Animus by S. W. Frank

saying, what if you would have shot that lady and then f ound out she didn’t do anything wrong, I mean that would suck, right?”
    Nico scoffed. “I don’t go back and recheck facts. If I killed her, she’s dead. End of story. Once you start regret ting one killing, you start a downward spiral.”
    “Are you seriously that cold Uncle or are you trying to scare me and shit?”
    “You should have gotten scared a long time ago.” Nico walked faster in a hurry to get to the car and away from his talkative nephew.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
     
     
    Sophie and Amelda were in the room waiting for Giuseppe to open his eyes. Seventy-two hours had passed –yesterday. The doctor said his vitals remained stable, no subdural hemorrhaging was seen on the latest CT scan, therefore the prognosis was good, unless Giuseppe awoke and there were neurological changes undetected by the tests. They had begun to wean him off the meds and the ventilator, this was now the fourth day of their waiting and yet Giuseppe had failed to wake. She went home to change and returned praying he’d open his eyes and say, “Mama…mama.” Those are the words she wanted to hear.
    Fear set in. A mother’s nightmare was her son never speak ing or walking, but only sleep. She’d said good-bye to Selange in the fog of the stressful days. Her love for the woman surpassed any feelings she had for her friend. Oh, that Shanda had stolen her grandson, promised to call to check on Giuseppe, but she hadn’t. She swore, oh how she promised that Shanda would meet her fury if she continued to keep her grandson away. The most important thing at the moment was her son. He required a mother’s serenity, absent of storms.
    The specialist, along with other medical staff hovered to assess the patient once he awoke. But he didn’t. This was day five.
    Sophie gripped Amelda’s hand. Her fingers tightened around her daughters for strength. Her eyes were on her son’s face willing him to wake up. She missed Carlo in that moment, and yearned for his presence. In a mother’s vigil, a door opened and the man who walked to her side, hugged mother and daughter, bringing strength and faith. The eyes of Giuseppe’s brother, lighter and an effervescent blue could see. He did not need words to understand the situation. Something was wrong, or else Giuseppe would have awakened.
    He rubbed their spines. “He’ll come out of it. Geo’s tough.”
    He released them and walked to Giuseppe who breathed with an oxygen mask. The doctors dispersed respectfully to the hall. Alfonzo scoffed, looked down at his brother whose eyelashes fluttered like wings. He was fighting to get loose from the hold of sleep. It is the hand of a brother, touching another in solidarity and the timbre of a mountain speaking in a shared language that quieted a mother’s fears. “ Mio fratello, sangue che amo. Ho bisogno di te. Papà ci ha derubato entrambi, ma abbiamo cominciato a recuperare il tempo perduto. Sulla tomba dei nostri antenati, si prega di restituire alla tua famiglia.”
    Sophie wiped the wetness from her cheeks during Alfonzo’s speech. “My brother, blood I love. I need you. Papa robbed us both but we have begun to make up for lost time. On the grave of our ancestors, please return to your family.”
    No immediate reaction came, and then Alfonzo felt Giuseppe’s hand gripping his. The nerves in his arm caught fire when his brother tightened his fingers around Alfonzo’s wrist. The eyes on his face were like seeing the sky when sight is gained. Despite his pain Alfonzo leaned over to kiss Giuseppe’s cheeks. A weight so heavy had lifted causing a broken chest to heave involuntarily and Alfonzo sobbed.
    Sophie and Amelda rushed to Alfonzo. Their arms and bodies pressed his spine. They clutched hold; their cheeks touched the cloth of his suit jacket, his solid body, firm pillows of warmth. Only once had they witnessed Alfonzo’s passionate love. Today