Catherinelle by Diane Portman-Ray

 

 

22

 

We settled into our wicked ways. Hugo wasn’t pleased with the sneaking around; he kept saying that he wasn’t an adolescent or a traitor, but every day, he found a way for us to have our time together. He even found a safe hotel near my mother’s house for the weekends I spent there.

To be honest, all the secrecy was starting to be too much for me too. I had to come up with so many damn reasons to leave the house. If it would have been up to me, I would have come clean to Gino. What was the worst that could have happened? Hugo, on the other hand, said it loud and clear that this was an affair, and affairs needed to be kept buried. In the end, I had to agree that his way was best because even if my brother couldn’t divorce me, and no matter how mad he’d be, Gino would never hurt me. I didn’t have that guarantee when it came to Hugo. Now wasn’t the time, not when Gino was stressed with his own love life since Muse hadn’t decided the date of their wedding yet.

In three and a half months, I’d be eighteen, almost a graduate, and maybe ready in his eyes to make my own decisions. That was my deadline: three more months, and I could have Hugo by my side around the clock. Until then, I had to live on crumbs, and I was fucking starving.

With the holidays coming in a matter of days, it became harder and harder to have a few minutes alone with Hugo. The famiglia was busy, and Gino sent him away for a job. I expected it to be a short over-night trip, but it took him five days to come back home, and it was agonizing to have no clue what he was doing and not being able to ask anyone about it.

He came back on the 23rd late in the night, and I only found out because in the morning, he was waiting at the door to take Muse and I to do some shopping. My mother was always coming in town on Christmas Eve to do all the cooking, and she liked to have fresh ingredients. The entire morning, we roamed through the markets, and Hugo was there, carrying our bags. We barely exchanged a handful of words, and he restrained himself to monosyllabic answers. Muse and I were walking hand in hand, and he was behind us. I could feel his eyes fixed on me, and all I wanted was to turn around and kiss the hell out of him, but once again, I had to smolder my desire.

By noon, we arrived back at the Brooklyn townhouse, and while he was looking for something in the glove compartment, Muse led me to the trunk so we could start taking everything inside. Between us, we were able to grab all the bags in one trip, and Hugo caught up to us when we were in the foyer.

“Muse, let me give you a hand with that,” he said, passing by me like I wasn’t even there. I hated how good he was at pretending I hadn’t fallen asleep with his dick inside me a few times.

“It’s ok, Hugo; they’re not that heavy.”

“Come on,” he insisted, “let me carry them.”

“You’ve been on carrying duty all day. Thank you, but it’s Christmas Eve. Take some time off. Go find Gino in his office and have a drink.”

When he saw there was no way to convince her, he nodded and turned to head towards Gino’s downstairs office.

“Hello,” I couldn’t help myself and yelled after him while Muse was calling for the elevator, “I have bags too!”

First, he looked at Muse to check if her back was still turned to us, then smiled.

“Yeah, but you could use the exercise.”

“Jackass.”

He winked, and I stuck my tongue out in his direction. He was mocking me, but at least I knew he was in a playful mood. I wanted to use that to my advantage later.

When the elevator doors opened on the second floor, and we walked into the kitchen, I found my mother sipping wine with Flora Maria. When she saw us coming, her face lit up like the Christmas tree in the living room.

Simona Nucci was a remarkable woman. Philanthrope, socialite, but above all, mother to more children than she gave birth to. Me, all my cousins, Hugo, Roman, my brother, and now Muse, we were all under her protective hen wing. The widow and mother of a mafia boss, she never got to spoil the men in her life like she’d have liked to. God knew Gino loved his mama, but he’d never let her get too involved in his life.

“Ah, the girls are home. All my children under one roof, just like when you were little.”

She loved to have us all under her eye.

“Mom, we’re under the same roof most of the time.”

“Catherinelle, this is the first Christmas Muse spends with us,” she admonished me. “Please, let’s show her the warm embrace of the family.”

This was Muse’s first year without her brother. My mom didn’t say it, but I knew she had that in mind. For Muse, it was the hardest of the holidays.

“I embrace her every day, mother. Hey, here’s an idea. Since everyone is coming around for dinner tomorrow, maybe we can find her a boyfriend that actually deserves her.” I shrugged, joking.

My mother laughed, and Muse pinched my arm with a smile on her face.

“I’m fine with your brother, Catherinelle. Thank you.”

“But you could do so much better!” I cried, and that was when Gino and his two acolytes walked in.

Gino was in sweatpants and a shirt since he hadn’t left the house all day. Behind him, Roman was in one of his dashing suits, his chestnut hair a stylish mess. Roman was a handsome man; he could steal the eyes of everyone in the room, but not mine. My eyes shifted to the shadow behind him.

It had only been minutes since last I saw Hugo, but my heart started beating faster, and my chest expanded. He was in the background watching over the room. The tight long sleeve shirt he wore stretched over his muscles, and his rugged worn-out jeans made him look even more delicious than usual. When he finally looked up in my direction and our eyes met, I felt pulled to him like metal to a giant magnet, and I had to clutch the countertop to keep my legs from walking his way.

