The Sins We Inherit

Sixteen Years Earlier VALERIE Age Six The rain makes the whole world look blurry. I press my nose against the cold car window, watching the lights of New York stretch into long, wiggly lines. "Mama?" I call from the back seat, hugging my stuffed rabbit against my chest. "Hmm?" she answers distractedly, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. "Do you think Vinny misses me?" Mama's face softens, and a gentle smile spreads across her lips. "Of course he does, sweetheart," she assures me. "Your brother loves you very much." I wrinkle my nose. "Then why doesn't he call?" Her smile falters slightly before she returns her attention to the road. "Because your brother has a lot of schoolwork, Valentina," she explains patiently. "And there's a time difference between here and Italy." I frown, pulling Mr. Buttons closer. "That's stupid," I mutter. "Valentina Mary Moretti," Mama scolds, although I can hear the laughter hiding beneath her stern voice. I giggle. She always says my whole name when I'm being naughty. Papa does too. Except Papa says it even when I'm being good, just because he knows I don't like it. Everybody calls me Valerie. Even Vinny. Unless he's trying to annoy me. Which is most of the time. "Sorry, Mama," I say sweetly, offering her my very best smile in the mirror. "That's better, my little troublemaker," she replies with a soft laugh. I look down at the stuffed rabbit sitting in my lap. Mr. Buttons has been my favorite toy since I was four. He's missing one eye because I accidentally pulled it off. Vinny said he looked tougher that way. I think he's right. "Can we call Vinny when we get home?" I ask hopefully. Mama glances at me again. "Of course we can, baby." "Promise?" "Cross my heart," she promises warmly, placing one hand over her chest for a moment. I smile, satisfied. My brother has been gone forever. Papa says he's at a special school in Italy, the same one Papa went to when he was little. I don't understand why Vinny has to go to school so far away. I go to school right here. And my school has crayons. And a playground. And Mrs. Donnelly lets us have cookies on Fridays. Italy sounds terrible. "Maybe we can visit him soon," Mama suggests, interrupting my thoughts. I sit up straighter, excitement bubbling in my chest. "Really?" "Really," she confirms, smiling. "Can we bring him home?" Her smile becomes smaller. She looks out at the rain for a moment before answering. "We'll see, sweetheart," she says gently. I sigh. That's what grown-ups say when they don't want to tell you no. I know because Papa says it all the time. "Vinny says his school has a castle," I tell her, swinging my feet beneath my seat. "It does have some very old buildings," Mama replies with a fond smile. "And boys aren't allowed to have candy in their rooms." "That sounds like a perfectly reasonable rule." I gasp in horror. "Mama!" She laughs, shaking her head. It's my favorite sound. When Mama laughs, she scrunches her nose and sometimes covers her mouth with her hand. Papa says I laugh just like her. I hope that's true. "Well," she says playfully, "maybe we'll send him a box of candy and tell him not to share." I grin. "Can we?" "We'll talk about it," she replies, her eyes sparkling with amusement. I settle back against my seat. Outside, the rain gets heavier. The windshield wipers move back and forth. Swish. Swish. Swish. I watch the cars behind us. There's a black one with a funny-looking headlight. It was behind us when we stopped at the last light. And the light before that. I turn around in my seat to get a better look. "Mama?" I ask curiously. "Yes, baby?" "That car keeps following us." Mama glances into the rearview mirror. Her smile disappears. I sit up straighter, watching her expression change. "Mama?" "It's okay, sweetheart," she reassures me quickly, although her voice sounds different now. Tighter. Like when Papa gets a phone call during dinner and suddenly stops smiling. Mama looks in the mirror again. Then she reaches for her phone. I hear the little clicking noises as she presses the buttons. She puts it to her ear. "Sal?" she says, her voice suddenly serious. I recognize Uncle Sal's name. Mama grips the steering wheel tighter. "Sal, listen to me. I think someone's following us," she says urgently, glancing between the road and the rearview mirror. My tummy feels funny. I turn around again. The black car is still there. It's closer now. "Mary?" Uncle Sal's voice sounds tiny through the phone. "Where are you?" "On the parkway. I'm heading back toward the house," Mama answers quickly. "Is Valerie with you?" he asks, his voice sounding different too. Mama looks at me. "Yes," she replies quietly. There's a pause. Then Uncle Sal says something I can't hear. Mama presses