“I’ve not met him yet.”
“Don’t hold your breath on that one.”
“Oh… is he not on speaking terms with you?”
“You could say that.” It’s silent for a breath as we near the tree trunk, and then he leans over to me. “He’s dead.”
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”
“Nah. It’s okay. Towards the last few years of his life, he got caught with the wrong crowd. Grew resentful of all of us, I think. Especially Vince. He was always short-tempered. Never really got along with anyone. The Russians, they kinda recruited him. So…”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. It’s what you sometimes get in our family. Everyone in the Sicilian mafia has their moment.” He grabs a branch off the ground and begins swinging it up towards a ladder that’s trapped over a tree branch.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, sometimes people have to choose who they should be and who they are.” He grunts as he swings the branch and jumps towards the ladder.
“And Carlito, he was always bad?”
“I don’t know.” He puffs and swings one more time. This time the rope ladder swings down, perfectly laying against the tree, though it’s a little short.
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“About Carlito?”
“Yeah.”
“Hm.” He rests his fists on his hips as he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think people are good or bad. I just mean that Carlito was always a certain way, and he made choices out of spite that led him down a path he maybe didn’t intend.”
“So, who are you then?” He hands me the ladder as I ask my question. He inhales deeply as I begin to climb.
“I don’t know. I hope I’m someone who adds value to the world.”
“You definitely are,” I assure him, continuing to climb as he follows me.
“Thanks.” I hear the smile in his voice, and I glance down to look at him. This is a mistake because I can now see how far we are off the ground, and I stop climbing completely.
“What’s wrong?” He asks as he reaches for my leg to hold me in place.
“We’re really high up.”
“Yeah. It’s a treehouse. Wait, are you afraid of heights.”
“I guess I am.”
“You guess?”
“I’ve never climbed anything before….” I shake my head, clinging closer to the tree trunk.
“Look up.”
“I doubt that will help—”
“Just, trust me.” I pause at those words because I wonder if I do trust him. Wonder if he trusts me too, or if his trust is misplaced. In a way, it is. But I don’t mean for this to be the case. I grit my teeth and push away the thought as my fingers begin to sting from the rough rope. With hesitancy, I glance up and can see I’m about two steps away from the entrance.
“You think you can do it?”