Gino’s voice brought me out of my trance.

“What could Muse do better?” He was looking at me, and for a second, I wondered if he caught the silent exchange between Hugo and I, but he was too distracted with his own girl.

“Hmm? Oh, I was just telling her that she could find a better man for herself. You know she’s out of your league, right?”

Roman’s laughter boomed into the room, but Gino didn’t love my joke.

“Shut up, Cat,” he growled at me and then turned to mom. “Mother, you don’t need to spend that much time in the kitchen again. We can cater.”

“Gino Nucci, I will not eat re-heated food on Christmas day!” she admonished. “Now, Flora Maria made some broth ravioli for tonight, and we’ll have dinner after I’m done prepping everything for tomorrow. I expect to see you menaces at the dinner table.”

Mom pointed at Gino, Roman and Hugo with a steely look on her face. She wasn’t about to hear any excuses.

“Bella Simonetta,” Roman tried, “I might be kept at one of the clubs tonight to…”

“Roman Costa, I don’t want to hear it. Business can wait till after Christmas. I will have all my children around the table on Christmas Eve.”

Out of nowhere, Hugo stepped in the conversation.

“I can take care of business, Roman. You stay here, and I’ll go manage whatever it is you’re worried about.” This got on my mom’s last nerve. She grabbed a wooden spoon from the utensil drawer and slapped Hugo on the arm.

Roman, Gino, Muse and even Flora Maria laughed while Hugo looked at her like she had grown a second head.

“Wasn’t I clear enough, Hugo Mustafa?” Mother asked.

“Ma’am?”

“Tutti i miei bambini – all my children – at the dinner table. If Roman can’t be excused because he has a different last name, neither can you. Also, I expect you here tomorrow morning. I’m taking all of you to mass. God knows you need it.”

“Yes ma’am.” He gave up, and I was grateful mom brought out the spoon. At least he was close, even if I couldn’t touch him.

Pleased with herself, mom turned to Gino, not ready to finish her rant.

“It’s bad enough your grandfather is not coming this year.”

Nonno passed on the holiday trip, deciding to celebrate Natale with his brother and some friends in his Napoli villa instead. He wasn’t a fan of flying for so long, and in the past years, his visits started to become further apart.

“I can’t believe nonno is not coming,” I said. “He’d better send me a gift.” My grandfather was the best at giving gifts…to me. Last year, he sent me and mom on a five-star cruise around the Caribbean. I couldn’t wait to see how he planned to top that.

“I tried to convince him, dear,” Mother told me. “He is a stubborn man. He doesn’t want to make the trip so soon after he was here a few months ago for his birthday party.”

“His birthday party was in September,” I insisted. I considered calling the old man to give him a lecture. I missed him a great deal since he moved to Italy a few years back.

“Yes, but he thinks it is better like this since he might need to come to New York again, maybe in the summer.” Mom paused for dramatic effect. “In case we have a family event.”

Subtle, mom.

Muse blushed because we all knew mom was talking about her wedding with my brother. Gino was on edge too. If it was up to him, they’d go to church and tie the knot tomorrow, but he couldn’t push since Muse was still in mourning after Enzo.

I looked at Muse while she took a deep breath and smiled.

“Maybe August,” she said in a low voice, but it was enough to silence everybody in the room.

Gino looked at her with round, glassy eyes.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I mean…we need to set a date. We can figure out the details after the holidays, but I always thought August weddings are nice. If you want to do something else…”

“No,” he said back right away. “August is fine. Perfect.”

Roman cheered while I skipped across kitchen to give Muse a hug, and my mother sighed with a fulfilled look on her face. Flora Maria materialized next to us with a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge. This called for a toast.

While sipping on the bubbly, crisp drink, I stepped back and looked at mom, Gino, and Roman overwhelming Muse with questions. Hugo stepped away and came to sit next to me behind the kitchen island. His closeness sent chills down my back.

“Looks like Muse gave the boss an early Christmas present.”

“Yeah.” I smiled at him. “Are you really going to church tomorrow?”

Hugo was many things, but religious was not one of them.

“Looks like I am.”

I smirked in my champagne glass.

“You’re not even catholic.” He was christened as an orthodox, not that he cared.

“Are you going to tell your mother that? Because I’m not looking to be slapped with the spoon again.”

“Well, it will be fun.” I looked away so he couldn’t see the devilish smile I had on. “You’ll see.”

