As requested, here is Chapter Two. This might be it for a while as life is pretty busy right now. Hope you like it.

Chapter Two

Calogero's father didn't speak to him all week. When Calogero walked into a room, Lorenzo walked out. At dinner, Lorenzo ate in his armchair and refused to eat at the table. At first, Calogero felt bad he'd upset his father, but by Saturday night, he'd had enough.

"Come sit with us, Lorenzo," Calogero's mother coaxed. "Tell us how your day was."

"My day was fine." He didn't look up at her or his son. His wife gave Calogero a pained apologetic smile and after four days of keeping his mouth shut, Calogero lost it.

He tossed down his knife and fork.

"What the hell is your problem?"

Lorenzo turned his head slowly.

"You talking to me, Son?"

"I don't see anybody else sulking like a kid. You're so disgusted you don't even want to eat with me now?"

His father put his plate down on the edge of the armchair and stood up. He was a few pounds overweight and he was shorter than Calogero but he was still a force to be reckoned with. Lorenzo Annello had never been a violent man but he didn't take any shit either. Not even from Sonny, who had been the most feared man in the neighbourhood.

"You think you're old enough to ignore my decisions and then blatantly disrespect me in my own house?"

Calogero bit back the comment that always arose when his father spoke about 'his house'. It wasn't a house, it was a pokey five room apartment. Living area, kitchen, two tiny bedrooms and one bathroom. It was pretty far from a 'house'.

"You're not being fair. Jane makes me happy. Don't you want me to be happy?"

"Of course I want you to be happy. But I don't see why you can't be happy with an Italian girl. What about Rachel Dimarco down the block? She's always asking about you when I see her on the bus. Did you know her father's from the-"

"-same village in Sicily as you. I get it, Dad. You told me a hundred times. I don't like Rachel like that."

He didn't add that Rachel Dimarco was considered easier than a hot knife piercing butter. Really, that wasn't the point. It was Jane he wanted to be with.

"Can we just eat dinner in peace, please?" Calogero's mother asked. "Lorenzo, come on, sit down."

"I'll stand if I want," Lorenzo barked, striding across the room to the table. "Suddenly everyone in here thinks they're the boss. Let me tell you something. I pay the bills. That makes me the boss. You hear me? I'm the boss in this house!"

"Quit yelling at her!" Calogero shoved back his chair and got to his feet. He could feel his heart pounding furiously in his chest and he clenched and unclenched his fists as he and his father stood face to face.

"It's okay, Calogero," his mother said urgently. "Please, let's stop this."

"It's not me who won't stop it! He's been banging around the apartment all week and for what? Because he's prejudice and doesn't have the balls to admit it!"

"Don't you dare say that to me! I am not prejudice. I get along with every one on the bus!"

"That's a crock of shit," Calogero scoffed. "You tolerate them. You don't get along. Jane has got more class in her little finger than Rachel Dimarco has in her whole body but you still don't want me with her because of her color."

"She's not for you, Calogero!" He could feel his father's hot breath on his face, could see the agitation in his expression and wanted to shake him for it.

"You know why I miss Sonny? 'Cause he understood things you don't, Dad. He'd seen life outside of a 9-5 job in one neighbourhood. He'd met all kinds of people and judged them on who they were not where they were from."

"And look where it got him. A spot down at Saint Raymond's cemetery!"

Calogero heard his mother suck in her breath. For a blinded second, he almost took a swing at his father. But then he remembered who he was, and where they were.

Lorenzo sighed heavily.

"I didn't mean to say that, Calogero. I just want you to understand-"

"Understand what? That you'd have me drop the girl I love because you don't like the color of her skin?"

His father became suddenly enraged.

"Love? You love this girl? So what next? We gonna see a wedding and a load of brown babies who can't walk in either neighbourhood?"

"Oh for God's sake." Calogero waved his father's comment away in a typical Italian gesture.

His father only got louder, shaking his finger like an elderly school teacher.

"Don't you blaspheme in this house! You hear me? You don't take the Lord's name in vain!"

"Give me a break. We go to church every week and listen to Father Roberto preach about tolerance. Where's your tolerance, Dad? Or is that just for the bus?"

"Calogero, stop it," his mother pleaded. She put her head in her hands and Calogero was just feeling bad enough to back down when Lorenzo spoke again.

"I can't believe you'd shout and argue with me over an outsider. You disobey me and upset your mother over a damn Spook!"

Calogero was tackling his father before he knew what had happened. This took both of them by surprise and as they thudded onto the floor, Calogero seemed to realised what he was doing. He didn't swing a punch or try to attack Lorenzo but that didn't matter. His father shoved him away and landed a hard blow in his stomach.

"Lorenzo!" Calogero's mother screamed. She was crying now, hysterical almost.

Calogero had the breath knocked out of him. His father had never really punched him before. A couple of controlled slaps when he'd gotten fresh as a kid but never a closed fist. Tonight was a night of firsts though because he'd never attacked his dad either.

"You stay away from that girl, you hear me?" His father was on his feet now. He'd left Calogero sitting on the floor clutching his stomach. His mother rushed over and squatted beside him, wrapping her frail arm about his shoulders.

"Are you okay, Calogero? Lorenzo, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I don't want him fighting everybody for the rest of his life. I'm thinking that I don't want my grandchildren being kicked to death in the school yard. Does that make me such a bad person? Why can't you back me up on this, Rosita?"

Calogero stood up, shaking off his mother's arm.

"You won't stop me seeing her. You hear me? Nobody will stop me." He was still gasping for air but he meant every word.

"Well, if that's the case, get the hell out of my house! Go and live down Webster Avenue. See how welcome you are down there!"

"Lorenzo!" Rosita gasped.

"You don't want me here, I'm gone," Calogero spat. "I swear to God, I'll do anything not to turn out like you and if that means not being around you, then so be it."

"No, stop it, Calogero-"

Calogero grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and gave his mother a contrite look.

"I'm sorry, Mom."

He kissed her wet cheek briefly, disentangling himself when she wouldn't let go of him. Then he left the apartment.

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