romeo. I’m perfectly happy, and what I have with Merissa…it’s unconventional, but it works for us.”
I slid him a look. It sounded too much like he was trying to convince himself of it. But his jaw jutted out, and I knew I wouldn’t get an honest answer out of him. I bumped my shoulder against his.
“Well, what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining. Romeo won’t believe me that Antoni has the lungs of a murderous opera singer. Now I have witnesses.”
Antoni was screeching the most discordant song I’d ever heard, a battle cry that promised to curse every person I ever loved if I didn’t pick him up and forget about forcing him to sleep. Paolo got to his feet with a groan.
“I can’t listen to this any longer.” He pushed open the door and picked up the red, cheeked dictator. Antoni flopped his head down on his uncle’s shoulder and narrowed his glistening eyes at me.
“Maria says I’m supposed to leave him until he cries himself out,” I protested feebly, my ears still ringing from Antoni’s tears. Following Maria’s advice was impossible, when every time my son cried, I wanted to stab something. I reached out and ran my fingers through his downy hair. He snuffled into Paolo, blinking under the bright hallway light. Paolo walked into the lounge and settled into the sunken seated area. He rubbed Antoni’s back with small circles.
“You are good at that.”
“So are you, Anita. I know you were worried about how you would be as a mother.” He stopped rubbing Antoni to wave offmy warning glare. “I won’t talk about feelings or emotions. Don’t worry. But you’re shattered right now, and you need a break. I’m here on Romeo’s behalf. He has something he needs your help with at the warehouse. He asked me to drop by and send you down.”
I hesitated, a dusty bloodlust sluggishly churning through my veins. Months of sleep deprivation had slowed my extra-curricular activities, and I hadn’t had time to do much except the briefest check on my plants. Antoni stuffed his thumb in his mouth, and his eyes dipped in drowsy comfort on Paolo’s shoulder. But I hesitated to leave him. So small and helpless. He held a part of me in his firm, tiny grasp, and I didn’t know how to process it. Paolo seemed to understand my reluctance, shooting me a teasing grin.
“How about I wake him up again? Remind you he doesn’t always look this cute.”
I leapt off the couch and hurried to the door.
“Don’t you dare. I’m taking in a miracle, but if you wake him up, I will throttle you.” My throat tightened at the sight of him, and I clung to the doorway. “He’ll be safe with you.”
The mantra was more for me rather than Paolo, whose soft smile and gentle nod gave me the strength to pry myself away.
“We’ll be right here, waiting for you.”
“Ok,” I drew a shaky breath, gaze pinned on my son, who was still asleep. “His bottles are in the kitchen, and I have—”
“Anita. Go.” Paolo frowned, “trust me, if I can handle you, I can handle your son. Your husband needs you now.”
I left before I changed my mind, and the entire drive to the warehouse, I struggled with the sensation of emptiness in my arms. I bemoaned the weight of Antoni earlier, the way his hands pinched my underarms when he nursed, leaving bruises. It was claustrophobic, but now, being relieved of my son, I felt hollow, wrong.
By the time I wandered into the warehouse, I was a fraying string, taut with tension and close to breaking. Why did Romeo need me here, anyway? I barely had the time to spare for my husband. One of our guards had discovered a group attempting to operate in Greenich Bay. They thought they could muscle in on our territory and infiltrated some of the industrial fringe of the west side, close to the port. It was brash youth and plastic egos. Strength that could be easily shattered, and they had poked Romeo at the wrong time. Both of us sleep-deprived at our edges and quick to snip at each other. Really, it was me sniping, snapping, and scratching at my husband. He got to go to work every day, and I was at home with the baby. When he came home and complained about someone talking back to him, resentment bubbled in my stomach.
At least he had someone to converse with.
My colleague communicated in screams that made my eardrums cry. Romeo met me at the stairs, alerted of my arrival by one of his guards. He waved a hand at the small group of them.
“Keep two on the warehouse entry, but I want the basement cleared. Understand? We are not to be disturbed.”
Romeo held out his hand and assisted me down the final, grated metal step like we were in a ballroom, dressed in finery. Instead, he had on a plain white tank top splattered with red dots of blood, black slacks cinched in on his waist by a black belt. The guards filed past me, tipping their heads with a deference I appreciated. Being The Gardener had been alluring for the secrecy, but there was something about seeing fear reflected in someone’s eyes when they avoided your direct gaze. Not that anyone knew who I was, but they all knew there was something more to me than the demure wife I’d tried to play for Romeo.
