but we live in Belleville, Illinois. Italian girls are hard to come by.
“Well, does she at least look Italian?” she continues, not letting it go.
“I don’t know, Ma. Who looks Italian? She has dark brown hair and brown eyes. I didn’t know we had to look a certain way to be true Italians.”
She puts her hands up like she’s showing me they’re empty. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. I just think it’s nice, that’s all. I hope you two can be really good friends. Dominic and Alannah. That sounds nice.”
“Oh my god, Ma.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something else,” she says, but that sneaky smile is still lingering. “I forgot to ask you earlier since you got home so late; how was your weekend with your father?”
An image flashes in my memory . . .
“Clean this off and put it in the glove compartment,” he says as he looks out the window at the guy who’s still on the ground.
I use the towel to wipe the blood off the gun.
“It was good. Fun,” I reply, smiling as I chew. I make sure to keep my eyes on my plate.
“Yeah? He take you anywhere?” she asks, suddenly serious.
The smile melts off my face, but I keep looking down. I know she’s staring at me.
“Umm, nowhere special. We just hung out,” I reply.
I’m not stupid. I know why my parents aren’t together, and my father has told me plenty of times that there’s things I can’t say in front of my mother. My father hasn’t changed at all. The things he does when we’re together are the exact things my mother hates about him. It’s weird, because I know she still loves him, there’s just certain things she hates about him. Grownups are strange.
“Don’t lie to me, Dominic Giovanni Collazo,” she snips. Ugh, my full name. Now I have to look up at her, and she’s glaring at me with an expressionless face.
“I’m not, Ma,” I lie.
I look back down at my plate even though my lasagna is almost gone. I hear her take a deep breath, which is the signal that she’s about to give a speech.
“Listen to me, Dom,” she begins. I know how this goes, so I put my fork down and prepare to listen for a while. “I love your father, I really do, but I also know the truth about him. And I know you’re getting to that age now that you’re learning the truth about him, too. I know what your father does, and who he hangs out with, and I know it’s dangerous. He loves you, though, and I’m not gonna try to deny him his right to being your father. I’d never even think of doing that, but I need you to know something. Your father’s life might seem glamorous. He’s got a lot of money, and he knows a lot of people who fear and respect him. But what your father does isn’t glamorous, Dominic, it’s dangerous. Maybe you haven’t seen that much of it yet, but I know Donnie, so I’m sure you will. You have to be smarter than that. Make some friends the right way, and do something good with your life. I don’t want you to be like your father.”
“Why would you say that?” I snap. “My father is respected by everyone in St. Louis. They all know his name. Me? People treat me like crap at school, and I just let them get away with it. They laugh at me, they call me Ugly Dominic. Nobody likes me, Ma, and you want me to not be like Dad. I wish I was like him. He gets respect, but not me. I’d rather be like him than be like me.”
“Don’t say that, Dominic,” Mom answers, softening her tone now. “I know how rough school can be, and I know some kids are little shits, but you have to be above them, just like you have been. You’re better than those kids who are calling you names. Don’t bring yourself down to their level. Don’t let them bother you with their words.”
“Their words hurt, Ma!” I yell. I didn’t mean to, it just came out that way.
Both of us are silent for a moment, my words hanging in the air like a cloud above our heads. The tension in my mother’s face eases as she gets up from her seat and kneels in front of me. She takes my hand and looks me right