CH 21: The Funeral

~ New York 1927 ~

Within a couple of days, Esme was on a train back to New York. She had been uprooted once again from a place that was beginning to feel like home. The sound of the rain hitting the train car comforted her in her thoughts. It was a dull, patient tap that soothed her heartrate and grounded her within the present moment. 

Every time she let her mind wonder, she would imagine the life behind her sister's eyes. She couldn't believe she was gone. Her one source of happiness and purity, gone. The more she thought of whatever Vinny did to her, the more she wished he was still alive for her to feel the knife squishing in his flesh again. 

Was he humane enough to sedate her before he began his ministrations, or did she feel everything? Did she really cry out for her, or was that a sadistic trick by the coward himself? 

Lost in thought, looking out the window, Esme reflects on the night she called her father to alert him to what happened.

~ Louisiana, 1927 ~

Esme had headed back to her house the next morning, per the escort of the local police. She was on emotional overload, breaking into tears once stepping foot into the home. Everywhere she looked, she saw Margo and their memories together. She saw how scared she looked when they first walked in the house, how panicked she looked pacing about the boy next door, and how giddy she was when Alastor send Esme the rose. She thanked the police for securing her house and kindly asked for some time alone. As soon as the police left, Esme went to the wall and picked up the landline phone, dialing for her father. Her voice getting stuck in her throat when he answered.

"Hello?"

"...Hi Pop, i -it's me .. Esme." She sniffled, dreading having to be the one to break this news. Her father trusted her with his youngest. She was supposed to be the one to keep her safe, and she had failed because she got too comfortable.

"My darling, what's wrong?" He sounded concerned. He stood in his office, gripping the telephone cord with anticipation. Of course there was a risk in sending both of his daughters miles down South, but he had rarely heard Esme's voice quiver in such a way. It sent his stomach tightening in an uncomfortable knot. 

"Jimmy's son paid a visit to us." 

"The damn bastard, well, are you okay? Do you need protection?"

"Pa..." She was loathing this part, "He got Margo." There's a pause. Esme can hear her father's voice shaking.

"I'll send some men over, we'll get her back I -"

"No, he got her. Margo is gone." He begins to cry hysterically, dropping the phone and falling to his knees. Esme closes her eyes as she hears the shattering of glass from the phone. He had began to throw every picture frame, every memento across the room in a rage. Her mother ran in, "Frank, what on earth happened?!" There was another pause before Esme's mother let out a guttural scream that no mother should ever have to experience. Esme removed the phone from her ear and squeezed it tightly, holding it to her chest.

Within 24 hours, Esme was placed on a train back to New York for Margo's funeral. Her father's men showing up at her doorstep to bring her to the station. As Esme is approaching the train, she looks back at the crowd of people and her eyes lock on a pair of crimson eyes staring at her from a nearby car. She twirled her ring around her finger and smiled sadly as she boarded the train. 

He wouldn't dare reveal himself to her family, not yet. It's not like he could board the train car with her anyhow, and even know he heard great things of The Big Apple, adding his presence to the mix would only be worse for her. 

He shall watch her from the shadows.

~ New York 1927 ~

"Ms. Esme, we're here." A voice cuts through her thoughts. Looking up, Esme sees the familiar sight of Manhattan in the distance. Tears immediately coming to her eyes. Usually, the sight of her home brought comfort and joy. Now, lady liberty brought her a pained ache in her chest.

She gets up and hands her luggage to one of her father's men, slowly walking off the train. As she walks down the stairs of the train car, she sees her mother standing there. The poor thing looks as skittish as humanly possible, fidgeting with her fingernails and frantically scanning each train car for her daughter. Esme flies off the train and sprints to her, hugging her tightly sobbing as soon as she reaches her. "Oh ma..." She sniffles.

Her mother holds her close to her frame, and for the first time in a long time, Esme feels truly secure. Gabriella was always a gentle, sweet soul, bringing a sense of ease to both of her girls in times of uncertainty. Her hand runs calmly back and forth over Esme's back, "My sweet girl. I know I should've never let you go to that dreadful place." The two cry while holding one another until Frank's men motions them to enter their car. 

They drive away to Esme's old tenement building on Mulberry street. She was already anticipating that there would be a mob of family members on her floor. Usually, when something as tragic as this happened, the different families of the circle came together to provide support. Oftentimes, the wives of those in charge would bring over food and necessary household supplies, offering their services to the lady of the house and taking a load off of her shoulders while they grieve. 

As she walks up the stairs, she sees a few familiar faces at the top of the stairwell. "Are those the...Romano twins?" She says, smiling softly. She hurries up the stairs faster than her legs can carry her, practically tripping on the concrete. 

"Esme, I missed you!" The little girl runs to her. She had golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes, a beautiful typical Northern Italian baby.

"Oh Marronna Mi (Oh sweet Mother Mary) Molly, look at you! You're so big." Esme beams, planting kisses all over the little girl's face. "Where's your broth-" before she can finish the sentence, a little boy runs up to her, burying his face in her chest. "There you are, little Angel." An affectionate nickname she had for him. She smiles down at him, "My, how old are you guys now?"

