Mom touched my cheek. “No, you don’t. I’m glad you realize that. And that’s not what I meant.”
I nodded because I understood what she meant. “I would have found out eventually.”
“Maybe. But this was a very brutal way to find out. It’s a lot to take in.”
I didn’t deny it. I hadn’t dared to fall asleep after all. When I was dried off, I put on my fluffy bunny pajamas, seeking their familiar comfort. Mom grabbed something from the shelf and held out my stuffed rabbit. I’d had it all my life but recently I hadn’t cuddled with it anymore. I took it from her.
“What can I do?” I whispered, clutching my stuffed rabbit to my chest. It was soft and white.
Mom sighed, looking exhausted. She probably hadn’t slept these last two days either. “Love them.”
When Mom and I emerged from the bathroom, Dad and Nino were waiting for us in my bedroom. Dad scanned my face with furrowed brows, his dark eyes cautious, as if he worried I’d bolt again.
Mom ignored both of them and helped me get into bed. She pressed a kiss to my forehead then she straightened.
“Go to bed and get some rest. I’ll join you when I’ve talked to Greta,” Dad said to Mom. She didn’t look at him, only at me. “Do you want me to stay?”
Anger filled Dad’s eyes.
“No, go sleep.”
Mom hesitated but then she nodded and turned around. Dad held her by the wrist when she tried to pass him. Mom sent him a scathing look. He released her and she slipped out but left the door ajar.
Nino gave Dad a look I didn’t understand. They often shared these moments. Dad approached me and sank down on the bed, then he motioned at the glass of water and plate with scrambled tofu and toast on the nightstand. I emptied half of the glass and nibbled at the toast. “Nino is going to check you now.”
I nodded, because I knew Dad wouldn’t accept a no in this case and it was the reasonable thing to do anyway. I didn’t want my wounds to get infected. If my foot stopped me from dancing that would be unfathomable. I knew I’d have to spend many nights alone in my ballet studio to get over this.
Nino sank down on the other side of the bed. “I’m going to start with the cut under your ribs.”
I lifted my pajama top enough for him to see the small slash I’d inflicted on myself. Nino was careful as he cleaned and taped it. “We had the man tested for possible diseases since the knife you used was contaminated with his blood but he was clean.”
His voice was matter-of-fact, professional, something I usually appreciated. Whenever I needed a neutral opinion or wanted to truly understand something I asked Nino, but today I couldn’t bear his emotionless tone. He moved on to the cut in my foot without missing a beat.
“How does it feel to hurt someone so badly that they pled for death when you could save them with your abilities instead?” I asked softly.
Nino’s fingers halted on my foot. He glanced up at me then at Dad.
Whatever passed between them, they obviously decided Dad should answer.
“He deserved death.”
“By whose standards?” I asked.
“Mine. They are the only standards that matter.”
I stared into Dad’s unwavering eyes. I couldn’t detect a hint of guilt or doubt in them. I’d known he was Capo all my life. It had taken a long time to understand what it meant, and I still wasn’t sure I knew everything. I’d never understood people who chose obliviousness over information, who weren’t driven by strong curiosity to know everything. Maybe I was slowly getting there.
“Do you want me to explain why?”
“No,” I said firmly. “It won’t change the way I think.”
“You can’t know that,” Nino interjected.
“I have my convictions.”
Nino rose to his feet and began to put everything back into his medical kit. “That’s a luxury not everyone is allowed.”
Silence settled in the room. Nino closed the kit and looked at Dad for a moment whose expression was a mask of control. Their silent interactions often reminded me of Nevio and I, but Dad and Nino’s thought process was more similar than mine and Nevio’s.