Free (2012) Blood on Blood by Frank Zafiro Page A

kind of shit, right, Hero? Setting things up, taking care of the details and all that.”
    “Yeah, I was,” he snaps. “Speaking of that, Punk, I think that’s your poor mother and aunt whatever the fuck her name is, isn’t it?” He points over my shoulder, then turns and starts to walk away again.
    “So, tell me this, Mickey boy,” I call after him. “Sure, you’ll set it all up real nice, take care of everything for your little brother. But you gonna pay for it? Huh? You got any money for this? It ain’t cheap. Huh, chief? You got any money? Any money for anything ?”
    He looks back over his shoulder at me but keeps walking. “Naw, you got me beat there, Capone.”
    Before I could say something back at him, I hear her calling and she’s almost running to me.
    “Jerzy, ohhh my boy Jerzy…”
    She’s all crying and shit, wailing away with fat Aunt Alina waddling along behind her.
    “Ma, take it easy. Ma, c’mon now.”
    “Oh my beautiful boy, where is he? Where is Gar? Take me to him.”
    I look at Aunt Alina hard and shake my head.
    “I told you to hurry, Alina.”
    “We came right away, Jerzy, as quick as we could. But, well, we got a little lost.” She’s scared, looking at me with her painted on eyebrows all raised up high.
    It feels all wrong but I put my arm around my Ma anyway. She’s still crying and puts her trembling hands on each side of my face.
    “My Jerzy. My sweet, sweet boy.” She kisses me on both cheeks, then looks at me all weepy and plants some more kisses on me.
    “Ma…”
    “Take me to him, Jerzy.”
    “Ma…he’s gone. He died about an hour ago.”
     
    Ania helped me pick out this black suit I’m wearing and it’s a good thing. I hadn’t worn one in years and didn’t know the styles. When I asked her to come with me today she hadn’t even blinked. I’m still not sure why I asked her. Maybe I just wanted somebody else to sit next to me besides just Ma, who was a fucking mess like I knew she’d be. Maybe, just maybe, I really wanted Ania to be with me.
    Ania squeezes my hand and I look at her. At this kind of deal, you shouldn’t be thinking what I’m thinking…but damn.
    She’s wearing a conservative black dress, a simple gold crucifix necklace and toned down make-up. But damn . She could wear a potato sack and look hot. I look at her some more and swim around in those pale blue eyes for a second. I squeeze her hand back and rub my thumb slowly over hers.
    I swear she knows exactly what I’m thinking about. Knows what I’m thinking about, right here in front of God and everybody, if I could get away with it. Right here at my Dad’s funeral.
    Jesus. It’s hard to tear my eyes off of hers but I do it and try to think about something else.
    St. Anthony is like so many other Catholic churches in Chicago, a three story high ceiling with paintings and clouds up there. Stained glass wherever you look. Gold crosses and Latin. Jesus and Mary everywhere.
    I don’t belong here, never did. They use to have to push Mick to church, but with me it was even worse. It was more like dragging my little ass here.
    The priest is droning on about something and after we get up from kneeling again, I glance at Mick. He’s in the same pew but down on the other end and he’s staring right the fuck at me.
    He could be thinking about those diamond earrings that Dad had told us about. Tell you the truth, that’s about all I’ve been thinking about. Where in the hell were the damn things and how was I going to find them? The old man had been a bittersweet tricky bastard to the end. He told us both about them and that hadn’t been a mistake. Old Gar had always liked fucking with people and that included his two sons.
    Then again, Mick might not be looking at me at all. He might be checking out Ania. There is a big part of me that would enjoy the hell out of that. I could only hope he was looking at her and saying ‘what the fuck’? Be jealous like he should be. Have him wish for