by DD Prince
He spun me so that I was straddling him and put his hand to my jaw. “I love you, baby girl.”
I nodded, mid ugly-cry.
“Don’t cry, baby. We’re gonna be okay.”
I nodded some more and put my hands to his jaw, put my lips to his. “I love you. I’m going to try to be less selfish. I’m sorry.”
His eyes filled with pain. “You’re not being selfish. I brought you here and I can’t expect you to lay by the pool while I’m stuck in my misery and not wanna go out and see the island. I let you pick the spot, least I can do is let you see it.”
“In a snowsuit,” I added.
His shoulders jiggled with silent laughter. “Next vacation… Alaska.”
I put my arms around him and squeezed, letting out a giggle.
We stayed like that for a minute, and then I started to trace my name on his chest with my fingertip.
“I’m tryin’,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
I swallowed and looked into his eyes. “I know.”
We stared at one another for a long time.
I put my lips to his jaw and then my mouth to his ear. “I’m sorry, honey. I wish I could just snap my fingers and take your pain away. I know I can’t. I know it’s not that simple. I keep just hoping and it’s just not realistic. I’ll try to be more patient,” I said, then climbed off.
“Where you goin’?” He grabbed my hand.
“Wash your back?” I offered.
He smiled.
I climbed behind him and filled the sponge with bodywash to scrub his back.
“That feels nice,” he told me, reaching back to rub my leg.
I rinsed his back off and put my arms around him from behind, my cheek against his back. “Take me to bed and make love to me, Tommy?”
“I can do that.”
He pulled the plug and we got out.
***
Slow and sweet vanilla missionary-position love was made (though he made me come twice) and then he was breathing deep and even. Our blinds were wide open so I lay there and looked at him in the moonlight.
Guilt worked its way through me. I was done being a spoiled brat, like this holiday was for me. It was supposed to be a break, but he was the one that lost his father. He was the one living with the guilt. My dad was sort of lost to me, his actions angering me. But, he was breathing.
Incarcerated, but breathing.
Tommy’s father wasn’t.
Both of our fathers had wronged us, but at least I hadn’t had to kill mine to save myself.
Tommy’s father had pointed a gun at us. I could still feel the steel pressed against my temple sometimes. He’d taken me with malicious intent. He’d also put his mouth on me in front of a lot of people and I knew Tommy worried that people believed he’d murdered his father because Tom died that same day.
One or both of us could’ve died if Tommy hadn’t done what he did. But yet, he had to live with himself after that, had to feel all that pain and still be strong. I could cry in bed for a week if I got down. It was something I’d done, more than once. But, he had to be a man. He had responsibilities that weighed on him. People expected things of him. It wasn’t fair. I had to be his solace, not a source of more stress.
***
We approached Tom’s funeral with sadness, of course. Tommy had lost his father and his siblings had, too. Lisa lost her husband and the loss of James, Tessa’s husband, was still fresh and raw.
The family was all in pain, coping with more than one tragedy. So much loss.
The moment we were all in the room at the funeral home where the coffin was briefly opened was a moment I’d never ever forget. That moment, in that room with all of us felt like there were no secrets. None.
Seeing the man there, looking like he always did, in a suit, perfectly groomed, with one difference. His salt and pepper hair was combed differently in an attempt to partially hide the damage the bullet did to his forehead. The efforts failed. Likely why his casket had been closed.
I couldn’t be sure, but it was as if, in that moment, everyone in the room knew who put that bullet there.
No words were spoken. I don’t even think anyone breathed. I couldn’t tear my eyes off Tom’s body until a split second before the funeral director came back in. My eyes skimmed the faces of them all and in a split second I read something from each of them.
Tessa. Anger.
Luciana. Confusion.
Dario. Disappointment.
Lisa. Panic.
That’s what I read from each of them other than Tommy.
Tommy stared at the face of his father with something stone-cold.
