Whenever Sonny and Tom were in a fight, it completely threw off the dynamic of the Corleone household. Usually, the two were partners in crime, or at least a criminal and his lawyer, but when the two weren't speaking, everyone felt anxious, there was an unspoken tenseness in the air that permeated all actions in the house. Michael, a thinking person, felt this tenseness most acutely. He was very close to the two of them, and when they didn't speak, it put him in an awkward position.
This time, it was winter break, in 1940. Michael was home from college, and studying for post-break exams in his bedroom. Typically, he would quickly become absorbed in the words, and be lost to his family for at least two hours. Right now, however, he could not focus on his notes. Something was off in the air, something was wrong. Shoving away from his desk, he stood and opened the door, looking out into the hallway, to see if some disturbance was causing his lack of attention. When he saw nothing, he decided to go into the kitchen and get a glass of water, taking a break from trying to study for the moment.
When he entered the kitchen, he was greeted with the sight of Sonny pouring himself some wine with a sour expression on his face. Tom leaned against the refrigerator with his arms crossed, his forehead glistening with sweat despite the frigid temperature of the house. Sonny gulped the wine with his back deliberately turned away from Tom, and his dark eyes settled on Michael.
"Whadda you want?" He asked, anger tinging his voice. Inspecting the faces of his two brothers, Michael caught on at once. They had gotten into a fight. That explained why he couldn't study. As long as Michael could remember, whenever Sonny and Tom fought, the entire house was affected. Nobody could work, nobody could eat, everyone sat on the edge of their seats waiting for the storm to pass.
"Water." Michael replied lightly, and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. He turned on the sink and let the water get cold, as he looked at Sonny and Tom. He knew better than to ask Sonny what the problem was, so he resolved to corner Tom when he got the chance. If Michael had learned anything from his classes at school, there were few situations that couldn't be solved with diplomacy and compromise. However, Sonny wasn't really the diplomatic type, nor was he ready to compromise on anything. That was Tom's department, and the reason he was lined up to be consigliere once Genco Abbandando died. Perhaps Michael should just leave it alone…
"Hey Mikey, can I talk to you for a second?" Tom's voice shook Michael out of his reverie and he looked up at the sound of it.
"Yeah, sure Tom." He filled his glass with water, turned the faucet off, and left the room without meeting Sonny's eyes. He could feel the heat radiating off his brother like a boiler about to burst, and did not want to be the one to set him off. He heard Sonny smack the table hard from the hallway, but didn't comment. His attention was completely focused on Tom, who stood with his shoulders slightly hunched, and his hands shoved in his pockets, a sign of nervousness.
"What happened this time?" Michael asked, giving Tom a sympathetic look. Everybody in the house knew that 9 times out of 10, Sonny has caused the problem by doing something stupid, and Tom tried to reprimand him on it, so Sonny lashed out.
"He's cheating on Sandra." Tom said softly, inclining his head around Mike's shoulder to see if Sonny was listening. Evidently he wasn't, because Tom's body relaxed visibly a second later. Michael sighed, and closed his eyes.
"You caught him?" He asked and Tom nodded solemnly. "And you told him not to?"
"I told him it was wrong, that Sandra is a lovely woman and he should never have gotten married if he wasn't in it for the long run." Michael let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and shook his head.
"I don't know what's worse, him cheating again, or you being stupid enough to tell him off for it." Tom raised his eyebrows in shock.
"Me? My stupidity? What's wrong with me, I'm trying to make him do the right thing!?"
"And since when has Sonny done the right thing?" Tom gave a wry grin.
"Point taken." Michael leaned against the wall.
"So there's nothing I could say that would diffuse this?" Tom sighed.
"Unless you're willing to condone cheating." Michael stood straight and walked back towards the kitchen. "You're going to talk to him?"
"I'm going to put my glass in the sink. If you two have a problem, you're going to have to deal with it on your own." When he reached, the kitchen, Sonny had a pained look on his face, almost regretful. If Michael hadn't known better, he would have thought it was shame that his younger brother had been told of his shortcomings. But Michael did known better, and took his facial expression to be nothing more than anger that Tom would reveal something so private.
"Mike." Michael didn't look at him, just stood in front of the window with his back faced away from his brother. "Mike I'm sorry you had to hear that. Believe me, I'll give him hell for telling you that. He doesn't even know what a favor we did, taking him in here! He thinks that because pop adopted him that he can tell me what to do! And you too." Michael turned around and faced his brother.
"It's your life Sonny. Hurt who you want, do what you want. I certainly can't tell you otherwise." Sonny seemed to take that statement to heart, as his expression softened. This time, Michael didn't mistake the shame on his face, and felt an odd sense of gratification from it. He walked back into his bedroom and tried to study again.
Two hours later, the family was seated around the table for dinner. The don sat on one end, mama sat on the other, Connie, Fredo, and Tom were on one side, while Michael and Sonny were on other. Sonny and Tom glared venomously at each other. Everyone passed the plates of food around, taking what they wanted, but there was complete silence. Even Fredo seemed to understand that this was not the right time to speak.
"Is everything alright?" Mama asked, looking at Sonny and Tom, though not directly stating them.
"Fine." Both replied at the same time and their glares deepened, as if angered that they had thought the same thing. Michael desperately wanted to smack them both, tell them to get it together and stop torturing everybody with their indifference and tension. But he couldn't. It wasn't who he was. Michael Corleone had always been the one who watched from the sidelines, waited to see how things played out, waited to snatch an opportunity from the ashes. But he couldn't see opportunity here. Here he saw frustration, two brothers who loved each other, but didn't understand each other.
"Sonny, aren't you hungry?" Mama was concerned since Sonny pushed his meatballs around the plated rather than his usual ravenous eating.
"No, I'm pretty sure he ate before he sat down." Tom stated calmly, giving Sonny as smug look. Michael clenched his fork tightly in his hand, because he knew Tom had gone too far this time. In anger, Sonny jumped up from the table, shoved his chair back with his foot, and in the process, knocked all the food on the table over and caused all the glasses to spill. Michael got pasta all over his new slacks, Tom's shirt was drenched in iced tea, and everyone else had some sort of dinner on them.
"Sonny!" Exclaimed Connie at the large red stain on her white dress. Fredo stared down at his pants in confusion, while Mama cried softly, and pop sat stony faced. Again, the situation was too much. At the exact same time, Sonny and Tom broke out into uproarious laughter, Sonny collapsing onto his chair. Michael shook his head, though he couldn't stop the small smile that curled across his face as Tom walked around the table and embraced Sonny closely. Rolling his eyes, he stood, patted pop on the shoulder, and went into the bathroom to change. Maybe he could get some studying done now.