by D. J. Manly
"We'll talk about it later. Drake needed to think, to be alone. I don't know if I'll be able to find him, Tony."
"What happened today, Dad?" Tony insisted. "It feels like all hell broke loose?"
"Just about."
"Look, get over here, okay? I'll get Angelo to drive Uncle Pepi's car and we'll go looking for Uncle Drake. Maybe Angelo has an idea where his father is. Do you?"
There was a pause, then, "Check the gay bars."
"Christmas night in a gay bar," Angelo scowled a few minutes later as he placed the key in the ignition of Pepi's Ferrari and started the engine. "How goddamned jolly."
Tony smiled. "Christmas is about goodies, isn't it?"
"What a comedian," Angelo yawned, driving toward the gay village.
"So what do you think happened today?" Tony asked him.
"In this family? Like I said, could be just about anything. They'll tell us when they want us to know."
There was nothing more to say. They checked out almost every gay bar in the vicinity, most of which were half empty.
Angelo was in a foul mood. They got hit on in almost every bar they walked into by the most desperate of characters.
Angelo was swearing on the way back to the hospital. "Well, he's not in the bars. Even Dad is not that fucking desperate. Where in hell are you, Dad?"
Angelo growled.
An hour and a half later, they were back at the hospital. Johnny and Pepi were sitting in the waiting room. Johnny had an arm around him and was stroking his hair.
Johnny hadn't told Pepi what had happened yet. The timing was bad. He was really upset about Mama.
Tony kissed his dad on the cheek. "Hi, Dad, you okay?"
Johnny nodded. "You didn't find Drake?"
"No," Tony mumbled.
"How is she?" Angelo asked.
"The same. I called home and left a message for Drake in case he comes back."
"Is she still...?" Tony asked.
"Asking to see Drake? Yes," Johnny sighed.
Johnny looked at his son, and then at Drake's. How would Angelo feel when he learned that he and Pepi were not his uncles? It was funny. Knowing Drake wasn't his brother didn't make him feel as if Angelo was any less his nephew. He still loved him, and Drake would always be his big brother no matter what.
Nothing could change that, not even his mother's words today.
He closed his eyes.
Angelo leaned over and touched his arm. "Uncle Johnny, you should rest. You look really tired. You haven't been out of the hospital that long."
Johnny just shook his head.
They were all at her bedside at four in the morning.
The doctor said they could stay with her if they liked.
She was dying.
Sophia looked at her two sons and then at her grandsons. She reached out her hand to Drake's son, who hovered behind his two uncles.
He came forward at her request and squeezed her hand, smiling at her.
"Drake," she said softly, running her hand down the side of his cheek. "You are so handsome. Just like your grandfather."
She had said that so often, and Johnny knew she was right. Angelo did look like his grandfather, his real grandfather. Before, people always thought Sophia had to be a little blind to think that either Drake or his son looked like Joseph Russo, but they never had the heart to contradict her. But Mama had never meant that they bore a resemblance to Joseph Russo.
"I love your father," she blinked at Angelo. "He has been the living reminder of my own heart. And you...you are so like your dad. Drake, Drake..." she sobbed, holding his hand.
Angelo looked around helplessly at his uncles.
"Where is your father...why doesn't he come? Does he hate me? Johnny....Johnny..." She let go of her grandson's hand. "Does he hate me now?"
"No...no, Mama...he doesn't hate you," Johnny moved in giving Angelo the opportunity to take a break. "He needs time to..."
"I can't hold on much longer, and yet I can't go...I won't go until he comes. Drake...Drake...." she whispered. "He has to forgive me, Johnny. Do you? Do you forgive me?"
Johnny turned around and to Pepi, he said, "Damn Drake! Why doesn't he come?"
"Forgive her for what, Johnny?" Pepi asked. "What is she talking about?"
"We'll talk about it later, Pep, okay?" Johnny said wearily, rubbing his face.