They held a small ceremony with just us around Tom’s grave site and the pain was a living and breathing thing for all the Ferrano siblings. It was so quiet, every one of them in their own heads. Lisa stood there, so beautiful and so pale, just staring at the coffin.
Tessa looked like she wanted to scream the whole time. It was very unsettling.
I was feeling things, too, and not just because of feeling bad for Tommy. I was also at the very cemetery my mom was laid to rest at.
I didn’t go to the mausoleum, despite knowing my mom’s urn was there. I didn’t like that she and Tom Ferrano had their remains resting in the same cemetery at all, but didn’t say anything. What good would it do to speak of it?
Tom was buried next to Tommy’s mother, which had to hurt for Lisa. Didn’t it? There were more places available in the Ferrano family plot. Would she be buried there in sixty or seventy years? Or, would she marry again? She was so young.
We then had a Celebration of Life dinner in Tom’s honor with his friends and business associates. People traveled in from around the country as well as from overseas for the funeral and had all been at the banquet hall while we attended the interment.
It wasn’t easy on Tommy or on Dario. There were many business associates from around the world who had come. Tommy, me, Dare, and the girls all stood in a receiving line and greeted hundreds of people.
At the funeral, Tommy and Dario both delivered eulogies about their father. Tommy toiled over his. I saw him struggling. He refused to let me read it, tearing up the paper he was writing it on when I offered, stating he didn’t need to write it down after all.
“You could skip it?”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. It’s expected. I’ll figure it out when I get there.”
He did just fine at the service. He spoke about his father’s business savvy, about how his father and his father’s best friend built a very successful business from scratch, with nothing but a few dollars between them. About how much loyalty and time with loved ones was important to him. Tommy talked about how much Tom would have enjoyed attending the celebration, due to the turn out and the amount of food that his loved ones had cooked for the meal. His favorites. Tommy listed off several of them and told side-stories of family arguments over who made the best lasagna, the best tiramisu. And then he actually joked that his fiancée made them best, teasing that he’d start a family feud at a funeral. It earned some chuckles. Tommy said his father would want a celebration and that was why the banquet would have tables groaning with his favorite foods and drinks. He thanked everyone for coming and turned the podium over to Dario.
The turnout was such that it seemed like Tom Ferrano was a respected business man and family man who would be missed.
I made four of the lemon Bundt cakes, even, feeling weird about it, but getting encouraged to do it by Lisa, who had said that Tom had enjoyed it and that the night I’d first made it for their dinner party, she’d found him in the kitchen, sitting in the dark eating a piece at two in the morning. She said it with a smile on her face, though and it’d made shivers trill up my back, thinking about my mom making it for him back in their day.
Lisa thought it was a simple act of enjoyment, but I knew in my gut that it wasn’t that. It was Tom having a moment, remembering a woman he’d tormented, thinking about tormenting my father,
likely, about the Ferrano-style justice of having me matched with his son against my will. Tom Ferrano Sr. had been a sadistic and evil sonofabitch deep down.
Or maybe he really loved my mom like Tommy loved me and missed her, was willing back then to do anything to have her and failed so he turned bitter. I tried not to think of it that way, to not compare Tommy and his father, but it wasn’t easy and sometimes my mind went there.
Tommy talked about how Tom Sr. had helped many people, given to charities, assisted illegal immigrants in getting out from under the thumb of tyrannical debtors.
Dare’s eulogy told funny stories about his father, told about business lessons his father had taught him, and more words about the importance of family.
Sarah Martinez had gotten up and spoke of how many lives Tom had positively impacted, hers included. She sang a beautiful Spanish song with tears in her eyes, staring at the large framed photo of Tom off to the side, with a pianist and harp player accompanying her. Her voice was angelic, but also powerful, and gave me goosebumps.
To listen to that on top of both Tommy’s and Dario’s eulogies, you’d think the world was a gloomy place without Thomas Ferrano Sr. Doting father and grandfather. Great friend. An employer any employee would give their eyeteeth to have the pleasure of working for. A man with business savvy that was enviable.
