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“Hey,” I say softly, “how about we go get a snack from the vending machine? Might make you feel a little better.”
Lou hesitates but shakes her head. “No.”
“C’mon, Lou,” Fee says as she crouches down in front of her daughter and tries to reassuringly pat her hand. Lou yanks her hand away.
“No. I don’t want to,” she says sullenly.
“I’ll let you have whatever you want,” I say to Lou. “Whatever your favorite snack or candy is.”
Lou scowls at me. “I. Said.No.”
“Lucille Saldano,” Fee says sharply, and even Lou looks up at her in surprise. “I have not raised you to be rude. Angelo is nicely asking if you would like a treat from the vending machine. The answer I am expecting out of you is‘yes, thank you.’ Am I understood?”
Lou glares at her mother but unfolds her body from the chair and gets down. “Fine,” she grits out and marches out of the room.
Jesus Christ, help me.
We walk down the hospital corridor, the harsh fluorescent lights casting a sickly glow on the pale green walls. The air is thick with the smell of disinfectant, barely masking the underlying scents of sickness and worry. Nurses hurry past, their shoes squeaking on the polished linoleum floor, while the steady beep of machines echoes from nearby rooms.
“I hate hospitals,” I mutter, more to myself than to Lou.
She glances up at me, her blue eyes sharp. “Is it because you’ve put a lot of people in here?”
JesusChrist, I wasn’t expectingthat.
I choke, stopping in my tracks. Lou crosses her arms, fixing me with a look that’s far too knowing for her nine years. I sigh, running a hand through my hair.
“No, kid. That’s not it,” I say, deciding on honesty. “Last time I was in a hospital, I was too late to save my dad.”
Lou grows quiet, her eyes softening slightly. She clearly wasn’t expecting that. “What happened to him?”
I hesitate, but something in her gaze tells me she can handle the truth. “His car was blown up. The explosion punctured his kidney. I… I didn’t make it in time to give him mine.”
She doesn’t need to know how often I dream about this.
Lou’s face remains expressionless, but her voice is soft when she asks, “Was he a good guy? Your dad?”
Memories of my father suddenly assault me—his smile, his booming laugh, his ability to be the greatest Don I’ve ever seen—and I nod, feeling a lump in my throat. “Yeah, he was the best.”
“Must be nice,” Lou says, her voice suddenly bitter. “My dad sucks. He tried to kidnap me.”
Before I can respond, she’s walking away again, leaving me feeling like I’ve just been fucking hit by an emotional freight train. This kid, with her sharp mind and even sharper tongue, keeps me constantly off-balance.
I look up at the ceiling, as if it’ll have the answers I need. I am completely out of my depth with this kid.
Lou is nearly at the vending machine, and I hurry after her. By the time I get there, she’s glaring at the selection, her small face scrunched in frustration.
“All this candy sucks,” she mutters.
I pull out my wallet, trying to keep my voice light. “Come on, there’s gotta be something in here you’d like. Do you like chocolate? They got Reese’s in here and everyone loves that?—”
Lou whirls on me, her eyes flashing with anger. “No! I hate all the candy in here. I hate you too! Just leave mealone!”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I’m taken aback, reminding myself that she’s just a traumatized kid. But despite my best efforts, I feel my own irritation rising to the surface.
“Well, excuse me for trying to help,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend. “Next time, I’ll just let you stare at the machines in silence.”
Lou seems startled by my response, but she quickly squares her shoulders, glaring up at me. “Everything was fine until you showed up at Perfezione,” she spits out. “Ever since you came into our lives, bad stuff keeps happening!”