"No," Pepi muttered, pulling his brother aside, "we'll talk about it now. I'm tired of being kept in the dark here. Obviously, you and Drake both know something that you need to forgive her about. What is it? It's about what happened today...why none of us got to eat Christmas dinner or open gifts, and why Mama ended up here, dying."
Johnny pulled his arm away and through clenched teeth, he growled. "I said not now, Pepi."
They looked over at their mother. She was sleeping, dozing, then waking again to call out Drake's name.
Angelo couldn't stand it anymore. He walked out of the room and into the hallway.
Tony followed him out, watching as he punched the wall. "Angelo, are you okay?"
"No, I'm not okay," Angelo replied angrily. "Where in the hell is he? His mother is dying and he's nowhere. I'm going to call the house again. Shit. If he doesn't get here in time, Tony, he's never going to be able to forgive himself."
"Wait," Tony put a hand on Angelo's shoulder and pointed. Drake was walking toward them, down the corridor. He looked like hell. His clothes were rumpled.
They could smell liquor on his breath a mile away.
"How dare you come here like this?" Angelo declared. "Grandmother is dying. Don't you have any respect?"
Tony went back in the room to get Johnny. "Uncle Johnny, Drake's here."
"Thank God," Johnny said and went out into the hallway. Tony followed hesitantly while Pepi remained with Sophia.
"Get off my back, Angelo, I'm warning you," Drake was telling his son just as Johnny and Tony came out of the room.
"Drake," Johnny said, "thank God. She's been asking for you. She says she won't..." Tears appeared in Johnny's eyes for the first time. Perhaps it was seeing Drake standing there, looking so defeated. Maybe it was because his mother was dying and in spite of everything, he still loved her.
"I know how you feel, Drake," Johnny managed to say, "but can you tell her that...that you...forgive her even if you don't mean it. She's dying, Drake. I feel responsible. I said some horrible things to..." He started to cry.
Drake stood perfectly still for a minute while Johnny sobbed. Then he reached out, took him roughly into his arms and held him. He took his face between his hands and then kissed him directly on the mouth.
Angelo and Tony were awestruck. There was such love, such raw passion and emotion between them. It brought a lump to their throats.
Drake let Johnny go. "Don't worry. I'll tell her I forgive her."
"We'll stay here," Johnny said.
"No," Drake said. "Come in. All of you."
When he walked into the room, Pepi flung himself into his arms. Drake hugged him and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "My baby brother," he said softly, tears in his eyes.
He let Pepi go and went over to the bed. "Mama? It's me, it's Drake. Hi."
She opened her eyes and tears spilled down her face.
"My love, are you waiting on the other side for me? Can we be together now? Julia would have understood, my love. She would have..."
"Shush, Mama. What are you talking about? Don't you know me? It's Drake, it's your son."
"Drake's son...my son..." she said softly. "I love you more then my life. My baby. I couldn't let you go. He asked me to take care of you. I promised. I loved you, Drake. I..." She gasped for air.
"Mama, it's okay," he said softly. "Just rest."
"Tell me...tell me you forgive me...please...."
"I do, Mama. I do. I forgive you."
"That night we shared together...it was the most beautiful night of my life. You were so...beautiful, Drake..."
Drake gave Johnny a questio
ning look. Johnny threw it back at him.
Neither Pepi nor his two nephews had a clue as to what was happening. Only Johnny and Drake seemed to have some idea of what she was talking about.
Johnny came to stand on the other side of the bed now, and Sophia turned to look at him. "Love your brother," she breathed. "Love him...and...eh..." Her voice failed her.
Tony ran to get the doctor. She was gone before he got back. They stood in stunned silence as the doctor examined her and pronounced her dead. He wrote the time on his chart, offered his condolences and then left the room.
Johnny stood sobbing softly in the corner. Tony held him, listening in horror as he said, "I killed her, Tony, I killed my own mother."
Angelo stood beside Pepi, who looked as if he had been recently frozen. Both were dry-eyed, as if they hadn't any tears left.