 

~~~

 

On Christmas morning, St. Patrick’s was crowded with worshippers. Even if it was right here in New York City, I rarely came here. Mother was very persuasive about seeing Gino and I in church every weekend, but this congregation was very different than the suburban community of Great Neck. Here, under the tall, white arches covering us like a gothic umbrella, the cream of New York gathered to witness the service. It had more to do with the social obligation than celebrating the birth of our Lord and Savior.

Mother, Lola, Muse and Aunt Patty, all dressed in beautiful white dresses, took their places in the front pew, while Gino and Roman stayed behind to shake hands with some suits that I was pretty sure were city officials. They whispered something to each other, and one of them pointed to the other side of the nave where the mayor and his wife were exchanging pleasantries with another elderly couple. The mayor nodded to my brother discreetly, then shifted his gaze away. Of course, he would never publicly associate with the Nucci family, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know us. Oh, New York, you beautiful, corrupt city.

My Uncle Pepe, Frank Sr, Vincenzo and the twins were laughing about one of the statues in the nativity scene, and I prayed to God mom didn’t hear them. I was waiting in the central aisle for them to sit down so I could find my own place, and Bianca was on my right, looking across the pew, where Hugo was shifting uncomfortably from one leg to another.

“Stop looking at him,” I hissed in her ear.

“I’m not looking at him.”

“Yes, you are. Stop. You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

“Calm down, Cat. No one is paying attention anyways.”

“Hugo is. He already threw a fit when he found out I told you about us.” I looked at him again and this time found him watching me with a hawk’s eye. “Go find your seat.”

I made my way through the sea of people to get to Hugo, and he greeted me with a deep frown. As usual.

“Are you gossiping with Bianca about me?”

“Of course not. We’re in church, Monster, and gossip is a sin. Can’t find your place?”

He looked up at the altar and then back at me.

“My place is nowhere near God, princess.”

Maybe not, but his place was near me.

People started to take their places, and I moved quickly to my mom’s side, tapping her on the shoulder.

“Yes, dear.”

“I’ll sit in the back with Hugo.”

“Sure, dear. Make sure he pays attention.”

“Will do.” Hugo looked at me the entire time, trying to figure out what I was doing. “Come on, Monster, let’s get a seat in the back. The chorus is about to start.”

“You should stay with your family.”

“You are part of the family, jackass.”

When he didn’t move, I started pushing him to the end of the nave and stuffed his huge body in the back pew, where only a couple of elderlies were seated, and they were too preoccupied reading a prayer book to pay any attention to us.

“Feeling better here?” I asked with a smile.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Isn’t this church beautiful?”

He looked around him for the first time, studying the ceiling of the nave, the tall columns of white marble and the details in the stained glass. A shred of admiration settled on his face.

“It’s a nice building, yes.”

“I’m glad mom chose to come here instead of that small church near the Brooklyn house. I’ve only been to St. Patrick’s a couple of times, but I think it’s my favorite.”

Hugo gave me a side look.

“You have strong feelings about this church, huh?”

“I’m Italian-catholic. I have strong feelings for all churches, but yeah. I like Gothic Revival architecture. Maybe Gino should think about getting married here.” He shifted uncomfortably when I brought up the wedding.

I wanted to ask what was wrong, but the sweet sound of the choir plunged into the words of a Christmas carol, cutting me off. To my surprise, Hugo was very drawn in by what was happening, and a peaceful grimace touched his features. The moments when he was like this, content and not haunted by his demons, were rare and far between, and while everyone in the church was looking at the choir, I was looking at him. I memorized the way his forehead smoothed out when that persistent frown disappeared and how his shoulders settled down without the tension.

Unconsciously, I put my hand on his leg, and I regretted it when he snapped out of his tranquility and looked at me.

“It’s good to see you relaxed, Monster.”

“Then put your hand away. It’s not helping.”

Oh, really? A few words thrown my way was all it took for my mind to wander to a very blasphemic place. Looking around to check that everyone was too caught up in their own thing, I anchored my nails in his thigh and watched his body stiffen up.

“Cat,” he warned.

“What?” I fluttered my lashes at him like an innocent damsel. “I miss touching you. It’s been so long.”

“Catherinelle, your mother is right in front of you, and you are in church.”

“Exactly,” I whispered back. “I can’t lie in the house of God. I miss you.”

“I…” Hugo shook his head, looking defeated. “Me too.”

“Hug me.”

He sneaked his arm around my waist, careful to not be seen if someone was looking our way. From the outside, anyone would have just seen me leaning on his shoulder and listening to service. With every breath he took in, I could feel his chest rising up and down, and the most uplifting feeling washed over. I didn’t remember ever being so happy on Christmas, not even when dad bought me a pony when I was seven, not even six years ago when Gino was acquitted of his gun trafficking charges.

The entire day faded in a mist of beatitude. Even if I couldn’t be with Hugo the way I wanted, he was there. After church, mom rushed us home to feed us lunch and then we had carolers coming over, a group of local children that went home with all the cash in Gino’s pockets and huge baskets of sweets that my mother wrapped for them.

After lunch, the guys started a game of pool that got serious really fast when Roman bet his Ferrari Berlinetta. Mom and Muse were in the kitchen, ready to fire dinner, but I was mesmerized by Hugo stretching over the pool table like a lion ready to strike. The two other men turned to shadows in the background. I could have stayed there and watched him forever if mom wouldn’t have needed help to fold the Cassatelle di Agiara, and I couldn’t say no because they were my favorite sweets.