Twelve Months

by Steven Manchester

  ~ THE DAILY TELEGRAM ~

  Riley DiMarco-Resonina:

  Riding for a Good Cause

  by Don DiMarco, Correspondent

  The t-shirt read: Will of Iron, Legs of Steel and Heart of Gold. Riley DiMarco-Resonina’s words, however, proved that beneath the catchy logo there is even more…much more.

  On March 8th, the compassionate Somerset resident will participate in a very special and powerful event. She will take four days out of her life to join an army of three thousand six hundred bicycle riders. Together, they will travel from Boston to New York, three hundred grueling miles, to help fight in the battle against AIDS. For now, her first challenge is to train for each trying mile.

  Riley admits, “Obviously, I’m training for a good cause. I felt it was time for me to do something big – something that would challenge me as much as AIDS challenges thousands.” As an advocate for disabled children and a mother of two little ones, since May, Riley has taken every free moment to prepare for the long journey. “I’ve worked with free weights and Nautilus equipment, but the real training has been riding twenty-five to fifty miles every other day,” she says. Before meeting that first challenge head on, there is another obstacle that looms over her like a dark cloud. Before ever reaching the starting line, she must raise fifteen hundred dollars. The second challenge begins.

  “We’re riding to raise money for the AIDS-related services of the Fenway Community Health Center,” explains Riley, “and together, we hope to raise more than three million dollars for individuals with AIDS and important AIDS prevention programs in Boston.” Raising her eyebrows, she confesses, “It’s not easy…the word AIDS leaves a negative misconception in many minds. The truth is that AIDS is no longer a gay disease. Today, the deadly disease afflicts more heterosexual teenagers and infants than ever before.”

  Tragically, AIDS has accounted for over three hundred thousand American deaths in the last fifteen years. That’s five times the number of Americans that died in the Vietnam War. Fortunately, with people like Riley DiMarco-Resonina, the Fenway Community Health Center can make a difference. According to her, “Recently, a home for babies with AIDS burned down. The Fenway Center stepped in and donated thousands to rebuild.”

  In the meantime, with the help of her husband, Michael, Riley physically prepares for the final challenge – The Boston-New York AIDS Ride2. For four days, she will volunteer to tax her body, while sleeping under the stars at night. On the first day, she must ride one hundred miles. The second day, a mere fifty, but all hills. Then, she’ll be halfway home. Ironically, her only hope is that people will pledge their support and turn her own determination and efforts into victory.

  A motto used by the riders was taken from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr: “The ultimate measure of a person is not where they stand in moments of comfort and convenience, but where they stand at times of challenge and controversy.” Riley DiMarco-Resonina has chosen to use her twelve-speed bicycle to stand up against a challenging and controversial disease. All tax-deductible pledges should be sent directly to:

  Fenway Community Health Center

  Attn: Ride Pledge Office

  100 Massachusetts Avenue

  Boston, Ma. 02115

  Please use Riley DiMarco-Resonina’s rider number, #6511B, when making your contribution. Riley will do the rest.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  I searched the kids’ faces. They were sincerely impressed. “So because your mom turned out to be such a wonderful person, my life has been a great success, understand?”

  They nodded.

  “Now isn’t that the best gift you could ever give your mom and dad?” I asked.

  They nodded again.

  “I’m glad you agree.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Bella cut out the article and framed it. That night, Riley and Michael insisted on taking us out to celebrate. Even with the increasing pains in my abdomen and kidneys, I couldn’t refuse. We ended up at a local Japanese Steak House that Bella and I had never been to. What the hell? I thought and tried two bites of sushi – the cooked kind. “Only seals should eat the raw stuff,” I told them.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The following morning, the pain was so intense I finally surrendered and scheduled a masseuse to come to the house.

  I felt awkward, but Bella swore, “You’re going to love it. Believe me.”

  I couldn’t have been five minutes into my first massage before I was drooling like a baby. I’d never felt so relaxed. Christine, the masseuse, worked the knots out of my neck, the steel out of my back and for a while, I almost believed she might dig the cancer out of my poisoned organs. No such luck. Instead, she turned my arms and legs into rubber bands, and if only for a few moments, removed the weight I carried in my mind. It was a wonderful gift and I wondered, Why did I wait until the end of my life to enjoy this?

  Before she left, I scheduled weekly massages with her.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  That afternoon, a check for thirty-five dollars arrived in the mail, signed by Tracy Kippenberger, publisher of the Daily Telegram. It was the only check I’d ever earned that I had no intention of cashing. Pulitzer prize-winning journalism or not, I gave it my best shot and at least played the game, I decided – before folding up the check, placing it in my shoebox and crossing off another item from the honey do list.

  Bella approached me and grabbed my hand. “I love you,” she whispered.

  I kissed her hand.

  She stared out the kitchen window and sighed. “This snow is really starting to get old,” she complained and shook her head.

  Instantly, I had an epiphany. On a whim, I told her, “I have a surprise for you.”

