Animus (4 page)

The neurosurgeon said the bullet missed Giuseppe’s brain stem and the thalamus. She listened attentively as he elaborated about deep brain structures which are crucial to consciousness, basic functions such as controlling breathing and heartbeat. He was optimistic the CT scan hadn’t shown penetration beyond the scalp and there weren’t any bone fragments, subdural bleeding or tissue damage. Giuseppe’s Glasgow coma scale rating upon arrival showed cognitive functions. He responded to voice commands and moved his limbs. Based on these factors, her son’s chance of survival was good, and then the dreaded conjunction had followed. “But, there are complications which may arise such as hydrocephalus, for example. The first seventy-two hours is crucial and we will closely monitor his condition. We’ve administered propofol in an effort not to raise his blood pressure or have him excitable and that is why he sleeps.”

This is what the foreign surgeon told her and the reason
her bambino rested in a comatose state, which resembled death.

The door opened and a nurse entered to check
the EEG and other machines near his bed. Sophie watched her as did the guard seated not far away. Giuseppe was never alone; none of the family was during their recuperation. They had lost friends yesterday and good soldati for what?

The nurse disguised the nervous jitters from the watchful eyes following each movement as she checked the patient’s vitals and IV drip. She recorded her findings, initialed in the patient chart and quickly exited the room, glad to be away from such dangerous people.

Sophie ‘humphed’ at the frightened woman’s departure and then relaxed in the comfortable lounge chair Nico had placed in the room. Yes, Nico had risen to his station, and his handling of the crisis proved he was undoubtedly Alberti’s son. Last night she saw him talking with Bruno in the hall. By their conspiratorial tone they were discussing motive and suspects who sanctioned the heinous crime. Without question, Nico sought to exact vengeance, and Sophie suspected when Alfonzo awakened his anger would be immeasurable. An involuntary tremble occurred at the thought.

A
sigh of relief was that Amelda and Carlo were uninjured. A mother could not endure a triple heartache. Matteo was well, another boon in the sea of tragedy. It is Selange’s face she remembered during the shooting which spasmed her heart. The woman had clutched her, thrusting the baby forward. “Sophie…take Carlo…there’s something wrong,” she had said and looked down. Sophie’s eyes had followed and the river of blood running down her legs frightened an old woman. At first, she believed Selange was wounded by bullets and she gripped the poor girl. Thankfully, Carlo was secured when Selange fainted. Sophie wiped the wetness from her rouged cheek at the memory. They had fallen together because Sophie refused to let go. If she had Selange’s injury may have been fatal. The trio rolled in unison, cushioned by clothes and flesh. It is for family she lived and by the saints it is for family she would die.

The door opened again, it was the specialist Nico flew in. He nodded respectfully and set about examining her boy. He didn’t say anything until he was done. “He’s stable, which is good.” He took out his pen light and checked Giuseppe’s pupils. “Equal and reactive, that’s always a good sign.”

His smile was encouraging and gave Sophie hope, which is something in short supply in hopeless times. “Grazie doctor.”

The neurosurgeon tucked away his assessment tool. “You’re welcome. I’ll check on him again this evening,” he said and departed.

Sophie settled in to nap. Weariness had begun to show in her heavy eyes. Any moment they would have closed except another visitor entered and she slid up fully awake. “Shanda, the baby cannot be in here. Por favore,” she said as she stood and hurried to the woman.

“I’ve come to see him. I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye.”

Sophie ushered Shanda out of the Intensive Care Unit. The woman was not thinking. The hospital is not a place for fragile babies with weak immune systems or healthy ones for that matter. Germs abound. Her eyes registered the young woman’s appearance and the matronly lips frowned. The girl had bags beneath her eyes; her clothes were wrinkled as if she slept in them. She held tightly to Carlo and when Sophie reached for the child, its mother stepped back.

Sophie’s voice became tender, “I will hold Carlo while you visit.”

