Vito yelled from the kitchen, taking a sip from his second warm beer.
Katrina burst in, heading straight for their father, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.
Vito patted her back, his eyes on the doorway as Erika stepped into view. "Erika."
"Vito," she said. "What brings you home?"
"Oh, I think you know."
Erika's eyes narrowed suspiciously, darting straight to Corrado. His shoulders slumped, body trying to fold into itself as he wished he could disappear.
Vito pulled Katrina away from him, motioning toward the rest of the pizza. "Why don't you grab a slice and head on upstairs so your mother and I can talk?"
Katrina glanced at the pizza and wrinkled her nose. "I don't like sausage."
"Pick it off."
"Gross, and mushrooms!"
"Pick them off, too."
"But—"
"You heard me, Kat. You can't always have it your way."
Katrina stared at their father for a second, frowning as he cut off her whining. She grabbed a piece of pizza and stormed out, her feet stomping on the stairs. Corrado slid off of his stool, his head down as he scampered toward the doorway.
"Hey, kid."
Corrado looked at his father.
"You look like you grew another foot."
Smiling, he turned back around and slipped from the room.
He barely had enough time to make it to his bedroom before fighting ignited downstairs. It was different this time, as Vito's usual passive voice rose above the chaos, enraged and terrifying.
"You think it's okay to beat my son? You think it's okay to hit him like a man? How about I beat you that way, huh? How about I hit you like a fucking man!"
Corrado huddled under his blanket again, trying not to listen to them, but it was impossible to block out all of the shouting.
"You can't pay the bills, you can't feed my kids, but you can go shopping? You can spend my money on this bullshit—your expensive shoes, your fucking vintage wine—but you can't keep the goddamn electric going?"
Corrado's door creaked opened, the loose floorboard groaning again. He didn't look, knowing it could only be his sister. She stood there beside his bed, and Corrado sensed her gaze on where he laid, dead center of the bed, but he didn't move, didn't scoot over to give her room.
He had nothing to say to her after what she'd done to him.
Katrina went away eventually, going back to her room alone.
"I do everything for you… everything ! You never had to work a day in your life because of me! All I ask is you keep my kids fed, and you don't even have to do that! I give you someone to do it for you! And you can't keep them around for more than a couple days without losing control!"
The fighting went on and on, non-stop for hours, increasingly incoherent as they yelled about things Corrado didn't understand. The house was pitch black when it slowed to a trickle, finally growing silent, not a peep downstairs from either parent. After awhile his bedroom door opened again, heavy footsteps treading through the room. Someone sat down on the end of the bed and snatched the comforter off Corrado's head.
"Come on, kid." Vito's voice was scratchy from the relentless shouting. "Don't do that. We Moretti men don't hide. We don't cower from anyone."
Corrado sat up carefully, eyeing his father in the darkened room. From the soft glow of the moon, he noticed scratches on Vito's skin from his mother's fingernails.
"Your mother said you stole from her, that you lied about it. That true?"
He hesitated before slowly nodding.
"I told her she ain't give you no choice," Vito continued, not surprised by his answer. He knew he had. "You throw a man into a war and he's gonna kill, you know? Gotta do what we gotta do, any means necessary to make it out alive. And besides, people should never be punished for protecting family, no matter what."
Vito ran his hands down his face before standing back up. "You can't go to school looking like that. They'll think you live in a bad home, and we can't have them thinking that. We can't have them thinking they can take you
Katrina burst in, heading straight for their father, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.
Vito patted her back, his eyes on the doorway as Erika stepped into view. "Erika."
"Vito," she said. "What brings you home?"
"Oh, I think you know."
Erika's eyes narrowed suspiciously, darting straight to Corrado. His shoulders slumped, body trying to fold into itself as he wished he could disappear.
Vito pulled Katrina away from him, motioning toward the rest of the pizza. "Why don't you grab a slice and head on upstairs so your mother and I can talk?"
Katrina glanced at the pizza and wrinkled her nose. "I don't like sausage."
"Pick it off."
"Gross, and mushrooms!"
"Pick them off, too."
"But—"
"You heard me, Kat. You can't always have it your way."
Katrina stared at their father for a second, frowning as he cut off her whining. She grabbed a piece of pizza and stormed out, her feet stomping on the stairs. Corrado slid off of his stool, his head down as he scampered toward the doorway.
"Hey, kid."
Corrado looked at his father.
"You look like you grew another foot."
Smiling, he turned back around and slipped from the room.
He barely had enough time to make it to his bedroom before fighting ignited downstairs. It was different this time, as Vito's usual passive voice rose above the chaos, enraged and terrifying.
"You think it's okay to beat my son? You think it's okay to hit him like a man? How about I beat you that way, huh? How about I hit you like a fucking man!"
Corrado huddled under his blanket again, trying not to listen to them, but it was impossible to block out all of the shouting.
"You can't pay the bills, you can't feed my kids, but you can go shopping? You can spend my money on this bullshit—your expensive shoes, your fucking vintage wine—but you can't keep the goddamn electric going?"
Corrado's door creaked opened, the loose floorboard groaning again. He didn't look, knowing it could only be his sister. She stood there beside his bed, and Corrado sensed her gaze on where he laid, dead center of the bed, but he didn't move, didn't scoot over to give her room.
He had nothing to say to her after what she'd done to him.
Katrina went away eventually, going back to her room alone.
"I do everything for you… everything ! You never had to work a day in your life because of me! All I ask is you keep my kids fed, and you don't even have to do that! I give you someone to do it for you! And you can't keep them around for more than a couple days without losing control!"
The fighting went on and on, non-stop for hours, increasingly incoherent as they yelled about things Corrado didn't understand. The house was pitch black when it slowed to a trickle, finally growing silent, not a peep downstairs from either parent. After awhile his bedroom door opened again, heavy footsteps treading through the room. Someone sat down on the end of the bed and snatched the comforter off Corrado's head.
"Come on, kid." Vito's voice was scratchy from the relentless shouting. "Don't do that. We Moretti men don't hide. We don't cower from anyone."
Corrado sat up carefully, eyeing his father in the darkened room. From the soft glow of the moon, he noticed scratches on Vito's skin from his mother's fingernails.
"Your mother said you stole from her, that you lied about it. That true?"
He hesitated before slowly nodding.
"I told her she ain't give you no choice," Vito continued, not surprised by his answer. He knew he had. "You throw a man into a war and he's gonna kill, you know? Gotta do what we gotta do, any means necessary to make it out alive. And besides, people should never be punished for protecting family, no matter what."
Vito ran his hands down his face before standing back up. "You can't go to school looking like that. They'll think you live in a bad home, and we can't have them thinking that. We can't have them thinking they can take you
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