harder on the pedal. "Don't tell Vincent until you know what's happening," she says firmly. Another pause. "Sal, I don't want him doing something stupid," she adds, her voice trembling slightly. I don't understand. Papa doesn't do stupid things. Papa knows everything. He knows how to fix my bicycle. He knows how to make pancakes shaped like stars. He even knows how to get the knots out of my hair without making me cry. Papa can fix anything. "Mama?" I whisper. She looks at me in the mirror. "Baby, I need you to listen very carefully," she says, her voice becoming unusually calm. My fingers tighten around Mr. Buttons. "Okay," I answer nervously. "Keep your seat belt on, and don't take it off. No matter what happens," she instructs firmly. I nod. "Okay." "And I need you to be very brave," she adds, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. I don't like that. I don't want to be brave. I want to go home. I want Papa. I want Vinny. "Mama, I'm scared," I admit, my lower lip beginning to tremble. Her eyes fill with tears. I don't think I've ever seen Mama cry before. Not like this. "I know, my little star," she whispers, struggling to keep her voice steady. "But you're going to be okay. I promise." The black car gets closer. Mama presses the pedal harder. The engine makes a loud noise. "Mama?" I cry, my voice rising. "It's okay, baby," she says desperately. "Just keep your seat belt on." But then there's a horrible sound. A loud horn. A screech. Mama screams something. The car jerks sideways. And suddenly, everything is spinning. The world turns upside down. Glass breaks. Something hits my head. Mr. Buttons flies out of my hands. And then... Nothing. Something hurts. My head. My arm. My whole body. I try to move, but my seat belt is too tight. Everything smells funny. Like smoke. And rain. And something sharp that makes my nose sting. "Mama?" I call weakly. My voice sounds small. Nobody answers. I blink. The car is sideways. Or maybe I'm sideways. I can't tell. "Mama?" I call again, louder this time. A quiet sound comes from the front seat. I see her hair. Her pretty brown hair. There's something red on her forehead. I don't like it. "Mama, you're bleeding," I whisper, staring at the red streak running down her face. She moves a little. "Val..." she breathes. I start crying. "Mama, I want Papa," I sob, pulling against my seat belt. "I know, baby," she whispers faintly. Her voice sounds wrong. Like she's talking through water. "Where's Mr. Buttons?" I ask through my tears, searching the broken car. I can't see him. I need him. Vinny gave him to me. "Sweetheart..." Mama begins, her voice barely audible. She coughs. Then she makes a little noise like she's hurting. I cry harder. "Mama, please," I beg. She turns her head just enough to look at me. Her eyes are wet. "Listen to me, my little star," she whispers solemnly. That's what she calls me. Her little star. Because she says I make everything brighter. "I love you," she says, her voice breaking. I sniffle. "I love you too, Mama." "So much," she continues, struggling to breathe. "More than anything in this world." "Mama..." "And your brother..." she whispers. She stops. Her eyes close. "Mama?" I cry, panic rising in my chest. She opens them again. "Tell Vinny..." she manages. I wait, tears streaming down my cheeks. Her voice gets quieter. "Tell him I love him. Every single day." I nod quickly. "Okay, Mama." "Promise me, baby," she pleads, her eyes searching mine. "I promise," I sob. She tries to smile. "Good girl," she whispers. I hear voices outside. Men. One of them laughs. Then someone opens a car door. Rain splashes against the broken window. "Check it," a man orders sharply. Another man leans into the front of the car. I can't see his face. Only his arm. His hand. There's a shiny ring on his finger. A snake. With a dark stone. He looks at Mama. Then he looks at me. For a second, nobody moves. "There's a kid," he says, sounding surprised. Another man comes closer. "Who?" he demands. The first man looks at me again. "Moretti's daughter," he answers grimly. The second man swears. "Fuck." I don't know that word. But Vinny says it sometimes when he thinks Mama isn't listening. The men whisper. I can't hear everything. Then one of them says, "Leave the girl." Another voice answers, "And the mother?" There's a silence. A long one. Then footsteps. A car door slams. An engine starts. And they're gone. I don't understand why they didn't help us. I don't understand why Mama isn't moving anymore. "Mama?" I whisper. Nothing. "Mama, wake up," I plead, reaching toward her. My fingers can't touch her. The seat belt holds me back. "Mama, please," I sob. My voice breaks. "Please wake up." But she doesn't. And I keep calling for her until the flashing lights arrive.