“What kind of sport were you playing indoors?”
Donnie paused. I could picture the knife-edge of my shoe connecting with his tibia, hear the sound of the paint stick cracking in half. In retrospect, I couldn’t believe I’d done it. And now he was here to tell me he was going to kill me. My legs wobbled so badly I feared everyone around me would notice them.
“Soccer,” Donnie said. “It was an indoor stadium in Waterbury. AstroTurf.”
“Afro-turf?”
Donnie chuckled. “No, Mrs. T. AstroTurf. It’s fake grass. Like a carpet over concrete.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing. Sounds like a rug from another planet. Who plays soccer on a carpet?”
“If I ever see the guy that pushed me when my cleat got stuck…”
My mother gasped. “Someone pushed you?”
Donnie bored into me. “Yeah.”
“You’ll get even the next game. Forgiveness is overrated.” My mother raised a fist and screwed her face tight. “You stick him where it hurts.”
“I love your style, Mrs. T. But I doubt I’ll ever see him again. He knows me too well. I’m sure he’s left town. Left town for good.”
The crowd hushed. Father Yuri appeared at center court, inside the perimeter of tables. A cassock with golden hues hung like a tent from his shoulders. The two altar boys behind him were dressed in black.
Donnie held both crutches in his left hand and gave my mother a hug. “It’s so great to see you, Mrs. T,” he said. “You’ll always be my Mrs. Robinson.” He pulled back, left his arm around her, and smiled at me. “Your daughter is so lucky to have you and her brother. Alive, and well, and close by. You can’t put a price on family, can you, Nadia?”
The people behind us were craning their necks to see Father Yuri, but when a man in crutches begged their pardon they listened. A narrow gap formed in the crowd. As Donnie Angel disappeared among them, the people returned to their places and sealed the gap. The evil Moses, I thought, was leaving the building.
“Still a handsome devil,” my mother said. “Just like his father. He had a crush on me. The father, that is. You know, if he has turned himself around, you could do worse. Don’t those rental places make a lot of money?”
Father Yuri began the ceremony with a prayer. My mind swirled. The dogs who died in Donnie’s imaginary story were his supposed friend’s closest companions. They were the equivalent of family. When Donnie told my mother how lucky I was to have a mother and a brother, he was making it clear to me that he’d kill them both if I didn’t leave Hartford immediately and stop asking questions.
There was a more logical analysis to be made but I was incapable of making it. Donnie Angel knew that my mother and brother meant more to me than anything or anyone else in my life, and he’d left no doubt in my mind that he would shatter the ice beneath their feet without any hesitation. As Father Yuri walked around the basketball court blessing the Easter baskets and sprinkling holy water onto each and every one, I plotted my exit. I needed to get out. For my mother’s and brother’s sakes, I needed to leave Hartford immediately.
But before I could depart I had to wait for the ceremony to end and the crowd to disperse. It took less than ten minutes but the delay was excruciating. I passed the time by watching the altar boys and remembering when I was one of them, young and invulnerable, protected by my belief in a just God and eternal salvation. Back then, I couldn’t wait to leave Hartford and start a new life, away from my parents, their expectations, and the ethnic traditions that constrained my youth. Now here I was, two decades later, desperate to escape again.
I knew my mother would become inveigled into multiple conversations with her friends after the ceremony. She’d want me by her side. It would take her close to an hour to get to the car. She wouldn’t realize, of course, that each minute I lingered, her and my brother’s lives were increasingly at risk.
I had to get away immediately.
I spotted an acquaintance of my mother’s from Rocky Hill, Mrs. Smith, and a solution sprang to mind. I walked over to her, said hello, suffered through a minute of small talk, and then asked her for a favor. Afterward, I hurried back to my mother, who was receiving compliments on her Easter basket from a handsome, elderly man I didn’t recognize. One of her suitors, no doubt.
“Mrs. Smith is going to drive you home,” I said. “Something’s come up. I have to go back to New York now. I’m going to switch cars on the way home.” I leaned into her ear. “I’ll leave the key on top of the driver’s side rear wheel.”
My mother pulled her neck back, disappointment etched in her face. She glanced at her friend, who stood by expectantly.
“But I wanted to introduce you to some people.”
“I’m sorry, Mama. I’d love to hang out with you, but I can’t.”
She studied me again. Her expression turned serious. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Nothing. Just business. Go home with Mrs. Smith.”
My mother hesitated as though she wanted to ask more questions. But then she cleared her throat and raised her voice so everyone could hear her.
“I understand, my kitten,” she said. “It’s not easy being a top financial executive these days. I appreciate that you came. You go, take care of yourself.” She leaned in and kissed my cheek.
Her kiss disoriented me. Even though it was for show, under any other circumstances it would have made my day, year, or quite possibly my life. But now it simply reminded me how arrogant I’d become and how close I was to ruining the lives of the two people who mattered to me the most. I wanted to climb into a time machine and go back and change things, or jump into a vat of acid and dissolve my entire being.
I started to leave but she tugged on the sleeve of my coat.
“One more thing,” she said, leaning into me. “Ignore what I said before. Stay away from that Bohdan Angelovich. He was bad news from the moment he came out of the womb. His mother was a pathological liar and so is he. Don’t believe a word he says. Promise?”
“Yes, Mama. I promise.”
“Good. Now don’t forget. Send me that big check soon.”
Kisses and advice in exchange for money. That was a new one, I thought.
I kept my head down as I headed for the stairs for fear someone would recognize me and call my name. I couldn’t imagine stopping to reminisce and wasting more time, but I didn’t want to be rude to good people. I held my breath until I got to the door and exhaled when the sunshine hit my face outside the school hall.
My relief didn’t last long.
Donnie Angel’s van sat idling in front of me.
CHAPTER 25
Exhaust billowed from four tailpipes, accompanied by an intermittent rasp. The two men who’d snatched me off the streets of Manhattan stepped out of the van. One of them threw a cigarette butt onto the ground and stomped it out. The parking lot was filled with people carrying Easter baskets. Some were milling about chatting; others were climbing into their cars. A line of vehicles was waiting by the exit. There was no way for the van to leave the parking lot, and they couldn’t kidnap me right behind the church in front of a hundred people.
Could they?
I turned and headed toward my car. Their appearance was so audacious, the sight of the van so disturbing, that I began to run. I sprinted down the sidewalk from the school past the church. When I caught up to a dozen people headed for their cars on the street, I stopped and looked over my shoulder.
I didn’t see the two men. They weren’t on my heels. A wave of relief washed over me. Then I spotted them, leaning against the back of the van, staring straight at me. As soon as our eyes met, they climbed into the van without saying a word to each other. The brake lights flashed red. The driver was shifting into gear, I thought. They were going to follow me. They were coming after me.