After all the meetings were completed, Don Corsina poured himself another glass of brandy and sat down in the black and mahogany recliner in the corner of the den. He quickly finished the brandy and set the glass on the side table. He sat back and lifted the handle at the side of the recliner that sent the front of the chair shooting up, then leaned back, using the weight of his body to force the seat back and down as far as it would go. He no longer felt invigorated; rather he was drained and unhappy.
He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, thinking about his two sons. The two had grown up under the same roof, with the same parents and the same rules, yet they were so different, one from the other. His thoughts put him into a deep sleep.
Both children had obscenely good childhoods; they were given everything they needed, and most of what they wanted. Roberto always bullied Gio a bit, being the “big” brother. They were both sent to private Catholic schools, and as time went by it became apparent that Gio was an intellectual. He never had to study for tests and always came home with outstanding grades. Whereas Roberto struggled through school, but did graduate. Roberto wasn’t dumb or stupid; he just had to think about things a little longer. His mind was always somewhere else, usually on some girlfriend.
The major rift between them and their destinies came about when Roberto was eighteen and Gio was sixteen. The Don had taken them on a hunting trip to Oregon. Gio did not want to go and did not want to kill an animal, but Roberto was excited about the adventure. Ironically, things were very different at the hunting site. Gio was very adept with the high-powered rifle and turned out to be a crack shot. Still, he restrained himself from shooting animals and instead shot at targets that he set up in trees.
It was the middle of their second day when the group ventured deep into the forest. Around midday Giorgio spotted a large buck behind some bush about fifty yards ahead. Knowing that Gio was not interested in shooting an animal, Giorgio told Roberto to take the shot. The rifle popped and you could hear birds scattering for safety. They saw the deer drop, and immediately Roberto screamed in horror, “What did I do?” over and over again. Giorgio kept telling him to quiet down. Gio was completely quiet, but Roberto was still crying as they walked with their father over to the struggling deer. Roberto’s shot had been off mark and struck the deer in the stomach. When they got to it they found it whimpering and struggling to get on its feet.
“You need to finish it off, Roberto; you can’t leave it like this.” Giorgio explained that the deer would either die slowly and painfully, perhaps being eaten alive by other animals, or quickly now.
“I can’t do it!” Roberto yelled at his father and threw the rifle to the ground before throwing himself to the ground, crying.
Then, without asking if he should and with no prompting from his father, Gio walked up to the wounded deer, placed the muzzle of his rifle to its head and pulled the trigger. The animal stopped moving and Gio turned to his father, pointed to his hysterical brother and said, “Was it worth it?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but started walking back along the trail to the camp site. During the walk, the emotion that carried him was a newfound hatred for the man who had brought them there. But even at sixteen he knew that he was part of the family and that man was his father.
After Gio left the two, other hunters arrived and stared at the dead deer. But the only thing on Don Corsina’s mind was how cold and purposeful his younger son had been, and how he might use this trait to his advantage. Pulling the trigger as Gio had done showed that he could put his feelings aside and take care of business when needed, a trait that the Don respected.