La Scena Due

Angelo D'Ambrosia was a Made Man. He was born on the island of Sardinia in 1952, in the small comune of Uras. Being the eldest of five siblings, he was accustomed to the leadership role he would inevitably be thrust into later on in his adult life.

Just two weeks shy of his twelfth birthday, Angelo's father deserted his family. Perhaps the labors of caring for a family were too much, perhaps his own inadequacies had just caught up to him, but after that day, Angelo never saw his father again.

Having no other alternative, Angelo was forced to drop out of school and work to support his family. He found jobs in the larger comunes, warehousesand factories with deplorable conditions, and even shittier bosses, but he and his family were alive, and at the time that's all that mattered.

And then Angelo met them...

They called themselves the Uominis, a closely knit circle of men who enjoyed a considerably better standard of living than the other citizens of his city. They always wore the most expensive clothing, drove the nicest cars, and fornicated with the sexiest women. There had always been rumors of them being affiliated with the Cosa Nostra, but they always managed to be where the evidence...and bodies, were not.

One of the men, Luigi Denaro, had owned the factory where Angelo was working at the time. Unlike the other young laborers, Luigi had saw something in Angelo, ambition...fire, the drive to succeed and better ones self...by any means. Angelo could still recall the old mans voice, ruptured by years of cigarette abuse but still possessing a strong bass quality...

“You ever want some extra cash kid, stop by the warehouse tonight...”

Angelo's family never asked where the extra money came from, but he could see the look of shame in his mothers eyes. It was a silent protest against what her son had become, a look she bore through her him until the day she passed...

Indeed, his lifestyle was against everything his mother and the church had taught him, full of sin and vice, but Angelo had made a promise to himself...after years of wearing rags, working in the filth and grime, countless hungry nights and the insecurities of not even knowing if there would be a roof over your head the next morning...Angelo swore to himself that himself and his own would never suffer again.

And indeed, as Angelo briskly strolled down the sterile halls of Pantheon, wearing a stark black Calvin Klein tuxedo and matching silk shirt, full length Georgio Armani trench coat and topping it off with a Bailey Quay Straw Fedora, life had giving him the best in material possessions. After years of working under the Uominis, he now had it all; the best clothing, the fastest cars and even faster women...

And a dead wife and daughter in need of help...

Angelo came to a set of double doors which led to the facilities recreation area. He scanned the room through the wire framed glass, trying to locate his daughter amongst the other white clad patients. Having no luck, he grasped the metal handles and made his way inside of the room.

Despite its status as a mental health institute, Pantheon was known for its pseudo archaic architecture, giving it an ancient yet luxurious look. Five clear mosaic windows were set in the back of the rec room, letting its occupants stare over the immaculately groomed lawns and beyond to the Californian wilderness. Twenty five cloth covered tables were arranged spaciously around to accommodate personal space, each table sporting a different board game.

Despite it being nearly fifty people in the rec room, noise was kept to a minimum. Some residents whispered amongst each other or to themselves, while others sat as still as statues, lost in the docility of their own mind...

“Daddy!”

A voice cried out from across the room. Angelo spotted his daughter Mona sitting alone, merrily waving to him like an eager five year old.

Any questions of whether they were father and daughter could be answered by looking at the two together. They both shared the same mousy brown hair, though Angelo's was streaked with copious amounts of gray, shapely defined nose, and deep dimples when they smiled; she was his gem, the only true thing which he felt pride over anymore.

But even now as he pulled a chair up to her to sit down, Angelo could tell that life in the facility was not going well for her. Her once olive complexion was gone, replaced with a pale visage bordering on snow white, and dark circles under scored her delicate almond shaped eyes.

“Oh mia figlia.” Angelo swept his daughter in his arms and embraced her. “Are you getting enough sun? Are you being treated right?” The fatherly instincts of Angelo were taking over as he gingerly brushed a strand of hair from his daughters forehead.

“Daddy, I'm fine...stop it.” Her attempts to soothe her father did not stop him from clutching his daughters hand as if she were the last sacred thing on Earth.

“Happy Birthday beautiful.” Angelo said, still clutching her hand. “I got you something.” Angelo reached into his trench coat and pulled out a heart shaped locket, its chain and surface gleaming of pure gold and diamonds around its fringe.

Mona's eyes shot wide with surprise as the heart hovered in front of her. “It's not exactly the pony I wanted...but wow!” Slowly, she reached for it and grasped the cool surface of the heart in her slender fingers. “Daddy...it's beautiful.”

Angelo draped the locket around his daughters neck, putting all of his trust, faith, and protection into the innocuous movement as if he were christening her with a Halo. The heart shaped pendant fell across her chest and she immediately went to open it.

“NO!” Angelo stopped her hands from undoing the latch. A moment of silence befell the two of them, augmented by an uncomfortable stare.

“Why can't I open it?”

Angelo sighed. “Miele, have you been taking your medication?”

Mona seemed surprised by the question, but her initial reaction melted into a look of guilt. “Well...not really, Gabriela said they were doing no good.”

Angelo chose his next words very carefully. “Mona...don't listen to Gabriela. She isn't helping you.”

“But- - - - -”

“But nothing. Please, take your medication.” Angelo gently caressed the heart shaped locket dangling from Mona's neck. “I want you to promise me something...”

“Anything daddy.”

Angelo unconsciously fingered the latch of the pendant, every fiber of his being wanting so desperately to see her picture one more time. “Promise me you won't open this locket. You won't open it until you're alright.”

“Alright from what?”

Angelo felt the beginnings of tears creep into his eyes. The pendant seemed to glow under his finger tips, so many years of history behind it. “From Gabriela...”

And with that he rose from his seat and gently kissed Mona's forehead. “I've got to be going.”

“I love you daddy.” Mona said, her child like demeanor belieing her age.

“I love you too sweetheart. And remember...take your medication.”

As Angelo got up to leave he found himself recalling Mona's words. “Gabriela said they were doing no good...”

Gabriela...

The very name still haunting his soul, and apparently his daughters too...

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

From across the room a lone figure watched the D'Ambrosia's, particularly Mona. He studied her every action, noting the slumped, defeated arch of her back and passive actions. He watched as her father kissed her forehead and exited the room. She was all alone, vulnerable...but now was not the time. Konstantinos sat...and waited...