"Oh Alex," Gloria whispers into my ear, "What have you done?" What have I done? Through the pounding in my ears and the caustic screams that die in my throat, I can barely make sense of the world around me. Then it hits me—I did this. I brought this on the family. I’m the reason that Gloria's husband is being arrested.
I focus on my breathing, forcing it into even patterns, and steady myself on my feet, pulling away from Gloria. I scrub my face with my hands and wipe away the remaining tears. I have to pull it together. I can't keep acting like this. Gloria grabs me by my arm and drags me down the hallway. We round a corner and continue down another long, sterile hallway. I do my best to keep up with her long strides, but she’s steadfast in her determination. I just let myself get pulled along, realizing my Aunt Gloria might be the only person I can trust to get me out of this mess alive.
Suddenly, Gloria pulls me into a small room that appears to be an informal office with a heavy wooden desk, two tall filing cabinets, and a chair on either side. With a quick look around, Gloria closes the door and takes several deep breaths to calm herself. Her hands are shaking just slightly, her breaths coming in strained pants. She leans back and rests against the desk. When she’s calmed herself down sufficiently, she speaks quietly and in Italian.
"What did you do, Alex?"
"I don't know," I say. I have to be honest with her, but when my brain tries to extract the words from my lungs, it all comes out as a lie. I cover my mouth with my hands as if I can wipe away the lies, the truth, and everything that has happened in the last six hours.
"We can't have this conversation in English, Alex. It's too dangerous," Gloria says in Italian. Right, dangerous, I think. But who makes the conversation itself dangerous— the police or the family? Because as I see it, considering most everybody who matters is fluent in Italian, it doesn't matter what language I speak in. But it needs to be said, and I’m not about to argue with the one person I think will help me.
"Officer Davis," I squeak out in hushed tones, my Italian fluid despite the tremor in my voice. Gloria keeps her face stern as I do my best to relive the events from earlier. I tell her about overhearing my father talking to Leo about me, but purposefully omit how I'd overheard it. I tell her how I thought Michael had been hurt or worse and how I ran to save him, despite having no way of doing so.
I tell her everything right down to the most awful truth of all—when I told Officer Davis where he could find Michael, and how Tony had obviously overheard. I may not have known what giving Officer Davis Angelo Fortino's name would do, but it doesn't matter. My father and Uncle Emilio are in custody. My brother has to have been treated for his gunshot wound, but he’s in custody, too, I guess. My biggest problem, however, is Tony. He isn't just angry with me; he's disowned me. Tony having overheard me talking to Officer Davis is beyond bad.
Gloria takes a few moments to let it all settle in. She looks half set to strangle me and half set to walk out of the room as though she’s never heard anything. There’s nothing more I can hope for—that much I know.
"Oh, God," Gloria finally says. She shakes her head and wraps her arms around her torso. A minute or two passes before she speaks again. "Some things have to happen, Alex. None of it is going to make any sense, and I can't explain." She’s imploring me with her eyes, willing me to understand. But I don't.
"You're scaring me," I whisper, tears wetting my cheeks. She clears her throat, walks to me, and hugs me to her chest. I fight back the flood of tears that I don’t think will never end.
"And you're scaring me, Alexandra. There is only one thing I have ever told you not to do. One thing that I was wholly serious about, just one thing, Alex—and you did it anyway. You spoke to someone outside of the family about family business." I deserve her judgment. She deserves this moment to scold me for my epically poor behavior, but her words make my blood boil.
"I thought I was protecting my brother," I defend, the words coming out in a frenzied, jumbled combination of Italian and English, which happens regularly when I’m upset.
"There is nothing further you can do, sweetheart. You must trust me. I'll take care of this. Can you do that?" I nod. It’s not too much for her to ask. “Go back to the waiting room, miele. Wait for me. Do not go anywhere.”
“Is Michael here?” I blurt out, distracted. I don’t want to go to the waiting room if I have a chance to see my brother.
“It’s too dangerous,” she says. Her mouth turns down in apology. I start to object, but she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but no. This is non-negotiable.” Everything, it seems, is too dangerous now. I walk down the hall like I’ve been instructed. I keep my eyes on watch for any familiar faces. Down the hallway, just after the turn down the other hallway that leads back to Tony's room, stands Officer Davis and Agent Wilks. I approach silently, intent on listening to their faint conversation as I pass.
"The girl, she gave up the location," Officer Davis says, pride evident in his smug voice. My stomach churns at the sound of it.