Shanda’s eyes were glassy, as if she might cry. “I’m sorry Sophie but can you tell Giuseppe when he wakes up that I can’t stay here. I’m afraid for Carlo’s life. My parents are waiting downstairs. They’ve come to take me home and…” she pressed the baby’s head to her breast, “I wanted to be here but I have to think about our son…I have to.”

Sophie rubbed her grandson’s small spine encased in cotton. She kissed his cap and did not try to remove him from its mother. Shanda suffered emotional trauma which was evident. Fragile and vulnerable, it is understandable she
sought comfort of family, but to leave…that is what confused her the most. Perhaps, her parents had more influence on the young woman than she thought.  An angry mother wanted to slap sense into the girl but for the sake of Carlo she did not, instead she said, “When my son is well he will ask for you and Carlo…is it wise to leave so soon?”

“I’ll call every day…I promise Sophie but I need to be with my family after what happened. I’m safer with them.”

Sophie’s disappointment showed. “Then you must do what is best for your delicate heart, but Giuseppe will gain his strength and he will travel wherever you are and claim his son.”

~ ~

Ah, she came. Sí and she carried a bag filled with things as instructed. He could see through the window his father’s men checking through the girly outfits Lucia Peglesi had brought
for Amelda. They were probably informing the teenager Amelda was not at home, but of course Lucia knew this because Giuseppe told her when she called. Amelda had gone to Milan to buy a dress for her sixteenth birthday. His parents were not suspicious when he chose not to go. Who could blame a nineteen year old boy for refusing to suffer through his sister’s fittings? Not to mention, hearing her chatting all afternoon about fabrics and things he cared nothing about. His father certainly understood, but he was obligated to go, Amelda was his genteel flower and his mother asked for his company. His father never denied his mother. After many years together, Giuseppe could tell they were genuinely in love.

He hurried downstairs before Lucia was sent away. He opened the door. “Buongiorno Lucia. Amelda is not home,” he said for affect, “but she said it is okay for you to look through the shoes and borrow any that you like.”

The mean soldati turned to Giuseppe. “Your father gave instruction giovani Giuseppe.”

A smile of warning twisted Giuseppe’s mouth. “Allora non ne parlano.”

Everyone feared Carlo Dichenzo. Giuseppe’s father was considered a mannerly brute. An oxy-moron, certainly, but those who knew his reputation understood. The soldati nodded.

Giuseppe invited the girl in
. “Entre.”

Her almond shaped eyes peered from the soldati who glowered in disapproval
at Giuseppe. Many girls flirted with Giuseppe Dichenzo, and loved the dangerous handsome boy who was rumored to have a sizable dick. A tall Sicilian with the blackest hair, eyes the color of the Mediterranean Sea, and a physique as hard as the sculptures in the piazza, Giuseppe Dichenzo was both good-looking and naughty.

Amelda wasn’t aware of her friends attraction to her brother, perhaps it’s because she never considered shy Lucia
would have an interest in a troublesome and spoiled boy. But, a girl has eyes and equally raging hormones. The only downside to their mutual attraction is Lucia lied to her friend. Her brother Matteo would not like his little sister alone with Giuseppe. The son of Carlo Dichenzo had a not-so-favorable reputation. Fighting, causing mischief and challenging his elders are not the type of boys Catholic girls should have associations. 

She stepped into the foyer. The refined taste of Mrs. Dichenzo evident in everything from the furnishings to the beautiful vases filled with flowers. Lucia visited this home many times, but each time Amelda was present.

The home was quiet. Giuseppe informed her, the cook was out and they were alone. He led her upstairs to his bedroom, locked the door and smiled. “Are you still curious?”

Lucia was nervous. Giuseppe was the first boy she kissed. Amelda had spoken of the great pleasures derived when a boy touches the breasts and many other things. The church did not speak of such intimacy, only of marriage and bambini. Fornication is frowned upon, although Amelda said that is nonsense. When a boy and girl like each other they kiss, touch their bodies together and display their affection. It is the happiness which comes with love. This she believed because Amelda seemed always cheerful.

Giuseppe took off his sneakers and then undressed. “Look.”