"Ten!" They both chime. Esme giggles, holding back tears. The two were beautiful, always around one another growing up. She used to babysit them both for some family  friends in Brooklyn years ago. She turns to Anthony, smiling sweetly, "You are very lucky to have your sister." She says softly. "You know what you do if anyone looks at her?" She asks, raising an eyebrow, testing him. Anthony smiles proudly and makes a swiping motion across his neck, "Attaboy." Esme smiles, ruffling his hair.

As they piled into the tenement apartment, the two children stayed glued to her side. Molly was now in Esme's arms, resting on her hip. Despite the fact that she was double digits, she always required a little extra affections, and Esme was in need of some loving cuddles. Anthony kept his eyes on her and fidgeted with the hem of his trousers, picking up on the intense energy of the home. 

The family's siren couldn't bring herself to look around the home, to see the hallways of their childhood without her heart running about. She kept her eyes pinned to the back of the living room, where an old couch laid. Without addressing anyone, she walks over and sits down, making sure to maintain deep, calm, breaths as the twins curl up next to her to provide their comfort. 

The next day is Margo's burial and funeral. Esme doesn't want to think of her father's reaction to receiving the lower portion of her body. Esme stands over Margo's burial sight, watching her casket being lowered into the earth. Esme's eyes are narrow, tears streaming down her face without any sound. She feels a little hand grab hers. She looks down and sees Molly resting her hand against her arm. Esme pulls her close, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. Anthony stands behind them with the other men of the family, his face stern, but Esme can tell he's holding back tears. They were always so rough on that poor boy. As everyone piles out of the cemetery, Esme remains at the site alone for a couple of moments. "I did it Margo, you won't have to worry about him hurting anyone else." She takes in a deep breath, dropping a rose to the dirt. "Ti Amo, sorellina (I love you little sister)." She whispers as she walks away to join her family.

A couple of days go by. Esme stays mostly in her room. She tries to go outside every now and then, but every street, every corner has a memory of her growing up with Margo. Tears come to her eyes as she sees the street where they used to play stickball in the summer, the church they went to school at, and central park where her mother would take them on walks. 

Esme sighs, standing up from her bed and fixing her hair. She stretches and joins her mother in the kitchen, where she smells her preparing the Sunday sauce. Esme smiles softly and begins to put up a pot of water for the pasta. She glances to the center of the room, seeing Anthony sitting at the table playing with jacks. His mother was spending some extra time with the Luciano's since Margo's death, to help and provide support. 

"Zia Esme!" He called out, "Wanna play with me?" A bright smile stretches on his face as he holds up a piece, "I'm pretty good." 

Oh, to be young and to bounce back from despair so easily. 

She walks over and pushes back the child's blonde locks, pressing a kiss to his head, "Not now, Angel, I have to chat with my mom. Is that okay?" He nods immediately, putting a hand to his mouth to mimic locking his lips. 

With a chuckle, Esme turns to the pot, sprinkling some salt into the water, "So ma, when do I go back to New Orleans?"

"You don't my doll, your father is moving us to New Jersey to be with our family."

Esme's eyes widen at her mother's words, "N-No please, I have to go back! Please, I can't stay here." She says, placing the wooden spoon on the stove with a loud bang.

"Dearest..." Her mother jumps, "Why would you want to return there? Your sister is gone, you belong with us where we can keep you safe."

Esme slams her hands on the stove, "I can't stay here, dammit!" Anthony jumps at the table, dropping his jacks on the floor. "Every street, every corner, she's standing there in my head! Lexington, Margo! Madison, Margo! Everywhere I look she's there - I CAN'T TAKE IT!" She has tears streaming down her face in desperation, "This isn't home anymore ma..." she whimpers.

"Darling Rose..." Her mother takes her hands, turning to Anthony, "Bambino, would you give us a moment?" She asks sweetly. Anthony nods and runs off to likely find his sister elsewhere. Esme's mother turns to her, "Would this have anything to do with that pretty little ring on your finger?" she smiles.

Esme freezes, "It's not what you think...just a ring I happened to pick up from the market is all. It fit that finger the best."

Her mother raises an eyebrow, "I'm not a stupid lady, amore. I've seen that look before. I've had that look before." She wipes her tears away from her face, "We can't protect you if you go back."

Esme whimpers, "You have to let me say goodbye." she whispers. Esme's mother smiles sadly.

"As a mother, it's my goal to make sure you blossom into a beautiful young lady that I not only love, but I like. My darling girl..." She squeezes her hands, "I'm so very proud of you, but this man can not protect you like your father can." Wanna bet, Ma? "Here..." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a two way ticket to New Orleans, "I had a feeling you'd ask. Go, say goodbye, gather your things, and come back."

"What about fa-"

"Don't worry about him. Now go." She smiles.

~ Author's Note ~ 

 I'm crying as I eat my own pasta writing this. Can you tell I'm Italian? LOL

🖤Words: 2145🖤

~ Artemis 🦌💗