The Godfather - Puzo Mario - Страница 104

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Kay had observed before that when Connie spoke about her husband in relation to the Family, she was always nervously eager for some word of approval for Carlo. Kay would have been stupid if she had not noticed the almost terrified concern Connie had for whether Michael liked Carlo or not. One night she spoke to Michael about it and mentioned the fact that nobody ever spoke about Sonny Corleone, nobody even referred to him; at least not in her presence. Kay had once tried to express her condolences to the Don and his wife and had been listened to with almost rude silence and then ignored. She had tried to get Connie talking about her older brother without success.

Sonny’s wife, Sandra, had taken her children and moved to Florida, where her own parents now lived. Certain financial arrangements had been made so that she and her children could live comfortably, but Sonny had left no estate.

Michael reluctantly explained what had happened the night Sonny was killed. That Carlo had beaten his wife and Connie had called the mall and Sonny had taken the call and rushed out in a blind rage. So naturally Connie and Carlo were always nervous that the rest of the Family blamed her for indirectly causing Sonny’s death. Or blamed her husband, Carlo. But this wasn’t the case. The proof was that they had given Connie and Carlo a house in the mall itself and promoted Carlo to an important job in the labor union setup. And Carlo had straightened out, stopped drinking, stopped whoring, stopped trying to be a wise guy. The Family was pleased with his work and attitude for the last two years. Nobody blamed him for what had happened.

“Then why don’t you invite them over some evening and you can reassure your sister?” Kay said. “The poor thing is always so nervous about what you think of her husband. Tell her. And tell her to put those silly worries out of her head.”

“I can’t do that,” Michael said. “We don’t talk about those things in our family.”

“Do you want me to tell her what you’ve told me?” Kay said.

She was puzzled because he took such a long time thinking over a suggestion that was obviously the proper thing to do. Finally he said, “I don’t think you should, Kay. I don’t think it will do any good. She’ll worry anyway. It’s something nobody can do anything about.”

Kay was amazed. She realized that Michael was always a little colder to his sister Connie than he was to anyone else, despite Connie’s affection. “Surely you don’t blame Connie for Sonny being killed?” she said.

Michael sighed. “Of course not,” he said. “She’s my kid sister and I’m very fond of her. I feel sorry for her. Carlo straightened out, but he’s really the wrong kind of husband. It’s just one of those things. Let’s forget about it.”

It was not in Kay’s nature to nag; she let it drop. Also she had learned that Michael was not a man to push, that he could become coldly disagreeable. She knew she was the only person in the world who could bend his will, but she also knew that to do it too often would be to destroy that power. And living with him the last two years had made her love him more.

She loved him because he was always fair. An odd thing. But he always was fair to everybody around him, never arbitrary even in little things. She had observed that he was now a very powerful man, people came to the house to confer with him and ask favors, treating him with deference and respect but one thing had endeared him to her above everything else.

Ever since Michael had come back from Sicily with his broken face, everybody in the Family had tried to get him to undergo corrective surgery. Michael’s mother was after him constantly; one Sunday dinner with all the Corleones gathered on the mall she shouted at Michael, “You look like a gangster in the movies, get your face fixed for the sake of Jesus Christ and your poor wife. And so your nose will stop running like a drunken Irish.”

The Don, at the head of the table, watching everything, said to Kay, “Does it bother you?”

Kay shook her head. The Don said to his wife. “He’s out of your hands, it’s no concern of yours.” The old woman immediately held her peace. Not that she feared her husband but because it would have been disrespectful to dispute him in such a matter before the others.

But Connie, the Don’s favorite, came in from the kitchen, where she was cooking the Sunday dinner, her face flushed from the stove, and said, “I think he should get his face fixed. He was the most handsome one in the family before he got hurt. Come on, Mike, say you’ll do it.”

Michael looked at her in an absentminded fashion. It seemed as if he really and truly had not heard anything said. He didn’t answer.

Connie came to stand beside her father. “Make him do it,” she said to the Don. Her two hands rested affectionately on his shoulders and she rubbed his neck. She was the only one who was ever so familiar with the Don. Her affection for her father was touching. It was trusting, like a little girl’s. The Don patted one of her hands and said, “We’re all starving here. Put the spaghetti on the table and then chatter.”

Connie turned to her husband and said, “Carlo, you tell Mike to get his face fixed. Maybe he’ll listen to you.” Her voice implied that Michael and Carlo Rizzi had some friendly relationship over and above anyone else’s.

Carlo, handsomely sunburned, blond hair neatly cut and combed, sipped at his glass of homemade wine and said, “Nobody can tell Mike what to do.” Carlo had become a different man since moving into the mall. He knew his place in the Family and kept to it.

There was something that Kay didn’t understand in all this, something that didn’t quite meet the eye. As a woman she could see that Connie was deliberately charming her father, though it was beautifully done and even sincere. Yet it was not spontaneous. Carlo’s reply had been a manly knuckling of his forehead. Michael had absolutely ignored everything.

Kay didn’t care about her husband’s disfigurement but she worried about his sinus trouble which sprang from it. Surgery repair of the face would cure the sinus also. For that reason she wanted Michael to enter the hospital and get the necessary work done. But she understood that in a curious way he desired his disfigurement. She was sure that the Don understood this too.

But after Kay gave birth to her first child, she was surprised by Michael asking her, “Do you want me to get my face fixed?”

Kay nodded. “You know how kids are, your son will feel bad about your face when he gets old enough to understand it’s not normal. I just don’t want our child to see it. I don’t mind at all, honestly, Michael.”

“OK.” He smiled at her. “I’ll do it.”

He waited until she was home from the hospital and then made all the necessary arrangements. The operation was successful. The cheek indentation was now just barely noticeable.

Everybody in the Family was delighted, but Connie more so than anyone. She visited Michael every day in the hospital, dragging Carlo along. When Michael came home, she gave him a big hug and a kiss and looked at him admiringly and said, “Now you’re my handsome brother again.”

Only the Don was unimpressed, shrugging his shoulders and remarking, “What’s the difference?”

But Kay was grateful. She knew that Michael had done it against all his own inclinations. Had done it because she had asked him to, and that she was the only person in the world who could make him act against his own nature.

On the afternoon of Michael’s return from Vegas, Rocco Lampone drove the limousine to the mall to pick up Kay so that she could meet her husband at the airport. She always met her husband when he arrived from out of town, mostly because she felt lonely without him, living as she did in the fortified mall.

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