The Garden of Eden

Digging the Grave a Little Deeper

Eden King

Carmine had let me go without much more conversation. He had arranged a flight for me before I even got home to pack or look at getting flights. I had 2 days there to figure out what I'm suppose to do, how I'm suppose to find upwards of £150,000. I don't have that kind of money put away. Some sure, but not enough. His debts have outlasted the time allotted and full payment or blood is the only option. Carmine also sent the address he is staying at and thank god because I hadn't even thought of that as I arrive at the airstrip.

I took my seat and set the documents I brought with me out. The one thing I'm good at, the one thing I still have control over is work. My comfort zone. Taxes were easy to deal with. There was only right and wrong, negatives and positives. There was nothing complex about numbers, unlike people who can make terrible decisions again and again. A mistake here can be fix. A decimal or a comma can right something but with people there so many consequences, so many options and no one ever thinks the same thing as another.

God dammit Michael.

I placed the pen down, everything started to blur on the paper as tears gathered in my eyes. I raised that boy. I brought him to school, helped with homework, made sure he ate and had everything he needed. I hid the shitty life we had, making sure I took all the worst things and only let him see the best and he does this.

I could have stayed in England, became a criminal lawyer and probably found a job. Something outside of the corporate life, one where I didn't need to hold my tongue or be pleasant. I would have been there and been able to tell him how stupid this is and how dangerous it is to get involved in gambling. There are so many things I could have done different. Should I have though? If I stayed would I have been content and even happy? I can't say happy is what I am now but I'm definitely content. I have a place, one where I excel and thrive. I have freedom and even a bit of power to exercise in the right places. I have all I ever wanted in Palermo.

Michael lives in a shit hole. The rundown building made my skin crawl and I couldn't bring myself to even touch the banister as I climbed the stairs to the 4th floor. My skin felt dirty from just being in the place.

4E.

The address hung a little crooked. One screw missing from the E making it tilt into the 4. I sucked it up and balled my fist to pound on the door. It's late, he could be out for all I know but hopefully not. I knocked again and again until finally after 30 minutes I gave up and leaned against the wall of peeling paint next to the door.

"He's usually out late, what do you want from him?" An older man stood in the doorway a few doors down. His pale skin looked sickly and his hands shook at his side.

"I need to talk to him."
"You aren't the first person that's come around in the last few days. I'd get in line."
"I'm his sister." His bitter resolve seemed to sway. He stepped to the side of the door way and nodded his head in.

"Come in for a cuppa, you might be waiting a while."

The old apartment was filled with furniture that looked just as old. It is clean though, I can finally breath without feeling like I'm going to catch something. I took a seat at the small table set next to the window. The view would be nice if it wasn't so dirty outside. Garbage laid against the side of all the buildings, graffiti lining the alley ways and even boarded up windows.