Touched by the Mobster

“Let’s wait a little longer…” I heard my uncle say. We were both watching my mother lying in bed, clearly unwell, until she suddenly started foaming at the mouth. I broke free from his embrace, her eyes fixed on the two of us, and ran out in desperation, screaming for help. “Help! Help, my mother’s not well!” I shouted loud enough for all the neighbors to hear, banging on every door in the building. Some people came out, others didn’t. They were just a group of onlookers gathering at our door—none of them actually willing to help. “Diana!” I saw Uncle Thales standing at our doorstep with his hands in his pockets, calling me over with a serious look on his face. “Diana, there’s nothing more to be done.” I froze. What did he mean by “nothing more to be done”? I stared at my uncle as he crossed the street toward me and, once again with his usual patience, took my hand and looked into my eyes. “What do you mean…” I began, but he interrupted me with a nod. “Your mother just passed away, my dear.” I looked at him. Something inside me broke—pain and regret exploded the moment I heard the words. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I shook my head in denial—it couldn’t be true. Maybe I was crying from regret, maybe from the loss itself. But the truth was that the last thing I ever said to my mother was that I hated her. I called her a liar. I just wanted to know who my father was, and once again, like always, she refused to tell me. I was tired of asking, of questioning, of begging to know. She never told me who he was, where he went. All I had were faint memories, slowly fading. She always ran from the topic, always denied me the answers I needed. And now, seeing her lifeless body, it was too much to bear. She was all I had in this world—my mother. She was the one who came to get me from the police station or school after a fight or a suspension. Always trying to show me life from a different perspective. And I always refused. I looked at her lifeless body. She wasn’t there anymore. That same day, the coroner’s office came. They wrapped her body and carried it out. I watched everything from the bedroom door. Once again, my uncle was kind and discreet—I saw him pull the men aside and hand them some cash. Uncle Thales had always been good to me, but I always saw him only as an uncle. For someone like me, who longed for her father to come back and take her away, a stepfather just wasn’t enough. I need to know who my father is. What’s his name? What does he like? Am I like him? Because I am nothing like my mother. Not in looks, not in personality—we were always at odds. Why did he never come for me? Why did he leave? The funeral was arranged quickly. After the farewells, I was embraced by neighbors, acquaintances, and a few close classmates. But mostly, I stayed in the arms of my uncle. “Do you know the last thing I told your mother?” he asked me on a gray, rainy day. I shook my head. “That everything would stay the same, except now I’d take care of you, and you’d take care of me.” I gave him a faint smile, my face heavy with emotion. He was always there—his pale yellowish skin, green eyes, light brown hair, a bit chubby. I loved my mother, but the secret surrounding my father haunts me. Every memory I struggle to hold onto slips through my fingers. I was forgetting everything about him. All I had left was the image of a black-stone ring on his finger, buried in my memory. And now the only person who could’ve told me the truth was gone—taking the biggest secret of my life to the grave. Everything about my father. Two months passed quickly after her death, and really, nothing had changed—except her absence. My uncle truly did take care of me. “Diana, come eat breakfast!” he called. I was already awake, updating my playlist for biology and English class. At least I’d passed that one. After my mother died, I left the parties behind and pulled myself together. My eighteenth birthday was just a week away. I added darker tones to my wardrobe. Lately, I found myself drawn to slow songs, lost in thought, trying not to forget my father—and now, my mother. Once my playlist was updated, I got out of bed, tied my hair up in a ponytail, grabbed my orange-print backpack, and ran downstairs in my black sneakers and school uniform—a burgundy plaid skirt and a white shirt with the school’s insignia. I saw him, the white man with green eyes, sitting at the table. He smiled when he saw me, lifting his light-brown mustache, as always reading his newspaper with great patience. “Good morning, Uncle Thales,” I greeted. He had promised to take care of me—and he was doing it. “Good morning, Diana. I made scrambled eggs, just how you like them.” I smiled, didn’t even sit at the table. I grabbed a bread roll, pulled out the soft center, stuffed it with the eggs he’d made, and took a bite. I was running late for English class. Mr. Mark, strict as always, wouldn’t let me in after the bell. “Diana, please sit down. School isn’t going anywhere—it’s just a block from here.” He didn’t get it. Before my mom passed, I’d been skipping class, wasting time. I