Mafia Reflection

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Being in the woods in New Jersey during the Winter is always brutal. I’m old now and my memory is fuzzy, but I think the year was 1996. The best days of my life. I was a made man. A Capo for the Abruzzo Family. I had respect, power, and any woman in Jersey that I wanted. The world was mine for the taking. My uncle gave me an objective on a Thursday night. I’ll never forget it. A simple deal with suppliers went sour and my uncle lost some money. He needed me to collect the money that belonged to him, but to do that I had to ruffle some feathers. So I get an address and from there it’s a simple job. I went to these bums’ apartment with a pistol tucked into my pants that was covered by my leather jacket. When I get inside the apartment, I start barking at these bums for my uncle’s money. Typical response. “We don’t have it.” I pulled some show-and-tell. I showed them my pistol and I told them to cough up. I have to give credit where it’s due. These bums weren’t the typical bums that I was used to. These were some heavy hitters who snuck up behind me with a frying pan. BANG! I was out. I woke up sunk into the snow. Seriously. I woke up and I was lying on my side. The left side of my face was frozen. It was the literal definition of a “rude awakening.” My vision was a blur. I knew I had a concussion. At the time I didn’t know what hit me, I just knew that it hurt like hell. When my vision improved and I fully regained consciousness, I realized that my hands were in cuffs. In front of where I was lying, those bums I was sent to collect from were digging a hole in the snow in the middle of the woods. It was called the Borg Woods. In a situation like that, a million thoughts run marathons in your head. I thought to myself, is it really worth this? Take me to the Borg Woods and fucking bury me. They knew my rank. They knew I was a Capo. They knew the trouble this would cause. So, I couldn’t believe that they thought this was a necessary move. One of the guys came over to me with a gun in his hand. I wondered if they’d kill me and then bury me, or bury me to kill me. Whenever it was me with the shovel, I always found it considerate to kill the poor bastard before I put him in the ground. When you’re potentially facing death, you don’t even panic. Well, I can’t speak for everyone but I sure as hell didn’t. I was surprisingly calm. I never accepted death. I wondered how I could get out of it. One of the men approached with a gun. It was at this moment that I wondered if this was how it would end. I didn’t accept it, but I did wonder. He went for my legs. I started to flail and roll in the snow. He threatened to put a bullet in my leg if I continued. I thought to myself if he drags me into this hole to bury me, what do I care that he shoots my leg? I continue to fight his grasp. He was a man of his word. BANG! He put one in my hamstring and I screamed louder than ever before. The pain was unbearable. The cold no longer bothered me, I could only feel the immense pain in my leg. It was the worst pain I had ever felt, the closest thing to it would be when a bullet grazed my hip in 1993. The man grabbed my legs and it was at that point that I thought that I was going to die. I didn’t accept it, but I figured that I was done for. He dragged me into the hole and I still didn’t accept it. They were barking at me, but I didn’t hear a word they said. When they started to plop the snow on top of me to bury my soon-to-be-dead body, I came very close to accepting death. Before I could reach acceptance, I was saved by the grace of God. I had a minor concussion, so I wasn’t all there in the head, but I heard screaming from a very deep and authoritative voice. I heard, “DROP THE GUN.” I didn’t know who was talking, but I knew he had to have been intimidating because before he could finish his threat, the men dropped their guns and got onto their knees. I thought it was the cops at first, but then I realized that the cops wouldn’t be wandering around the snowy Borg Woods. Two men with sniper rifles enter my frame. Hunters. Deer hunters. They took the men’s guns and called the police. During the wait, one of the hunters aided me as much as he could. That’s all I remember. I woke up in a hospital bed. That’s what did it for me. I went to jail just like the rest of them. They gave me the option to rat. They’d put me in witness protection. I chose loyalty. I did my time. Now I’m out. This city has changed. The faces that I used to know are all wrinkly. Everything has changed. I have no respect. I have no power. But, to answer your question…would I do it all over again? I think I would. I miss the days when I was a made man. When I had respect. When I had power. When the world was mine for the taking. I’d kill to have those days back, literally. But, prison never gets easier. It’s a nasty and despicable place. Life in prison isn’t life. You don’t live in prison, you just don’t die, if that makes sense. So, do I think it would’ve been worth serving hard time again just to live in my glory days a little longer? I don’t know. I’d have to really think about it.