His Son Stopped Calling Him Papa
“It’s all right, Don Moretti. Go take care of your other child.”
My six-year-old son raised one small hand and waved goodbye to his father.
Matteo froze.
For twenty-eight days, I had been teaching Luca to call him Don Moretti instead of Papa.
It started the night Luca was burning with fever.
Bianca Bellini sent word that her son was crying for Matteo, and my husband left our sick child without looking back.
I held Luca against my chest and whispered, “Say goodnight to Don Moretti.”
A week later, Matteo promised to attend Luca’s school presentation.
Bianca sent for him again.
Tommy had no father to sit beside him, she said. The other boys would laugh.
Matteo went.
I placed a sheet of paper in front of Luca and handed him a pen.
“Write to your teacher,” I said. “Tell her Don Moretti will not be coming.”
Every time Luca used the title, he hesitated.
Sometimes the words took so long to leave his mouth that I nearly told him he could still call Matteo Papa.
Then came the Moretti succession dinner.
Matteo had promised to present Luca before every capo and elder, name him as his chosen heir, and give him a permanent seat at the Moretti table.
Luca counted the days for two weeks.
But outside the estate, Bianca’s driver stopped us with another message.
Tommy was crying because the other children said he had no father.
Pity crossed Matteo’s face.
Before he could explain, Luca waved goodbye.
“It’s all right, Don Moretti. Go take care of your other child.”
Then he slipped his hand into mine.
“Mom and I don’t need a seat at the Moretti table anymore.”