Page 7 of The Fates We Tame

“Group speech therapy. Where already-damaged brains go to die from boredom.” Then I laugh. Too hard for what I said. It’s the one thing I can’t control. You could tell me I have a monthleft to live and I’d likely howl. Famine? I’d laugh. Two-week-old baby thrown from the top of a twenty-floor building?

I laugh at the thought of it, even though, intellectually, I know it’s not funny.

Angelique shakes her head.

I close my eyes and take three deep breaths. My strategies are breathe, adjust, think.

BAT for short.

The breath helps me calm. Adjusting helps me change my posture. I hunch my shoulders when I laugh. Thinking means to take a moment and process whether my response is appropriate.

“You’re gonna be out of here soon,” Angelique says. “Not sure the rest of the world is ready for you yet.”

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass behind Angelique. My eye patch is a black outline on my face. “Not sure I’m ready for the rest of the world.”

As I pass through the lobby of the center, I see my father sign in. Next to him is a tray with two take-out cups and a folded paper bag.

“Sophia,” he says when he sees me. As always, he’s dressed in a suit. This one is a charcoal pinstripe that fits too snugly around the middle.

He kisses each of my cheeks and then puts his palm to my face. “You look tired. You getting enough rest?”

I smile. He says that every time he sees me. “I’m fine.”

He hands me the bag. “I only got ten minutes, but want to eat with me?”

“I’m early for my session so your timing is perfect.” We find a spot to sit, and I open the bag. “Cannolo Siciliano? At this time in the morning?”

Papà laughs. “Fried dough and ricotta. It’s practically a grilled cheese sandwich.”

“Not sure that would hold up in front of a judge.”

“Freshly made by Tommaso Buscetta’s mamà. Thegranita di caffèis from a Sip of Sicily, your favorite. Eat. Just don’t tell your mamà I ate them too.”

He winks and take some out of the bag when I offer it to him.

“Busy day?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Your brother Leo has been sniffing around Little Mikey’s girl. He’s gonna get his balls shot off before he even grows into them. Gonna have a word with him to stay on the right side of the Aglieris.”

I almost choke on my coffee. “What about work?”

“Got a meeting with Alessio at ten. We pushed ahead with the purchase of that land adjacent to the docks you suggested. Tough negotiation, but they came down in price just like you said they would.”

I wish I could remember the land and the deal he’s talking about. “You know, I can help. I mean, maybe not as much as I used to. But if I could get access to my old work files, who knows, it might?—”

“Soph. You gotta just focus on this. A time will come for work. You don’t need to worry about money. We got you. Plus, it means you’re free when I need a partner in crime to eat cannoli with in the morning. You remember anything yet?”

He always asks. I wish he wouldn’t. There is nothing quite like feeling you’re letting your father down every day.

I shake my head. “Not yet. You’ll be the first to know if I do.”

We finish our pastries and coffee with some small talk about being out of here by Thanksgiving, and I hug him when he leaves.

It’s odd. He loves me way more than I currently love him because he’s a man I’ve known for less than twenty weeks.

Alessio, at thirty-three, is my eldest brother. He’s so smart and thoughtful. Luca and Leonardo, the twins, are thirty. Luca is intense. Leo is easier going. Shit, I have two more, and I can’tremember their names. My short-term memory isn’t firing on all cylinders today. I pull out my phone to remind myself.

Marco and Enzo.