They did well at sharing the best parts of their father with the world and I was sure there was truth in their words. That they would, deep down, miss him --- miss the parts of him that they held dear.
Luc spoke as well. She read poetry instead of speaking about him.
Tess didn’t get up. She was still a wreck from the loss of James and I quietly suspected that the anger on her face whenever she wasn’t in conversation with someone had to do with not knowing how to feel about her father’s passing, given that other problems with him had taken the father of her boys away. Her eyes had dark circles around them. Her skin was pale. She was not in great shape at all. Eddy spent most of the time keeping Tess’s boys and his and Luc’s twin girls occupied. Sarah had Luc and Eddy’s baby, Nicholas, in her arms all day, too.
Lisa was mostly very quiet, but played an excellent hostess to the guests. She had what I’d describe as a perfect Monalisa smile the whole day. I suspected she’d fall apart later, alone. It’s what I’d do. It’s what I did. I kept it together as we had to go through the motions. Tommy and Dario had behind-closed-door meetings that day with several men that felt reminiscent of The Godfather movie when everyone wanted to see the head of the family during the wedding. I spent most of that time with Bianca and her mother, drinking cup after cup of coffee.
We didn’t get home until well after midnight, the day dragging on with so many requiring time with him.
Tommy had said that it was expected, but the expression on his face that day hurt me right in the heart and I broke down for him. All my tears that day were for the Ferrano children, for Lisa. Not for Tom.
The meetings were brief, but there were many of them and he had to listen to men pay respects and had to have a few minor discussions about business dealings. That night, he told me that he’d be putting everything in his brother’s hands while we got out of town for a bit.
“Need a breather, baby. Gotta get outta here before I fuckin’ lose it. We’ll go. Get away for a bit and then get the family to meet up and be there when we get married. Figure it all out. That okay? Pick a place. Gotta wrap some shit up first, then I’ll take you and we’ll get a little break.”
I had nodded, tears in my eyes, while in his arms as he held me so close it was like he was trying to absorb me into his skin.
He held me until I fell asleep, still in our funeral clothes. I didn’t break away because I suspected I was an anchor for him at that moment, maybe even a life raft.
We were eloping, getting married on a beach. No one knew but the immediate family and that was how we wanted it. Tommy wanted us to slip off the grid for a while and eloping and then an extended honeymoon was the perfect way to do it.
I woke at about four o’clock in the morning alone. I went downstairs for a glass of water and, not seeing him on the main floor, headed for the basement. I heard him from my spot at the top of the basement stairs. He was down there beating his punching bag.
***
“Hey.” His voice broke me out of thoughts of the funeral, the past.
“Hi,” I said, snapping out of my daze.
“Watching me sleep? And you thought I was the creepy stalker.”
I gave him a big creepy smile with my best impersonation of psycho eyes. Not that he could likely see it in the dimness of our room.
He leaned over and kissed my nose. “The rest of our time in Aruba, all up to you. Whatever you wanna do, we’ll do.”
I sobered. “Oh. Um… it’s okay, I---”
He cut me off. “Nope. Serious. We’re here. We made it. We got through Mexico, we survived Vegas, and then all the drama with Pop? We’re alive and breathing. We’re on vacation. Let’s enjoy the rest of it. Distract me. Play tour guide. Whatever you wanna do, baby girl. Tourist crap. A hundred beaches. Whatever. For the next few days, then Costa Rica and we plan our wedding.”
“Really? It’s not gonna feel like a trip to the dentist for you?”
“Don’t worry about me. Just… whatever you want.”
“But...”
“No, baby. Serious. Whatever you wanna do the rest of the time we’re here.”
I smiled and cuddled in. “Okay.”
We cuddled a while longer and I knew by his breathing he wasn’t asleep again.
