Chapter 17 - THE TROPHY CASE
I replaced Marcus’s glass display case.
Exactly.
Same wood.
Same dimensions.
Museum-grade glass this time because apparently rage upgrades furniture.
Marcus refused to return to install his trophies.
So the case remained empty for a year.
Then he sent instructions:
Donate the awards to the company archive or charity auction. He did not want them.
I asked why through Anthony.
Marcus answered:
“I built a shrine to myself in the same room where I told Arturo he was finished.”
That was almost too self-aware.
Therapy apparently worked sometimes.
The charity auction accepted two pieces.
The magazine cover went to recycling.
One bronze development award stayed in the archive because it related to a legitimate historic project.
The empty case bothered Arturo.
“Waste.”
“What do you want in it?”
He thought.
Then:
“Put Sofia’s recipe book.”
I stared.
“In a trophy case?”
“She won every argument with food.”
We did not.
Katherine, the estate curator, threatened to resign over grease exposure.
Instead the case became a rotating display of family history not centered on men.
Sofia’s charity letters.
Workers’ photographs.
Women who ran Bellini restaurants during wartime.
Drivers.
Cooks.
Accountants.
People old Mafia stories usually left outside the frame.
May you like
The broken case became more useful after I paid to repair it than before I broke it.
Annoyingly poetic.
