Chapter 2The Sabatini family moved next door to our house in Seaford, on Long Island, when I was nine. There weren’t many Italian families in our neighborhood. Rumor had it Mr. Sabatini used to drive for one of the Mafia dons, and that could have been true, but all anyone knew for sure was he’d opened a gas station on Montauk Highway and went to work there every day.
They were a small family for Italians, just the mom and dad and two kids. Later we learned that Gregorio, the oldest son, had been killed in the line of duty—he’d been a New York City cop—and Maria, the oldest daughter, was actually Sister Marie Saint Paolo.
Tony Sabatini became my best friend. We played cowboys and Indians and war, and biked everywhere together, running errands for our mothers, and as we got older, going to
