since the nurse had left her room, but she guessed it couldn’t have been more than five minutes. She was making good timing. I just need one more break. God, let there be a cab. There was. Coming out the front doors of St. Knox’s with Gabe held tightly, she spotted a yellow taxi with “1-800-CAB-FOR-U” in large black letters on its side. Climbing into the back, she gave the cabby her address. Though she had no money on her, she promised him payment plus a tip if he’d cut a new mom a break. The cabby agreed.
------------------------------------------------
Roman law may have ended its political rule centuries ago, but it still influenced the Mafia in the twentieth century. The mob’s origins in southern Italy and Sicily caused the mob’s power structure to be molded by nearby Roman culture. According to Roman law, the empire could only be handed down to a male heir, usually the firstborn son. (This rule had forced Julius Caesar to adopt his great-nephew Augustus, so that the Roman Empire could remain intact.) The mob’s close proximity to Rome secured the Mafia’s belief that the Family business should be preserved throughout the generations with male posterity.
------------------------------------------------
Several years later (and closer to the present)…
He was seven, a few years older than August. He was playing on the swing set in his backyard. Faster and faster, higher and higher, the airplane that was his chain linked swing took him to other places, other worlds. As Gabe pretended to blast off for South America, where he and his mom would soon be moving so that she could teach English as a second language, a limo pulled up alongside the front yard (it was too long to fit in the driveway), in front of the Fallons’ small, grey vinyl siding home in Roxbury, one of Boston’s poorer neighborhoods. Gabe saw five men in long black overcoats hustle out of the car and walk towards the front of his house, out of sight from his view in the backyard. Four of the men looked younger than the fifth man, who had large brown moles on his forehead’s receding hairline and a face creased with tortured wrinkles and crevices.
Inside his house, Rocko and Bingo, the respective father and mother of three new Dalmatian pups, snarled and barked. Pop! Pop! The dogs went silent. At the sound of gunfire, Roxbury’s other residents, accustomed to minding their own business during these ordeals, left their lawnmowers, gardening tools, and bicycles outside and quickly sought shelter indoors. When the mob made a house call, it was safer to stay out of sight.
Gabe next heard his mom pleading, “No, no, no, no!” coming from the screen door at the house’s rear. He wasn’t sure what was going on. He didn’t know what the men from the long car were doing in his house, but he could tell that his mom was scared and upset. He’d stopped swinging and stayed deathly still, too frightened to go inside and find out what was happening. When his mom’s protests ended, one of the men from the limo, the older one, opened the kitchen door leading to the Fallons’ backyard and emerged with a slow and purposeful gait that spoke of expecting to have things his way. Gabe, still seated on his swing, saw that the approaching man was looking directly at him with a curious grin. The guy, early-fifties, wore a black overcoat like the others from the limo, sported a modern looking black hat, and his black gloves carried a toy. A teddy bear. His smile broadened to the size of a car salesman’s greeting, as he walked towards Gabe.
“Hey, kid. How’s it going?”
Gabe didn’t know what to say to this stranger standing before him. He was pretty sure that this man and his friends had just hurt his mom and shot his dogs. He wished his swing would turn into an actual rocket so he could blast off for real this time.
“Name’s Victor Adelaide. What’s
------------------------------------------------
Roman law may have ended its political rule centuries ago, but it still influenced the Mafia in the twentieth century. The mob’s origins in southern Italy and Sicily caused the mob’s power structure to be molded by nearby Roman culture. According to Roman law, the empire could only be handed down to a male heir, usually the firstborn son. (This rule had forced Julius Caesar to adopt his great-nephew Augustus, so that the Roman Empire could remain intact.) The mob’s close proximity to Rome secured the Mafia’s belief that the Family business should be preserved throughout the generations with male posterity.
------------------------------------------------
Several years later (and closer to the present)…
He was seven, a few years older than August. He was playing on the swing set in his backyard. Faster and faster, higher and higher, the airplane that was his chain linked swing took him to other places, other worlds. As Gabe pretended to blast off for South America, where he and his mom would soon be moving so that she could teach English as a second language, a limo pulled up alongside the front yard (it was too long to fit in the driveway), in front of the Fallons’ small, grey vinyl siding home in Roxbury, one of Boston’s poorer neighborhoods. Gabe saw five men in long black overcoats hustle out of the car and walk towards the front of his house, out of sight from his view in the backyard. Four of the men looked younger than the fifth man, who had large brown moles on his forehead’s receding hairline and a face creased with tortured wrinkles and crevices.
Inside his house, Rocko and Bingo, the respective father and mother of three new Dalmatian pups, snarled and barked. Pop! Pop! The dogs went silent. At the sound of gunfire, Roxbury’s other residents, accustomed to minding their own business during these ordeals, left their lawnmowers, gardening tools, and bicycles outside and quickly sought shelter indoors. When the mob made a house call, it was safer to stay out of sight.
Gabe next heard his mom pleading, “No, no, no, no!” coming from the screen door at the house’s rear. He wasn’t sure what was going on. He didn’t know what the men from the long car were doing in his house, but he could tell that his mom was scared and upset. He’d stopped swinging and stayed deathly still, too frightened to go inside and find out what was happening. When his mom’s protests ended, one of the men from the limo, the older one, opened the kitchen door leading to the Fallons’ backyard and emerged with a slow and purposeful gait that spoke of expecting to have things his way. Gabe, still seated on his swing, saw that the approaching man was looking directly at him with a curious grin. The guy, early-fifties, wore a black overcoat like the others from the limo, sported a modern looking black hat, and his black gloves carried a toy. A teddy bear. His smile broadened to the size of a car salesman’s greeting, as he walked towards Gabe.
“Hey, kid. How’s it going?”
Gabe didn’t know what to say to this stranger standing before him. He was pretty sure that this man and his friends had just hurt his mom and shot his dogs. He wished his swing would turn into an actual rocket so he could blast off for real this time.
“Name’s Victor Adelaide. What’s
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