September 1932
"My little Luisa," my mother purred, running her soft fingers through my unruly bangs. I grinned up at her, the hot midday sunlight pouring through the window, illuminating her youthful but tired eyes. Her strong cheekbones shadowed her cheeks, amplifying her beauty.
We were in my zia Carmine's apartment, New York City bustling softly outside. Carmine wasn't my real aunt, but a childhood friend of my mother's from her time growing up in Palermo, Sicily. It was a bigger apartment than most in New York, thanks to my father, who assured my mother he'd take care of all her friends. Carmine was my favorite of my parents' friends-she loved art, like my father and I, though even herself admitted that she could not create any of her own. My mother visited her frequently and I was always ecstatic to go with her.
In the bedroom down the hall, the phone rang loudly. My mother turned her head instinctively towards the noise, her brows twitching as she watched the bedroom door open, Carmine stepping out. She had a lovely face, her skin tanned dark from the Mediterranean sun. She held the ivory-colored phone handle in her hand.
"It's Augustu," she said, and my mother nodded and stood, releasing me. Augustu was our family's consigliere even then, as he was my father's trusted advisor for many years. My mother's small feet creaked the wood floors before she disappeared into the bedroom.
"Right now?" I heard her ask. "Can't this wait? I just got here this morning... Yes, Luisa's with me... Okay, we won't... Tell Tony we'll be there soon." The receiver clicked. I stood, heading to the bedroom when my mother stepped out with serious eyes. I couldn't tell how she was feeling.
"Time to go home, little Luisa," she told me, managing a smile. I guessed as much, but I was sad to leave so soon. I loved staying with Carmine.
Carmine made us prosciutto sandwiches as we waited for our driver to pick us up. My mother gathered our things as I ate, and before I knew it, there was a quiet knock on the door. It was Gambino, one of my father's most trusted and experienced bodyguards. My mother furrowed her brows when seeing him.
"Where's Romano?" she asked Gambino, confusion in her voice. Romano was my mother's main bodyguard, and I had never seen another guard with her. Gambino kept his face impassive.
"Don Vitale sent me, signora. The car's downstairs. Please, we must be going," he said vaguely. My mother raised a brow but didn't say anything else. We said a quick goodbye to Carmine and headed down the stairs. My mother took my hand as Gambino briskly hurried us down the stairs.
Gambino stepped out of the building first, glancing around the area before opening the door for us. On the curb, our car was waiting. In a split second, in front of me, I saw Gambino's hand fly towards the inside of his coat. Next to me, my mother gasped sharply. I didn't have time to look in their direction before simultaneously, a deafening pop exploded through the air, and something warm and wet splattered all over me. I barely had time to register my mother's shriek.
"Run!" she screamed, shoving me away from her. I managed to open my eyes, stumbling back from her. Gambino's body laid on the street, the left side of his skull open and gushing blood in waves. More deafening pops ripped through the air and my mother's arms jerked violently. Terror shot through me like a lightning bolt as I willed my feet to run, sprinting as fast as I could down the block. Everyone around me was running and screaming, and I had to push past shocked onlookers to disappear down the avenue. I ran as fast as I could for as long as I could, not daring to look back, just praying that my mother was close by, running with me. My lungs burned as my legs, turned to jelly from running, weakened and I needed to catch my breath. I was in the middle of a crowded plaza when I finally looked around for my mother.
I turned in circles, my eyes searching desperately for my mama, more lightning bolts of fear pulsing through me. I could hear myself hyperventilating, listening intently for my mother's voice calling me.
"MAMA!" I cried, "MAMA!"
Strangers stared at me with shocked, wide eyes. I felt hot tears rolling down my face as something red on my arm caught my eye.
Blood. Little chunks of gooey matter, varying in size, littered my arms. As I looked down at my once-white dress, I realized that my face and chest were soaked. My lip shook as I frantically wiped my cheeks, my heart hammering in my chest. The dark fluid smeared on my fingers.
