Chapter 8: The same day; London, England.

Tuesday, late afternoon. November 25th.

The evening was drawing in as Marco stood at his grandparent's graves. They were laid side by side with matching white marble headstones with their pictures encased in small oval frames. Marco laid some flowers in a vase that sat between them. His eyes watered up as he looked at the faces inside the oval frames. There hadn't been a day that went by where he wished he could speak to them one more time. Marco looked up at the sky, which was a mixture of a yellow, orange, and red sunset to the right, with black clouds to the left. The day had certainly been an emotional one. Especially with the news he'd received earlier. However, the news didn't come without dealing with the inevitable task of informing his mum, which had been met with her dismissive attitude.

Marco had to go by his old house because he found out the college had sent his exam results there by default. The visit had not gone well; Once again, Billy Foreman was on the scene. Marco was told to wait outside by his mum while she fetched the post. Billy Foreman stood at the front door like a disgruntled bouncer outside a nightclub with his arms folded. He regarded the lad with a mixture of anxiety and discontent. Despite his taller stature, the man remembered the humiliation he suffered after bullying Marco to the point where he was met with a stiff punch to the face, knocking him senseless and ending his rule over the lad. Marco kept his distance while meeting Billy with the same stern stare.

When Tracey reappeared with the post, Billy walked back indoors. The stare between them was also cold. Marco shot a disgruntled look at his mum when he saw that his letters had already been opened.

"Why have all these been opened?" Marco asked.

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" Tracey snapped.

"What?"

"The Apprenticeship you've applied for? Oh yeah… it's all there." Tracey scowled.

Marco looked down and hurryingly pulled out the first letter. It was a letter from UCAS confirming an interview date for the chef apprenticeship. Friday 28th November. He couldn't believe it. He only had 2 days to get there…. "But that must mean…" He held the thought as he opened the second letter which contained his GCSE results. True enough; his hard work had paid off. English, Maths and History; 2 A's and 1 B. Marco's face contorted with shock and elation. The results were exactly what he needed. Marco felt ecstatic. He couldn't wait to tell Orla, and James and the other. But as he looked up, he regarded the scowl on his mum's face. Her contempt was so deep, that she couldn't even congratulate him.

"So what? You knew this and you don't feel anything?" Marco asked.

"Don't tell me how to feel." Tracey scowled.

"What the hell is your problem, Mum? Is it because it hurts you that I don't trust you all the sudden?" Marco asked.

"Don't you talk to me like that! I'm your mum, I'm entitled to know these things. Especially when I see my own son is looking to move to Northern Ireland of all places!"

"Mum, I don't want to fight with you."

"Just go! OK? You've made it clear that you don't trust me. You obviously didn't consider ME when it came to the will OR this… thing you've applied for. You clearly don't need my approval so just go! Go and don't bother to come back!"

"You always have to make it all about you, Mum. Don't you? Why?" Marco pleaded for an answer.

"Good luck in Northern Ireland." Tracey slammed the door shut.

The coldness Tracey had shown had cut through Marco as much as the cold weather as he knelt to lay the flowers. He then remembered the next stop he made that day. An emotional farewell to Antonio and the staff at the restaurant. It would have been so much better if Marco had known of the letter a week sooner; he would have more time to work a notice, but Antonio understood and wished him the best, and made Marco promise to stay in touch. Alfonso offered Marco a room at his house before he left, which he was more than happy to accept. The safe house had recently had some new additions move in, who weren't the best of company. The smell of weed wafting throughout the corridors was certainly a smell he could do without.

"Those look nice." Marco turned to see his dad, Tony standing at the gravesite.

"…. Dad?"

"I heard you got what you wanted." Tony said.

"…. Yeah?"

"Have you got some time to talk?" Tony asked. Marco nodded. "How about the pub around the corner?" Tony asked.

"OK." Marco agreed.

The pub was warm and busy with regulars as Tony walked over with a pint of bitter for himself, and a Lager shandy for Marco, who was laying off any drink since his drunken stupor with the wine from a few weeks ago. "Michelle would have a field day if she knew." Marco thought as he sipped.

"Not the best thing to do when you're training, right?" Tony asked as he sat down, Marco smirked in agreement.

"It's gonna be bit of a culture shock when you're over there."

"Well, I've already been over there. So, I'm kind of prepared." Marco replied.

"Oh. Oh good. Your Mum never mentioned that. So…. What's her name?"

"Her name's Orla." Marco said. He then pulled the polaroid from his pocket and showed Tony, pointing out Orla, Tony smiled at the pulled faces.

"Looks like a nice girl." Tony said. Marco smiled as he nodded.

"So, you're gonna be studing in Londonderry?" Tony asked.

