I checked my watch to verify.
He’s late.
There was nothing particularly special about that day. Showing up in the bar wasn’t part of some grand plan, and I didn’t wake up thinking another poignant life event would occur. When does anybody wake up feeling that way? No, the morning started like any other. I got out of bed after almost getting caught fooling around with Cat by ninja girl (little bugger), ate breakfast with my family (waffles with gobs of syrup and three pats of butter for Pookie Bear, coffee and less saturated waffles for the wife and I, if you must know), kissed them both, and headed into work. Oh, I can’t leave out that I scribbled a love note in the foggy mirror while Cat showered (aww!).
All routine, all good.
Routine didn’t last long.
For three months I’d been thinking about the one dangling thread in my life. It wasn’t because of Celeste’s constant questions or various discussions with Catherine on the subject or the conversation I’d had with Mr. Jameson back at my old apartment, although they had their part to play.
Sometimes it’s the simple things, and simplicity presented itself in the form of a car.
I’d seen a Camaro straight out of the late Eighties in the parking lot when I’d gotten my Chinese takeout for lunch. Red with silver ground effects and tinted windows, it was a carbon copy of a car I’d spent so much time driving around in since before I was old enough to legally buy beer. While the car I knew was long gone, its owner wasn’t, and neither were the memories of a time when he and I were inseparable, our whole lives ahead of us.
The simple things.
That afternoon, I picked up the phone.
It may sound awful that a sports car was the impetus for me reaching out. I don’t see it that way. Nobody could tell me what to do. Their input was welcome, but the decision had to be mine. I had to make up my own mind, and I had to be all in. No half measures, no second guessing. Forgiveness isn’t easy. Forgiving and meaning it is hardest of all. It took a while to get there, but I wouldn’t end up like Mr. Jameson, hunched over by the gravity of regret and the weight of grudges. The Camaro was a sign that the time was now.
The door opened again, and I saw him.
Bill blotted out the dying sun and gray clouds with his bulk, searching the bar. He looked exactly the same as when I’d last seen him over a year ago; big, handsome, larger than life. A few single women stared, as did some who weren’t so single. He ignored the ogling and paused when he noticed me.
I waved him over, wondering if I could do this.
All in, good or bad.
He stopped at the bar, then sat down across from me holding two bottles.
“I don’t know what beer you’re into these days,” he said, setting a Newcastle in front of me, “so I went with the old standby.”
“Good guess, but I’m sticking with water tonight.”
“Oh. Okay. More for me then.”
“You look good.”
“Yeah. I mean, thanks. You, too.”
Awkwardness swallowed the crowd noise. Bill played with his beer, not bothering to take a sip. I did the same with my ice water.
“How’s the family?” he asked, staring at the table.
“They’re doing well.”
“Celeste must be huge.”
“She’s growing like a weed.”
He nodded. “Been a long time since we had a guys' night out.”
“Yeah.”
Bill sat back and placed both hands flat on the table. “Why did you call me, Rick?”
“I thought it was time we talked.”
“Why here?”
“Would you have come if I asked you to meet me in the park or anywhere else not as public for that matter?”
“No.”
“Because I’m Italian and I know people who could make you part of a landfill, right?”
“Something like that,” he said, grinning slightly.
“Then there’s your answer. And for the record, not everyone of Italian descent has mob ties.”
“Or so you’d have me believe.” A massive sigh escaped his mouth. “Jesus Christ this is awkward.”
It was. I felt some of my bravado slip away. I knew this would be hard, but when thrown into the middle of it, it seemed damn near impossible. Still, I refused to squander the opportunity.
“I want to talk about Celeste, Bill.”
He nodded. “That’s what I figured.”
“She misses you.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Cat and I don’t know what to tell her. Whenever she brings you up we try to switch topics as best we can. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”
“I see. I miss her, too. I miss all of you.”
“There’s something I need to know.”
“What’s that?”
“What are your intentions?”
“Intentions?”
“Yes,” I said. “Intentions. Do you have any plans whatsoever to make a claim on her? She’s your biological daughter, and I have to know.”
Bill’s expression turned into one of utter shock, and he sat back. “Are you asking me if I’d ever try to steal her from you?”
“Yes. I suppose I am.”
“No,” he said vehemently, shaking his head. “No, no, no. I’d never do that to you, Rick. Never.”
“People say they’d never do a lot of things, but they’re not always true to the words that come out of their mouth.”
“Listen, Rick, and know that this is the God’s honest truth. I love Celeste, you know that. I really do. But I’m no father.”
“I know you’re not.” I wasn’t being mean or trying to belittle him in any way. Those words didn’t come from the long-dead Anti-Ricky. They came from my thoughts, my mouth, and weren’t said out of malice or superiority. Never in my life have I felt I was better than anyone no matter who they were or what they’ve done. “As far as she’s concerned, I’m her father. Always have been, always will be. And as far as I’m concerned, that door swings the other way, too. She’s mine, Bill. I wanted to get that out in the open, and to tell you that if you ever, ever try to take her away from me, I’ll fight you with every fiber of my being, just like I’d do with anybody who tried to break up my family.”