"Hey, are you-" someone started to say, a hand touching my shoulder. My heart jumped as I whipped around, a tall police officer looking down at me. He gasped when he saw me.
"What happened to you?" he asked me, crouching down to be on my level. I backed away from him, my eyes widening. I had always been told never to speak to the police, no matter what. They weren't to be trusted; my father was too important. I didn't say anything.
"What's your name?" I shook my head, keeping my mouth shut. He furrowed his brows, taking my limp hand in his.
"You're going to be okay," he told me. "I'm taking you somewhere safe."
I knew I didn't want to go with him, but I couldn't will myself to resist. I kept searching for my mother, praying she'd see me and take me away from the officer.
It was a short walk. He led me to a bright building full of other officers, who also stared in horror at my blood-soaked body. He sat me down in a quiet space at the end of the huge office, in a chair next to a desk crowded with papers. A dark-gray, wooly blanket was draped over my shoulders.
The officer asked me more questions, but I kept my mouth shut, hoping he'd think I didn't know how to talk. When another older cop came up to him to see what the deal was with the bloody child, he just shook his head and said defeatedly, "I don't know, boss. She won't talk."
The older cop eyed me with sympathy. He sighed heavily.
"I think I know what happened," he said quietly to his inferior. I listened closely, looking away. "Shots fired on Amsterdam ten minutes ago. She probably got too close walking by, got separated from her parents in the commotion. Someone'll come for her eventually."
The younger cop nodded, looking back at me sadly. I stared at my shoes; I prayed my mother would realize I was picked up by a cop and come looking for me.
Hours went by. Some other strangers took me to the bathroom to get cleaned up, though nothing could be done about my ruined dress. I sat in the chair by the desk, my knees tucked to my chest, staring at the door. Someone would come for me, someone had to. I waited and waited and waited.
When I spotted Stefano and Sonny hurry through the doorway, relief crashed into me like a wave. I gasped sharply, standing and running towards them. When they spotted me, they seemed just as relieved as I was. Tearfully, they leaned down and embraced me together, "Thank god," and "There you are," falling from their lips.
"We thought they took you," Sonny sighed into my shoulder, holding me tightly in his bulky arms. I didn't understand what he meant by that.
Stefano picked me up, wrapping me protectively in his arms and hurrying to the car outside. It wasn't until we already climbed in that I noticed the tears on his cheeks.
"Where's Mama?" I begged to know, the car pulling away from the corner and speeding down the street. Stefano blinked at me as if he had never expected me to ask that question. He glanced at Sonny, sitting on the other side of me, then looked back at me.
"She let go of my hand," I told him, "I lost her when we were running..."
He looked down. His thick curls shadowed his face. I turned to Sonny, feeling my eyes fill with tears again.
"Where's Mama?" I asked Sonny, who touched my shoulder gently. I didn't understand why no one would tell me.
"She's..." he started, glancing back at Stefano. "She's not here anymore."
I blinked at him.
"Where is she?"
He swallowed, pursing his lips. I still didn't understand.
"You know about heaven, don't you, fragolina?" he asked me softly. I nodded slowly, confused. Heaven was for people who were...
His eyes were so sad. So anguished and so sad.
I turned away, staring forward. Stefano wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close to him. I could feel his hot tears soaking a patch of my hair.
When we pulled into the neighborhood, I spotted a trail of dark, thick smoke in the sky immediately. I stared at it as the driver turned the corner before shrieking to a stop. Sonny and Stefano spotted the smoke and soon, the source of it. Fifty feet down the road from my house, a fireball had consumed a car. The roof was blown off, debris sprinkled throughout the street. What was left of the vehicle was blackened and charred.
"That's Papa's car," Stefano breathed, throwing open the door. I stepped out, gasping for breath, the air thick with the smell of smoke. Stefano stared in horror at the scene before bolting into the house. Sonny touched my arm and picked me up, supporting my back with his giant arms. As he hurried away from the burnt vehicle and towards the Corleone house, I stared at the car over his shoulder. There were what could only be two blackened bodies still in the seats.