The Woman at the Docks - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,27
could be twins."
"That might be the kindest exaggeration I've ever heard," I told him, snorting.
"You haven't seen a mirror lately," he concluded, hitting some buttons on my phone. "Just sending it to myself. And now you have my number too," he added, passing it back to me. "I was wrong," he said a second later, gaze on me.
"About what?"
"You and your sister. I was wrong. I think your face has more character."
'Character?" I wasn't sure if that was a compliment. It didn't seem like one.
"You have a little scar here," he said, tracing a finger down his jaw where I did have an old nearly skin-tone scar.
"I, ah, yeah. I fell into a little ditch on the side of our house. I was stuck in there for an hour before my father found me," I added, not sure why I wanted to give him more than what he asked for, but following the impulse regardless.
"Clumsy kid?" he asked.
"Not particularly. I'd been trying to reach my ball that had fallen in. And then I followed, scraping my face on the edge of the cement as I went. Were you?" I asked, realizing I wanted the conversation to keep going. "A clumsy kid," I clarified.
"No," he told me, shaking his head, and even as I asked it, I had trouble picturing this very collected, very deliberate, very confident man tripping over his own feet. Even as a kid. "Matteo was the clumsy one."
"Your brother?" I clarified.
"Yeah."
"Have I met him yet?"
"No. And you likely won't. We don't see him around often."
"He's not in the... family business?" I asked, surprised. "Aren't you, you know, born into this lifestyle?"
"No. It's always a choice. When we get older, we make that choice."
"No familial guilt?"
"No. If anything, most of our parents don't want this life for us. My father wanted me to be a doctor," he admitted, chuckling.
"Is that so far-fetched?" I asked, getting the mental image of him in a white jacket. Maybe it wasn't a good idea. He'd likely send all the little old ladies in his care into arrhythmia.
"Considering the fact that I never once showed any interest in it, yes."
"Did you always know you wanted to be like your father?"
"I always revered my father. But it wasn't until I was seven that I knew I was going to grow up to be like him."
"You knew what he did for a living then?" I asked, my heart aching for the little boy he'd once been, someone who should have been innocent to the ugly of the world. Then again, I hadn't exactly been untouched by the nasty things that life had to offer sometimes.
"He tried to protect us from it. Even after our mom died. But I was a nosy kid. I figured it out myself one night. And ever since, then, I knew this life was my legacy."
"Have you ever resented that? Having a life mapped out from the beginning?
"No."
"That's it? No?" I asked, reaching for my slice of pizza, already starting to feel more human with a little food working its way into my system.
"I am good at what I do. I like being in charge. I am a fair boss. This was a good position for me."
"Does your brother resent it? Is that why he is never around?"
"Matteo is too busy chasing skirts and dropping cash to care much about how that money is made. He was never meant for the higher up positions in this world. He has always known that. He does what he needs to do, and he is happy to leave the rest to my father and me."
"What does he do if he's not... doing family business?"
"He operates a small string of party venues. It gives his life a little purpose. We get a cut. It all shakes out. Speaking of work, are you still going to have a job when all of this is done?"
"I don't know," I admitted, "but it doesn't matter. I will figure something out. There are always jobs for interpreters. And I really never planned to stay there forever."
"Do you miss your family? I'm assuming they are in Venezuela if that was where your sister was taken from."
"I do miss them. My mom is gone now, and I didn't know my other relatives until I was an adult. But I do miss them. The way you miss a friend who moves away, I guess."