was at risk of failing. Now I was trying to catch up. “No, Uncle, school’s not going anywhere. But if I’m late, they’ll kick me out of class.” I replied with my mouth full, making him roll his eyes and sigh. “Bye!” I called as I headed toward the living room. I could feel his eyes on me all the way to the door. I smiled to myself when I saw Paola waiting in her uniform with her lilac backpack slung over her shoulder. I ran toward her and we walked together, as always, heading to school. “Ready for today?” I asked brightly, until she tilted her chin toward the other side of the street. I didn’t look—I already knew who it was. He was always there, watching us. “Let’s just forget it. I don’t want to see that i***t’s face this early.” I walked arm-in-arm with my friend toward the classroom. Forgetting Paulo, my first love, hadn’t been easy. But after he told everyone at school he’d been my first, when it wasn’t even true, he lost my heart. He had been so close, so easy to love—and he threw it all away. After my mother’s death, we drifted even further apart. He tried to reconcile, but to me, he was just an i***t now. “Good morning, girls!” he said as he passed us. I completely ignored him. “Good morning, Paulo,” Cristina replied. I sighed in resignation. But before I could say anything, he stood right in front of me. “Diana, how long are you going to keep playing these childish games?” I looked into his blue eyes, his smooth white skin, his dark brown hair slicked back, that fine nose. Wearing the school uniform, looking as handsome as ever—and he knew it. But I didn’t owe him forgiveness. He tried to touch my chin, and I pulled back. “How long do you think I should play this little game, huh? Tell me—if you already went around saying we did something we didn’t just because you put your mouth on my breasts, what would you say if we actually had s*x?” I said it loud and clear, and everyone was stunned. I was tired of the whispers, the sideways glances. He turned red and awkward in front of me. “Diana…” I smiled. That was all the answer he was going to get. Everyone knew I had no filter. Suddenly, I felt a tug on my sleeve. I turned to see Paola by my side, discreetly glancing forward while tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Oh no… No…” I knew it. I did it again. Professor Mark was still standing near his desk, eyes fixed on us. This would not end well. And Uncle Thales would definitely hear about it by the afternoon. Hours Later “How could you, Diana? I trusted you, I always defended you to your mother—and look at you! While I was standing up for you at home, what were you doing?” I shook my head, sitting on the couch. It was the first time I’d ever seen my uncle so agitated, pacing back and forth, his voice never stopping. “Uncle, it’s not like that, I... I... I was already dating Paulo for a while...” My voice faded as he stared at me, listening. His eyes were wild, hurt. “So, you were already dating Paulo?” I nodded, and in that moment, his hand struck the side of my face. It burned with the sting of surprise, sharper than anything I’d ever felt. It wasn’t the first slap I’d received—my mother had hit me before in the heat of our constant fights—but it was the first time he had ever laid a hand on me. I brought my hand to my face, tears already streaming down. “What did you just do?” His tone confirmed it—yes, he had hit me. “What do you think I am? Santa Claus? I help you with your homework, I feed you, I buy your clothes, and for what? What, do you think you’re Cinderella, Diana?” I shook my head, my cheek still burning. “From now on, you’re not going near that boy again. Straight home after school. And if you defy me, don’t even try to see my worst side, Diana. I swear, you’ll regret it bitterly if you force me to show it.” As he got closer, I noticed his eyes were red. In the thirteen years I’d known him, I had never seen him so unhinged. “What’s going to happen to me, Uncle? Am I going to fail school? I need to study. Is this how you promised to take care of me?” He nodded, smiling, and that scared me. But I am Diana Fontenele—I wouldn’t let him break me. “No. You can’t do this. I’m turning eighteen next week, and you’re not my father!” He stood with his hands on his hips. “No, I’m not. Never wanted to be your father. Diana, go ahead, try walking through that door. Let’s see if anyone on this street—knowing your reputation as a terrible daughter, all the headaches you gave your mother—will help you run away from me. What are you going to say? That I hit you? That I forbade you to go out?” I shook my head. With all the arguments my mom and I had before she died, no one around here would believe me. But still, I stood up. He spun on his heels in fury. I didn’t recognize the man standing in front of me. His hands came to my chest, shoving me back onto the couch. “Sit. Down!” At the first chance I got, I ran to my room. I slammed the door shut quickly, before he could make it up the stairs. I didn’t know what he was capable of at that moment. Next week, I’ll be of legal age. I’ll be free of him. I’ll take control of my own life.