|
|
Post by Marcello Santino on May 20, 2009 1:46:04 GMT -5
Marcello spent too much time in bars, he knew that, He wonderend where else he could go to find new recruits these days; it wasn't an easy task. He sighed; if only his brother had a better judgement of character, Marcello wouldn't have to do all the recruiting himself.
"Whisky sour boy, keep'em comming," Marcello said the the bartenter, hardly paying any attention to the boy. He took a quick glance around the bar, noticing no one in particular, and then turned back to the bar. He'd have a couple drinks, and if no one showed up, maybe he'd be able to go home and spend time with Clarice.
But that coulnd happen until he got his drink, which wasn't there yet. "Hey, kid, did you not hear me?" Marcello asked. But when he looked up at the bartender, he had a moment of being taken aback. It wasn't...he hadn't seen Dante in almost a decade.
"Angelo," he said, not entirely if the boy NOT pouring his drinks was actually his son.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dante Santino on May 20, 2009 22:29:21 GMT -5
Dante spotted his father the minute he walked into the bar. He knew he should have picked a more out-of-the-way place to work; the chances of his father finding him here was too great. Like all good bartenders, he knew a good amount of psychological theory, and , if he'd been talking to someone else in this same situation, he would have asked them if there wasn't a part of them that wanted to be found.
Despite the argument they'd had the last time they spoke, Dante really did love his father. Marcello had been a pretty good father. And if not for the pressure on him to carry on in a business that Dante had no stomach for, he might never have left.
As his father moved toward the bar, it was clear that he had not seen him yet. Dante attempted to hide his face, looking down and shielding it with one hand. Marcello sat down and barely even looked at him as he ordered his drink. But Dante was frozen. A part of him wanted to duck behind the bar and hide from him, but he was the only bartender on duty. He couldn't just hide.
And then it happened. Marcello looked back at Dante, and recognition filled his eyes. No one ever called him Angelo except for his father.
Dante licked his lips, which felt unusually dry, and cleared his throat. "Hi, Dad," he said in a quiet voice.
|
|
|
|
Post by Marcello Santino on May 23, 2009 0:00:41 GMT -5
He didn't know how to act. Should he yell? Pretend his son doesn't exhist? He refused to consider a warm welcome back.
"You're home," he said, more as a statement, but meant as a question. Clarice hadn't said anything about the boy being home. "Sick of America?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Dante Santino on May 23, 2009 0:11:33 GMT -5
Dante closed his eyes and sighed softly. He hadn't exactly expected a hug and a welcome home, but he'd hoped... Well, he'd hoped things would be different. When he'd decided to leave New York, he really could have gone anywhere. But he had decided to come home, and he still wasn't entirely sure why.
"Yeah, I'm home," he said. "America was OK, but I just... I guess I missed being home."
What he couldn't quite bring himself to say was "I missed you." But it was true. He'd missed Gabriella and his mother, and, in spite of everything, he'd missed his father.
|
|
|
|
Post by Marcello Santino on May 30, 2009 12:52:49 GMT -5
This was awkward. And Marcello hated feeling awkward. "You should probably tell your mother and sister you are home," Marcello said. He continued to scan the crowd at the bar, unable to bring himself to look at his son. But he knew there was no point in trying to focus on recruiting anyone tonight. Not with Angelo less than five feet away. Marcello reached for his drink, and realized that it still wasn't there. But he didn't say anything about it; probably for the best if he didn't start yelling at his son immediately. "You've been missed." he added. By Gabriella and Clarice definatly, but also by Marcello, though he'd never say that. Not after everthing that happened between the two of them.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dante Santino on Jun 7, 2009 10:35:10 GMT -5
Dante felt the awkwardness, too. He turned away slightly and occupied himself by pouring the drink his father had ordered when he first came in. His hand was shaking slightly as he placed the glass in front of Marcello.
"I've, um... I've seen Gabriella," he said. "I ran into her the other day. I'll try to talk to Mum soon."
He hesitated, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his apron. "Dad... I'm sorry."
|
|
|
|
Post by Marcello Santino on Jun 17, 2009 0:21:47 GMT -5
"Thanks," he said to Angelo as he took the drink. He hated apologies, it was like admitting he was wrong. But after much mental debate, he knew that it was right. "I'm sorry too, Son," Marcello said. "After you left....I should have gone after you, brought you home. I of all people should know how important family is."
|
|
|
|
Post by Dante Santino on Jun 27, 2009 16:25:57 GMT -5
Dante wasn't sure what to do. He was tempted to throw his arms around his father, but he hesitated. It had been so long... It felt like he should take small steps over the boundaries between them, rather than attempt to just knock them all down at once.
So he simply reached his hand out to his father for a handshake. "We both made mistakes," he said quietly. "Let's just put them behind us and move on."
Looking back on what had happened and what could have been, Dante wasn't sure whether he regretted leaving or the fact that his father hadn't come after him right away, or whether he was glad for the time in New York. he liked the independence, the freedom, and the culture of being in New York. And if he'd never gone there, he never would have met Shana. But he also never would have known what it was like to lose her, either. It was a double-edged sword. Ultimately, he was glad he'd had the chance to love Shana, but he hated that he'd been separated from his family for so long. And losing Shana was the cruelest cut of all.