“Rick, I’m telling you you don’t have to worry about that. Of course I want to be a part of her life. Not in that way, though.” He paused. “If you need any help, you know, financially, I’ll do whatever—”
I sighed at the standard Bill response. “Is that your answer to everything? Money? This has nothing to do with money, Bill, and you know it.”
“I know. I know. Look, I’m doing my best here, okay? It’s like this, Rick. I can’t do what you and Cat do. You’re great parents. You’re a great father. Do you think I could rip her away from you like that when she’s so happy and well taken care of? It’s amazing the bond you guys have. There’s no way I’d swoop in there and fuck it all up. Celeste deserves better than me. She deserves you. You’ve always been the better man, whether you realize it or not.”
“I’m not better than anyone.”
“Don’t you get it? That’s what makes you better, the fact that you don’t think you are. How many people would do what you’ve done in this situation? Not many, I guarantee it.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Don’t think I’m trying to be a deadbeat dad. I’m not dumping her on you or washing my hands of her.”
“Then why haven’t you been around? You haven’t even made an attempt at contact.”
“Did you want me to come around?”
“No,” I said with a slow shake of my head.
“Exactly. I wanted to, I really did. I call Jude every chance I get asking about Celeste.”
“I know.”
His eyes widened. “You do?”
“Sisters talk, Bill. Especially Jude and Cat.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, “I should have known. Rick, the main reason I haven’t been around is that I’ve caused so much d
amage already. It’s not that I don’t care about Celeste. It’s because I do care about her—and you and Cat—that I haven’t been around.” My expression must have been quizzical because he clenched his fists and grit his teeth in frustration. “Look, here’s how it is. I just can’t be what Celeste needs me to be. I have so many issues I’d only mess her up. I’m not father material. I damn well know it and so do you. No, she’s better off with you than with me. That’s a fact. It took me a long time to come to terms with all that. The last thing I wanted to do was show up at a time when I knew you hated my guts and have my confusion and unresolved shit make an even bigger mess of things.”
No man wants to hear himself say he’s lesser, and for Bill to come out and share his thoughts like that proved to me he meant it more than anything else.
“Shit,” he said and grabbed his beer, downing it in one shot. “How the hell did we end up here?”
“A long line of mistakes.”
He nodded. Time passed, how much I don’t exactly know, and people milled about, laughing, drinking, flirting, talking as if we didn’t exist, until he finally stopped playing with the empty bottle and said, “Well, now that that’s out of the way, I guess I’ll go. You’ve got what you came for.”
“I’m not finished yet.”
“No? What else is there, Rick? I know the end of the road when I see it. It’s been a long time coming. I’m almost glad to have everything out in the open.”
I took a deep breath, engaging my emotional pause button. Clearing up the Celeste situation was only part of the reason I’d called Bill. One thing remained.
“I forgive you,” I said, slow and measured.
Bill, who’d been half out of his seat and preparing to leave, sat down.
“What?” he asked, slack-jawed.
“I forgive you. For everything.”
I knew I meant it when the words didn’t leave me hollow inside. Up till then, the theory was sound, the application untested. Now that it had been said, I felt myself sitting up straighter, the burden of regret and grudges lifted.
“Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. Lots of things brought us to this point, Bill. I spent a long time hating you for what you’d done, but I think of what a gift Celeste is and how much I love her, how much she loves me. I think of Cat and how the prospect of being without her scares me so badly I can’t breathe. I think back and realize that no single one of us is to blame. Everyone screwed up. You, me, Cat, all of us.”
“See,” Bill whispered. “Told you you were better than me.”
“We’re family. Now more than ever. And it goes beyond being related. I forgive you because I want to, not because I have to. That’s what you do for family. That’s what you do for the people you care about.”
“This … this is what you want?”
“This is what I want,” I said, nodding.
“Really?”
“Really really. Things will never be the same. Maybe they don’t have to be. I don’t know. We should at least give it our best shot, though.”
Bill’s cheeks puffed out with an exhale. “Talk about a modern family.”
“Only without the same sex marriages.”
He smirked a little. “Good. I’m not attracted to you anyway, not that there’s—”
“Anything wrong with that,” I said, completing his sentence.
“Now, Sophia Vergara is another story.”
“You’d have to go through Ed O’Neil.”
“Al Bundy or not, I could totally kick Ed O’Neil’s ass.”
I toasted him with my water. “Totally.”
“I’ll drink to that.” The second Newcastle which had been neglected and left to sweat didn’t last long after he picked it up. “So, water under the bridge?”
Deep, emotional waters under a bridge built out of bad mistakes and horrible choices. I couldn’t have known it back when I was twenty-three, but we’d set the oddest of precedents that wild summer evening. It’s strange how life can eat its own tail.
“Not yet, but maybe one day … as long as we work at it,” I said, truly hoping we’d get to the other side of the bridge intact.
I was about ready to tell Bill I’d changed my mind about having a beer when my cell phone rang.