Lucia’s eyes widened at Giuseppe’s carved body. His phallus was not lying limp or short like the statues; it rose and was quite big. His hand cupped the venous organ, sliding up and down in a firm caress. “Come feel it. He will not bite. This is what you wanted to know, sí?”

Lucia joined him. She touched it quickly with her finger. His penis was stiff, and soft. His hand covered hers to place her palm around the tubular shaped organ and told her to squeeze. There was a smile on the handsome mouth when she did. Emboldened, she caressed him there, liking the feel of it. His hands moved away and he began to kiss her as she stroked and pulled, stretching his dick, not knowing his arousal increased. His kisses became more liquid, his grunts guttural and he oozed in her hands. “Ummm bella, there is more. Let me show you how nice it feels.”

Lucia’s young breasts hardened beneath her dress. Giuseppe touch
ed her thighs; warm fingers massaged her panties and then went inside her pussy. She began to tingle down there, a lot. Her legs opened, why she did not understand but Giuseppe did. He was older, not by much and he knew of pleasures she did not. He turned her to the bed, told her to lie down. “Do you want me to teach you about the love-making your friends whisper about during mass?”

“Sí, yes.”

“Are you certain Lucia, it is not for children only women?”

“Yes, Giuseppe, I am
not a child. Teach me.”

His gorgeous eyes roved over her. He slid the dress down her arms. She watched, immobile as he peeled away each layer of clothes. He was not clumsy, in fact, he was quite adept at removing her undergarments and she smiled. Nude in the bed of
the most handsome boy in Sicily she did not consider her friendship with Amelda, only what Giuseppe would teach her about love.

His mouth was hot. Suckling,
warm and ticklish on her growing breasts. They enlarged since last year and she noticed many of the boy’s eyes upon them everywhere she went, including Giuseppe. Her eyes closed loving the gentleness of his hand sliding over her hip without haste and inside of her pussy again. Oh, she really liked the sensation, stretched fully and let him explore. She began to squirm, holding his hand there, letting him push deeper, thrusting naturally and wanting more of his tongue in her mouth. Wetness followed. The same wonderful sensation which occurred when she dreamed of Giuseppe, but never spoke to anyone about. His mouth soon went to the wet place, his tongue when it licked her clitoris, indescribable. These pleasures of the flesh were sinfully good. She craved more of Giuseppe, more of his touch.
“Vi piace?” Giuseppe asked after orally tasting her.

“Sí…umm…mi piace molto.”

He rolled onto his back next to her. “Touch me now.”

Her body felt strange. She did not want him to stop with the lessons, and said so. “I like when you touch me and kiss me down there.”

“There is more to the lesson Lucia. You must learn how to give pleasure as well, capisce?” Eager, she turned to await further instruction. He took her hand and placed it on his dick. “Rub, like before.”

She did as told.

“Form a circle with your mouth and wrap your lips around the tip,” he said pointing to the crown.

Her lips opened, and she felt stupid because she didn’t know what came next. Her eyes revealed too much.

He laughed. “Be careful with your teeth; suck as you would your favorite sweet. Back and forth, top to bottom, lick and squeeze as you go.”

Lucia tried. At first her teeth raked him and he tensed. Soon she got the hang of it and suck
ed skillfully, receiving words of encouragement and declarations of love. It was true, he loved her then as any boy would when his dick is sucked so damn well and semen spurts in a gush. She gagged, and he told her to swallow. He loved her more when she did and licked her lips and then said, “You taste good.”

The lesson was not over. They had plenty of time. He made certain to give the cook a list of rare delicacies to buy, claiming his mama wanted to try
out exotic new recipes. She believed Giuseppe because she also spoiled the boy.

Giuseppe sat forward. “This part is the best. It is when we join our bodies and become one.”

The pretty girl with the breasts and thin waist and curvy hips of a woman had caused his blood to burn every time he saw her. Quiet, pretty Lucia Peglesi, was a girl he could love. “Lie on your back.”

She did what he asked.