"Anyway, it looks like I'm going to stay," he said. "Permanently."
|
|
|
|
Post by Marcello Santino on Jun 29, 2009 0:29:02 GMT -5
"You're going to stay?" Marcello repeated, trying not to seem too excited. Something must have happened in America that unsettled Angelo. "That's good, that's really good." Marcello said. He was glad Dante came home for good.
"So now you came home and work here?" he asked, gesturing to the bar around him. "you know i would have given you a job Angelo," Marcello said good-naturedly. He knew Angelo didn't really like the "family-business", and it took a while for Marcello to get used to that. That's when he hired Ryder. Not to replace his son, he would never do that. But someone had to be put incharge if something were to happen.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dante Santino on Aug 20, 2009 17:59:53 GMT -5
Dante frowned. His father was correct; Dante did not approve of the business. He had always been far more interested in finding his own way in the world, and while his writing wasn't about to bring the galleons rolling in, the bartending job gave him enough free time to exercise his creativity.
"I don't want to work for you, Dad," he said. His tone was gentle, like he was reminding him of the old, tired argument that had driven him away in the first place. He didn't want to fight with his father, but he needed to make it clear that the "family business" was not a future that he wanted for himself. "I'm really fine here."
|
|
|
|
Post by Marcello Santino on Aug 22, 2009 15:45:14 GMT -5
This was how their argument had started, over working in the mob. It resulted horribly and he regretted it. But Marcello knew better, and he wasn't going to loose Dante for another decade.
"Alright alright," Marcello siad. Holding up his hands in defeat. "You win." He said, shaking his head. He took a sip of his drink. "So how was life in...wherever you went." Marcello asked.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dante Santino on Oct 9, 2009 15:54:51 GMT -5
Dante wished he could actually feel a sense of victory for having "won" the argument with his father. But it had been so long, and so much had happened, that it felt rather bittersweet.
He smiled sadly. "Thanks, Dad." He abruptly turned and poured himself a drink. "I was in New York City, in America. It was... well, it was different from here. There were good things... and there were bad things."
He missed a lot about New York, really. Such as the fact that at any time of day, the streets were filled with people. There was always something to do, somewhere to go, even at 4 am on a Sunday. But after losing Shana, it also began to seem cold and empty, and everything he did felt like a hollow distraction from his loss. He had missed the comforts of home... even if they weren't always so comfortable.
|
|
|
|
Post by Marcello Santino on Oct 15, 2009 1:11:25 GMT -5
"You seem different," Marcello said. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen his son since his graduation day from Hogwarts. Maybe it was something in New York that changed him, Marcello wasn't sure. What he was sure of, was that things were going to be different between him and Angelo. He simply simled at his son and nodded from behind his glass, wondering if Angelo would tell anything more about his experience in America.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dante Santino on Dec 20, 2009 21:15:32 GMT -5
"I am different, Dad," he said simply.
He couldn't say for sure whether it had been because of New York, or everything that happened with Shana, or just the mere process of aging and mellowing with time. But he knew that he had changed a lot since the last time he had spoken with his father. He was older, wiser, and sadder.
"I'd like to come home and see Mum," he said. "Do you think it'd be OK if I stopped over for dinner after my shift ends?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Marcello Santino on Dec 21, 2009 0:46:03 GMT -5
"You don't have to ask," Marcello said. He knew he never gave that impression to his son, but he wanted Angelo to know that now. "It's your home Angelo, you're always welcome there." He wanted to add something, like 'with open arms' or 'where you belong' but that was always Clarice's thing. Marcello wasn't good with sentimental.
"The girls would love to see you," Marcello decided on. Which was true. they'd be beside themselves. "When does your shif end? Do you want me to wait?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Dante Santino on Dec 29, 2009 16:21:42 GMT -5
Maybe Dante wasn’t the only one who had changed. His father seemed different now, just a little… nicer. Maybe it was because he had left when he was so young, but Dante, rather naïvely assumed that his father would be sort of frozen in time, never changing, and always being as stubborn and unyielding as a brick wall.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be as difficult as he had expected it to be. He almost felt guilty about waiting so long to return.
“I’m finished in about half an hour,” he replied, looking up at the clock.
His smile was almost sheepish as he added, “It’ll be nice to see Mum and Gabby. I missed you… all of you.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Marcello Santino on Apr 6, 2010 21:35:02 GMT -5
"I'll wait," Marcello said. He settled himself in the stool and waited paitently as he sipped his second drink.
"Clarice is cooking dinner tonight," Marcello said as Dante finished his shift and joined him at the bar. "Its just family," and Declin, but the kid was practically family. "You comming?"
((I figured that could be a segway to the next thread))
|
|
|
|
Post by Dante Santino on Apr 6, 2010 22:49:55 GMT -5
Now that his replacement was here, Dante was free to go. He couldn't quite explain the trepidation he felt about going home to dinner with his father. He'd already made it through the hard part--actually facing his father and talking to him. Going home and seeing his mother was supposed to be the easy part. So why was he nervous?
"Yeah, thanks, Joey. You have a good night," he said to bartender who was replacing him. Once he had everything finished, he finally turned to his father and nodded. "Yeah.. uh, yes. I'm coming."
|
|