“Tommy?”
“Hm?”
“What did you wanna be when you grew up?”
“I wanted to be a man that made my Pop proud.” His voice was ice-cold.
I hated making the warmth disappear. I regretted my words. But, I’d already asked, so might as well continue.
“Before that? What did you dream of?” I tried.
“That’s it. Since I could walk, earliest memories, being told I’d be king of the kingdom someday.”
“What about now? What’s your dream now?”
“Happily ever after with my ice cream parlor maid.” He squeezed my butt and I smiled.
“I was more than the job I used to do. And so are you.”
He went quiet and so I did, too, thinking over how hard it must be for him to have no idea what would be next.
Well, I didn’t know, either. My plans a few months back of my own apartment, of going to college for social work, all that had changed, too. All I knew about my future was that I’d be his wife.
But, right then, that was enough. We had time to figure it all out.
I wanted to get him excited about the future. To think of the glass as half-full. But, he needed time to grieve. Patience from me. Time to figure out what he wants.
***
I couldn’t be selfish, not with all the pain and torment I saw in his eyes, heard in his irregular breathing while he slept, so I planned things for our last few days in Aruba that I thought he would want to do.
The next day, with Aldo’s help, I organized a day of off-roading. And I could not have picked a better activity. I think it was just what he needed. We had a blast. He smiled. He laughed. He teased and told jokes. He kissed me about a hundred times. And he wasn’t faking it.
Before we finished up and were about to turn our 4x4 in, I got spontaneous. “Pull over there, Tommy.”
“Hm?” he asked.
“There.” I pointed to a cluster of tall rocks. He followed my directions and this took us to a secluded spot.
He gave me a mischievous look as he put it in park and yanked the bandana off his face.
I pulled my sunglasses off, undid the seatbelt, yanked the bandana that was around my mouth to keep dirt and debris out of my nose and mouth down, and leaned forward and grabbed first his seatbelt, then the belt of his jeans.
His eyes were surprised, then heated.
I pulled him
out of his black boxer briefs. He was already hard for me. He grabbed the holy shit bar inside the driver’s side window and held on, eyes down, on me, and filled with intensity.
I swirled my tongue around the tip of him and then looked up again. He liked to make eye contact when he did sexual things to me, and I knew from our time together that he liked it when my eyes were on him while we were fooling around. I kept going, making sure to move my eyes to his face as often as I could, while working him with my tongue.
He grabbed my ponytail and held it, not forcing my head in any direction, but I knew by the look in his eyes that he was ensuring he was ready to take over control when he chose.
That was my fiancé. Always ready to take control. I loved it about him, particularly because he usually knew just when to take it.
He let me suck and stroke, plant kisses up and down his shaft while batting my eyelashes angelically at him.
And then, he’d had enough of the sweetness. His grip tightened on my hair and he put pressure to make me take him deeper.
“Yeah, baby,” he whispered huskily.
I was soaked between my legs at the sounds he was making, at the sight of a swallow working its way down his throat, at him blowing out air slowly and his fist tightening on the upper handle inside the vehicle as he got lost in sensation.
“Fuck, this mouth. Gonna fuck this sweet mouth. Suck my cock, Tia. Suck it good.”
I choked a little, fought it off, and sucked.
His pelvis rammed into my face just as his hand pushed my head down on him.
He let go of the ponytail and then his hand was down the back of my shorts, his fingertips sliding into me, his thumb on my asshole.
“Wiggle this little ass for me, baby girl.”
I obeyed. Ass high up, knees planted in the passenger seat.
“Keep sucking, Tia.”
He kept working my clit, fingering me, and pressing his thumb against my back door. I came with him in my mouth. The soles of my sneakers digging into the passenger door. He came on me, too, but I choked and wound up with it in my hair.
***
The 4x4 had been turned in and we were waiting for our cab.
“Let’s go back before the restaurant so I can wash my hair,” I suggested.