  “What is it?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.

  “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?” I asked.

  As my mind drifted off, I let the love of my family wash over me. Good or bad, life is best when it’s shared, I thought, whether it’s first-hand experiences or second-hand stories.

  Bella, on the other hand, squirmed with curiosity.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Before I knew it, Bella and I were back in Dr. Rice’s office for my blood work follow-up. Just as soon as Dr. Rice entered the room, I knew she had more bad news.

  “What is it?” Bella asked, beating me to the punch.

  The kind doctor shook her head. “The cancer has metastasized outside of the liver and spread to the lymph nodes. And…” She paused, looking deep into my eyes. “…it’s moving fast now.”

  “And before it’s over, it’ll be everywhere, right?” My rhetorical question made my wife squirm even more.

  Dr. Rice half-nodded. “It could reach your bones and lungs.” She shook her head. “You need to…”

  “Pick up the pace,” I said. “I got it.”

  She never argued the point.

  Chapter 14

  Trying to make up for the time that would be lost, I worked on the puzzle until we absolutely had to leave for the airport. It was a good thing we kept the luggage out. Two of the bags weren’t even unpacked from the last trip.

  I was feeling worse but kept it to myself. Like termites through an old house, I could actually feel the cancer spreading, poisoning one organ after the next. No matter, with the selflessness Bella had shown by spending her honeymoon healing my soul in Vietnam, it was going to take more than cancer to stop us. If our recent trips have taught me anything, it’s so important to get away and make memories with the people you love – cancer be damned!

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  I’d jumped on the net and did the research. Barbados meant “the bearded-ones,” named after the island’s fig trees, which had a beard-like appearance. According to the pictures, it was paradise on earth. And it’s about time, I thought.

  With Riley’s help, I was able to make the plans, pack the bags and keep my secret.

  Right up until the time we pulled into the airport’s
icy parking lot, Bella was relentless. “Okay,” she said, “I know we’re going on a trip. But where?”

  “Will you stop,” I laughed. “I packed your mittens and scarf. You’ll know soon enough.”

  We checked in at Gate 11, Flight #7438, destination, Barbados.

  “Oh Don,” she squeaked and nearly crushed my disappearing body with a bear hug.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  On the plane, I reported my findings to Bella. “Barbados was founded by a tribe of cone heads, overtaken by a tribe of cannibals who probably ate them, conquered by the Spanish, and later colonized by the English. I figured it was perfect for you!”

  She laughed. “I bet it is.”

  The flight was rough, but as we circled a rugged strip of land, I looked out the small window and saw miles of white sand beaches. I nudged Bella and pointed. “Welcome to Barbados,” I whispered. All along the shore, large stretches of white sand were broken by beautiful coral formations. We placed our trays back into their upright positions, fastened our seat belts and smiled. Anywhere that land met ocean, a little piece of heaven could be found.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The airport was under heavy renovations, so we had to exit the plane on the tarmac and make our way through a maze of scaffolding to the terminal. The heat was almost as oppressive and punishing as Vietnam. I pulled at my collar and looked over at Bella. She was huffing and puffing too. “Hey, it beats the snow,” she said with a grin.

  Customs consisted of two people who looked very unhappy with their jobs. With no air conditioning, I didn’t blame them. After a couple of bad looks, our papers were stamped. “Thank you,” I said to the girl. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn she snarled at me. You’d fit in well at the Department of Motor Vehicles, I thought and tipped a local boy to drag our luggage out to the curb.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The cab driver drove us from the airport to the parish of St. Michael located between Bridgetown and Speightstown.

  The hotel sat right on the beach but didn’t look like much from the outside. Once we crossed the threshold though, I quickly realized why I’d paid as much as I did. It was gorgeous, maybe even the paradise they showed in the pictures.

  There were three crystal blue pools that layered one atop the other, dumping into a final lagoon by way of a giant rock waterfall. “Gorgeous,” Bella sighed and hugged me from behind.

  We unpacked and spent the first day adapting to our new surroundings. It’s funny how my memories of this play out in fragments – a late breakfast that I found repulsive because the cheese was sweating and the warm pints of milk showed a grinning goat on the back of the cartons; entire families of Brits and Australians on holiday by the pool; trays of strawberry and banana daiquiris. I can still picture the young con artist trying to peddle his fake jewelry on the beach and me shooing him away from Bella, as if he were an RV salesman. We ran into the cleaning lady three times. From her broken English, I learned that her name was Rosa and she worked three jobs. I can still see my beautiful wife lying on a white lawn chair under a palm tree, reading a book and laughing. Everyone smelled like coconut and everyone was smiling. Lunch was buffet style with hot dogs and barbecue chicken. Though I hid it from Bella, I couldn’t eat. I’d been sick to my stomach since we landed and it wasn’t just from motion sickness. Forgive the graphic detail, but my stool was starting to show increasing traces of blood again each time I managed to go. And, there were moments when I felt like I’d swallowed a handful of broken glass. I tried breathing through it each time. One, one-thousand…two, one-thousand…three, one-thousand…

  Bella asked, “Are you feeling sick?”