"Actually; It's Strabane Dad. It's near though." Marco said.

"Ah, well, your Mum was a bit sketchy." Tony said.

"I'm amazed that you still help her, Dad. After…. everything."

"Are you really?" Tony asked gently.

"No, I guess not. Everyone always said you had the patience of a Saint." Marco said.

"Maybe we're a lot more alike than we thought." Tony quipped.

Marco didn't respond to that quip. He looked down and searched for the gumption to ask Tony the next question, who seemed to be prepared.

"…. Who was he, Dad? Did you know him?" Marco asked.

"Of all questions. I've… feared this the most."

"Y- You did know him?" Marco asked, Tony pulled an old photo from his pocket.

"He was… known to me." Tony answered, almost a whisper.

Marco took the crinkled photograph and saw the image of his parents from many years ago. He frowned sadly, his lips quivered as he took in what he saw; another man standing with them; practically a mirror image of himself, but older. Marco looked up at Tony who couldn't look at him. Marco choked back his tears, and his anger. He dropped the picture onto the table and curled his hand into a fist and rested his face upon it.

"His name was Roberto Silvani. Your mum wanted to name you after him. It was a… one night thing, at least that's what your mum said. But I soon found out they'd been together more than once-" Tony revealed.

"PLEASE NO! I don't wanna hear this, Da-... Why are you telling me this?" Marco asked, his face now contorted with anger.

"Because you deserve to know the truth, Marco." Tony answered.

"Did he know?" Marco asked, short of breath.

"…. Yes. He knew." Tony admitted.

"What did he do?"

"Not much."

"He didn't want anything to do with me, did he?" Marco asked.

"Hard to say."

"What do you mean- hard to say? Where is he now?" Marco asked. His voice cracked.

"Marco… Roberto died before you were born." Tony said.

Marco choked back again but couldn't stop the tears from flowing. He couldn't understand why he was shedding tears for someone who he never knew, let alone meet.

"How?"

"It was a car accident. He was drunk at the wheel. That was… one of his many problems." Tony said.

Marco's stare was distant.

"It doesn't justify her behaviour, but it might make more sense to you why your Mum is the way that she is. I guess, she harbours some guilt for what happened. Or grief for what happened to him, I don't know…. I mean… you're the spitting image of him." Tony said.

Marco attempted to gather himself.

"Am I…. like him in any way? Wha- what was he like?" Marco braved to ask. Tony took a deep breath before he answered.

"He was a womaniser. A lothario. He was…... disloyal to anyone he called a friend. It was an in-joke amongst us that you wouldn't leave him alone with your girlfriend. He seemed to know how to make you feel like you were the centre of the universe, but all the time, he was just looking to see what he could get out of you, then he would cast you aside once he got what he wanted. So, No Marco. You're the opposite of him. The complete opposite."

Marco managed to take some comfort in hearing this.

"You knew this." The whole time! Why did you stay with Mum knowing all this?" Marco asked.

"Because I loved your Mum. I promised to stand by her. For better and for worst."

"….. What about Nonno and Nanna, did they know?"

"Does it make any difference? They loved you, Marco. And that is all you need to know."

Tony's words brought no comfort to Marco as he suddenly shot up and stormed out of the pub. Tony took a short breath and quickly followed Marco outside. Tony shouted for Marco to stop.

"Marco! Wait.…. OK…. I was wrong to walk away from you. I admit that. But you must understand why I walked away. I was upset, I was hurt. I took on the role of being your father when I could have easily walked away. But I didn't. Which was more than that bastard would have done. Your Mum didn't exactly make the last 17 years easy for me, Marco. Holding him up like some kind of standard."

"Well, if it was so hard for you, why did you stay?! I never asked for any of this! I don't even know who I am, Dad!" Marco shouted, overcome with anger and sorrow.

Tony walked slowly forward and put his hands on Marco's shoulders.

"YOU!…. Are my son! Your name is Marco Galluci. Not his name, MY name. I stayed because I chose to. Yes. For a time, your Mum and I were happy, at least I thought we were. But it turns out, she never got over him. But that's her cross to bear." Tony said sternly.

Marco stayed silent.

"From the day you were born, Marco; I've loved you like you were my own. And I still do, and I will do so until my last breath. I am so proud of the person you've become; you're a better man than me AND him. If Nanna and Nonno were here they would say the same thing." Tony said.

Both Father and Son stared each other down. Marco gasped shorts spurts of breath as he finally let his emotions go. Tony was unable to hold back his own tears as he embraced his son. They finally shared in their grief for the loss of family members, for the broken foundation that was once their family.

"You are MY son, and I am proud to be YOUR Dad!" Tony proclaimed through his tears.