“No. I didn’t,” I managed to say.
Yet the words fell flat in the space between us, crushed beneath the weight of their accusations.
I could barely contain my outrage as I screamed out in frustration.
Adriana was quick to glide over, her voice urgent, her laugh coming a half-second too fast as her fingers went to her earring. “This isn’t the time to argue. We need to figure out where they were left. If someone runs back for them, we can probably still make the crossing in time.”
Just then my son’s wife came over, pressing her lips into a small apologetic smile while her eyes slid away from mine. “It’s all my fault. I was going to bring breakfast this morning, but my bag was too full, so I took it out. That’s probably when I pulled the papers loose by accident.”
I looked to Salvatore, but his face showed no trace of guilt.
“This is all your fault,” I snapped. “You insisted on bringing breakfast. If you hadn’t pretended to be so thoughtful, none of this would’ve happened.”
The anger surged through me and suddenly my mind went blank. I lost consciousness and collapsed hard to the floor. The pain shot up from my head.
No one came to help. They were already rushing for the departure gate, leaving me behind on the ground.
A stranger, a civilian with no stake in the name, helped me to the hospital, and by the time I regained my senses it was almost evening.
I opened my phone to find a message from my son’s wife.
[Ma, we couldn't find you at the crossing. We’ve got the papers and we’re about to board. Don’t be mad at Papa, he was just in a hurry. I know this is my fault and I’m sorry you had to go through that. When we get back, I’ll bring you a gift. Take care of yourself.]
Tears slid down my face. Thirty years of tribute and quiet labor, and this was the result.
I couldn’t keep living like this.
I made my way home in the dark, and for the first time in days, I slept soundly. My heart had finally died. There would be no more expectations. Once I let go, everything seemed less unbearable.
The next morning, I took out all the laundered cash I had set aside over the years, along with the title to the seat. My name was the only one on it.
For all these years, I had worked without rest, running the front, keeping the books, moving the tribute, doing everything to keep the name solvent, while Salvatore lost himself entirely in the old glory of a title he’d inherited and never earned.
This property, the Family’s seat, I had bought outright, with no help from anyone. It was mine on paper, and no one had ever thought to wonder what that meant.
I drove to the office that handled such matters, no hesitation, just one simple request.
"Sell it as soon as possible."
I agreed to a three percent discount, and the man happily listed the seat out from under them.
Then I booked myself passage for three days out. My destination was the Elontrian Countries. Yes, it was going to be the first of my stops on a journey beyond the name, beyond the territory, beyond their reach.
I decided that my life needed a fresh start, and it was going to begin right here.