  “Not too bad,” I lied. I didn’t need Bella’s futile worrying to slow us down. Bottom line – I was dying and nothing was going to stop that. From here on, as my friend Billy Hutchins would say, We need to drive this thing until the wheels come off and we head into victory lane – out of gas, all banged up, and the doors torn right off it.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  At dusk that first night, I was invited to play cricket on the beach with some of the young natives who’d gotten off work from the hotels. “Come on, Mon!” a skinny man with long dreadlocks yelled at me, extending a flat paddle in my direction.

  I couldn’t resist and got up from my beach chair. As I slowly made my way down the beach, I warned them, “I used to play baseball when I was a kid.”

  I swung and missed three times. They all laughed and kept on laughing. I looked up to find Bella taking pictures and laughing right along with them. The sun was just going down. It was beautiful. I suppose they took my age into account and gave me a few extra swings. I took a couple deep breaths and by the fifth swing, I connected and looped one into the ocean. “Yoohoo!” my wife cheered and the men took turns congratulating me. For such poor people, they seemed so happy. They were friendly and relaxed, and from the looks of it, not overly burdened with the worries of most. I watched as the sun shimmered on the horizon, throwing off colors I’d never seen before. Having been born in paradise, my new friends had been blessed and obviously knew it.

  “Time to eat,” Bella called out. I looked up to find her waving me to her. My body tingled and I wondered, Lord, what did I ever do to deserve such a woman? I still loved my wife as passionately as the rainy day we’d met.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The hotel’s restaurant was an open veranda glowing in candlelight, illuminating the smiles of those who dined under its giant thatched roof. Dinner was formal, by reservation only, and though I still felt exhausted and terribly ill, I didn’t want to miss anything. The beat of the calypso band and the certain disappointment in my wife’s face made me bite my tongue and endure with a smile. From the length of Bella’s smile, it was well worth the discomfort.

  I awoke earlier than Bella and stepped out onto the small balcony that overlooked the beach. In the growing light, I read one of the hotel’s many tour advertisements:

  Barbados was born from sugar and rum in the days when pirates roamed the sea. With a history rich in folklore, there are stately plantations of Jacobean and Georgian architecture set amid the chattel houses. Trace the roots of a proud and determined people, a nation that has risen above its past. Barbados has many natural phenomena: underground caves of waterfalls and lakes, ocean tide pools, flower forests, mangrove swamps and many indigenous species such as the Barbados green monkey. The Caribbean is also full of people who are larger than life. Allow them to touch you with their colorful stories, endless energy, and love of life. Tour the island and…

  Bella stirred from her sleep. I went to her.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  On our first morning walk, we came across an older man raking seaweed on the beach. “Good morning,” I called out to him.

  “Good morning to you,” he said with a smile, “and a glorious afternoon and evening, too.”

  “We hope.”

  “Name’s David,” he said, “if you need anything, please feel free to call on me, yes?”

  I stopped. “Actually, my wife and I are interested in touring your beautiful island, but don’t want to do it from the windows of a bus.”

  He leaned on his rake and looked at me, but said nothing.

  “We’d like to get a native’s perspective of the island and…”

  “I see,” he said and thought for a moment. “I have a friend, Philip, who knows every road and back, but…” He looked embarrassed to go on.

  “Yes?”

  “He charges one hundred fifty U.S. dollars for the day.”

  “That’s reasonable enough,” I said. “When can he take us?”

  “I can arrange it so that you leave tomorrow morning, yes?”

  “That would be great. It’ll give us a full day.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  As promised, at first light, Philip waited for us at the hotel’s front gate. He opened the Toyota’s rear door for Bella and greeted me with an e
xtended hand. “Good morning, sir,” he said.

  I was pleased to discover that his English was better than mine. “Good morning,” I said, “but please don’t call me sir. I’m Don and that pretty lady right there is Bella.”

  Both he and Bella smiled. He nodded. “Okay then, Don and Bella,” he replied, “let’s go tour the island.” One handshake later, we were heading away from the luxury we’d known for two days toward poverty unlike anything I’d ever seen.

  As we drove, I prompted Philip to describe his world. Without hesitation, he explained, “The first settlement in Barbados was Holetown, originally named Jamestown after King James the First of England. It acquired the name Holetown because of the off loading and cleaning of ships in the very small channel located near the town. Speightstown, however, was the first major port and commercial center of Barbados. Neglected over the years, I’m happy to say it’s since been revived. There are excellent hotels and restaurants in the area, as well as a new art gallery.”

  As he spoke, Bella and I pointed out the shacks with no windows, tin roofs and naked children running around barefoot.

  Philip’s first stop was at the Baobab Tree in St. Michael. “Out of little seeds, great things can grow,” he said and opened the door for Bella to get out and take a closer look.