“It’s Cat,” I said. “Hold on a second. Hey, hon. Sorry. Guess I lost track of time.” The cell reception inside the bar was beyond awful. Building crowd noise emanating from increasingly inebriated customers didn’t help either. Cat’s voice came through as rough static, so I put a finger in one ear and pressed the phone harder to my other. “Cat? Can you hear me?”
“ … -icky? … there?”
“Why don’t you take it outside?” Bill asked, and held up his empties. “I’ll go get us another couple? You’re coming back, right?”
I gave him a thumbs up and said into the phone, “Hold on Cat. Can’t hear anything in here. I’m taking you outside.”
I left Bill to elbow his way through the crowd to the bar, a task that wouldn’t be difficult given his size and determination, and walked outside. Heavy gun-metal gray clouds looked like a rough ceiling made out of dirty cotton. Wind played with an array of multi-colored umbrellas pedestrians had opened up to fend off fat rain drops which had begun to fall, landing on the sidewalk and street with large splats.
“Hello? Cat?” I had to shout. Rush hour was in full swing, the traffic so loud I could barely hear myself think.
“R-i-c-k-y?” Her voice was still full of static. I checked out the screen and saw only one bar of reception. A new carrier was definitely in order. Better call quality, my ass. That little talking hamster that sounded eerily like Andrew Dice Clay was full of crap.
Since the finger in the ear trick didn’t work, I tried my palm instead. The cacophony dulled, but only just.
“Cat? You’re breaking up, baby. The service here sucks.”
“ –at? *ssss* … ear … you … *ssssssss*”
“I can’t make out what you’re saying,” I yelled into my phone, lips pressed against it. “I think I’m in a dead zone.”
I was paying more attention to my phone than the traffic, surely looking like an idiot to the passersby as I screamed into the evil device that is the cellular phone. In an effort to get one more cursed bar of reception, I sidled closer to the curb.
“—ood news …”
“What? You’re still breaking up, Catherine.”
“ … ant … *ssss* … by …”
“Huh? Aunt Bea? Dammit.”
Almost on top of the street now, I checked the phone again. Two bars.
“I think we’re in business now, Cat. What’s this about …”
The sentence went unfinished. A shout of “Buddy! Look out!” turned my attention from my conversation. Startled, I spun around to see what the commotion was, but it was already too late.
“What the shit?”
Two massive halos of light became my entire world within a split second. They followed on the sound of a loud pop that turned into a screech of tires. There was a scream. Could have been mine, could have been someone else’s. My life didn’t pass before my eyes, but a telephone pole did as I flew through the air after the brutal impact. Pain, short lived but intense, shot through me.
When I came to a stop, so numb it almost hurt, all I saw were those dark gray clouds. They swirled and undulated, and I realized my face was wet. Was it from the tears or the dollops of rain the clouds shed?
Over the ringing and pulsing of blood rushing through my head, I heard Cat’s voice, loud and clear. I couldn’t help but think how typical that was.
“Rick? Ricky! What’s that noise? What happened? You there?”
No, I thought. I don’t think I am.
People gathered around me, shouting, looking. They were nothing more than dripping canvases of color to my failing sight. I couldn’t make out a single feature, and while I heard them speak, the voices were indecipherable.
All but one.
“O
h my God. Oh my God! Rick!”
My right cheek crinkled in something between a grimace and smirk.
Bill.
I sensed him force his way through the crowd that circled me as he yelled at them, using every curse word and plea he could muster. He paused over me.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” he said, voice cracking. “No, no, no, no, no.”
“Bill …” I managed to sputter.
“Shhh.” I felt a slight change in elevation, and I was almost certain my oldest friend, my brother and father to the greatest gift I was ever given had me cradled in his lap. “It’s okay, buddy,” he said with forced calm. “Just hang in there, okay?” He turned to the crowd and pulled out his phone, quickly dialing three numbers. “None of you fucks called 9-1-1? What the hell is wrong with you people?” To me: “Help’s going to be here in a few, man. You hang in there for me, Ricky. Goddamnit, hang in there. Hello? Yes. There’s been an accident. My friend was hit by a …”
My focus switched from the blurry face of my friend to the sky. Odd. It wasn’t that dark when I’d first stepped outside, but the clouds seemed to have parted, revealing stars. Lots of them. Millions of tiny pinpricks sparkled and danced in the night sky.
“Stars …”
“What?” Bill said, hanging up the phone. “What did you say, Rick?”
“Lots of stars … talking tonight.”
Bill looked up, shook his head. “There are no stars, Rick. It’s raining, man.”
“Beautiful,” I said dreamily.
“Don’t close your eyes, Rick. Stay with me, okay? Stay with me, you stubborn shit.”
A lightness settled over me. I felt next to nothing. The perimeter of my vision grew murkier, darker, but the stars shone so brightly. In that moment, they moved and took shape. What were random patterns only moments before reorganized themselves into two recognizable faces.
Catherine and Celeste smiled at me from the veil of black in the sky, and I wanted to go home and see them more than anything else I’ve ever wanted in my life.
“Bill,” I croaked over blaring sirens.
“Yeah, Ricky. I’m here.”
“Home … want to … go home.”
“You’ll be there soon, buddy. I promise. I promise we’ll get you home.”
Funeral with a View Page 31