Drake remained beside the bed of the woman who had played the part of his mother all these years. She, who had taken care of him when he had the flu, fed him, walked him to school in grade one, applauded so loudly at his first music recital, scraped together the money to buy him his first guitar. Mama. She was gone and in spite of everything, he never got the chance to thank her for being his mother.
He lowered his head onto her chest and cried.
* * * * * *
The funeral took place three days later, exactly four days before the New Year, back in Brooklyn, New York where the three Russo boys had been raised.
On the day of the funeral, Tony filed out of the church with Angelo, his father, two uncles, Mac and Frank as they carried the coffin to the hearse. The press was everywhere.
Police and private security surrounded the mourners as they processed down the street toward the Catholic Italian cemetery. As they stood at the gravesite, the sound of helicopters loomed overhead and reporters got as close as they could with their wide zoom lenses snapping pictures of the three sons at their mother's funeral.
"Can't they just let up for awhile?" Tony told his cousin angrily. "It's a funeral, for Christ's sakes."
Angelo took his mother's arm as they headed back to the car, looking extremely elegant in his black suit and white shirt. "It's all in a day's work," he told him.
"Welcome to the Russo family, kid."
Tony sighed. "I see what you mean."
The up side of the funeral was that Tony got to meet his grandmother's sister and two second cousins. He also got to stay in the house where his father grew up and see pictures of his grandfather Russo.
They had the reception in that house, a small gathering of family and friends, Mac's parents and former classmates of Drake's, Johnny's and Pepi's. A few celebrities also flew in to pay their respects, mostly people in the rock and roll industry. Others sent cards and flowers, realizing that there would be too many people at the funeral as it was.
The day after the funeral, his dad took Tony around the neighbourhood, showing him where he went to school and the playground where he used to play basketball as a kid. They even shot a few baskets, then called it quits as it started to snow.
That evening, Mac's parents had them all over for supper. The Hayes' were nice people, and it felt good to eat a home-cooked meal.
Later on, back at the house, Drake, Johnny and Pepi began to go through some of Sophia's things.
It was almost ten o'clock when they came down together and took a seat in the small, rather shabby living room.
Tony was half asleep in a chair. Janet was staying at her future in-laws for the night with Mac, and Angelo had been absent for a few hours.
"Where is Angelo?" Drake asked as Tony struggled to sit up in the easy chair.
"I don't know."
"Gone," Pepi announced, turning on the television.
"Gone?" Both Tony and Drake spoke at the same time. Johnny looked perplexed.
"Ya, he said he had to go back to L.A. He's taking his band on the road. They are leaving tomorrow morning."
Tony stood up and walked out of the room.
Drake and Johnny looked at each other.
"Should I or you?" Johnny asked.
"Why don't you let me?" Drake suggested.
They had decided upstairs that tonight they would tell Pepi and their two sons the truth about Drake's parentage. They had worked out exactly what they would say, now Angelo had left.
Drake walked out onto the porch. It was cold. Tony stood outside in his shirtsleeves.
"You're going to freeze out here. This isn't L.A., you know."
Tony turned around and looked at Drake. "He left without even saying goodbye."
"I know. Maybe he thought it would be better that way. Maybe he didn't know how to say goodbye."
Drake suggested.
Tony breathed in the cold night air. "Maybe he just didn't want to."
Drake stamped his feet and slapped his arms a few times. "Cold," he laughed, then sobered. "How do you feel about that?"
"About him leaving without even telling me?" Tony asked. "How do you think I feel? I feel like maybe he'll never come back...maybe I've lost him forever."
"But you didn't want him in the first place," Drake replied.
"I...you're right," Tony muttered. "I didn't...there's others...there's..." he stopped, swallowing hard. "It doesn't matter. It is damn cold out here." He brushed past him and went inside.
"Do you want to tell them separately?" Drake asked Johnny a few minutes later in the kitchen.
"I'll tell Tony, you talk to Pepi," Johnny suggested.
Then added, "Go easy."
It had to be done. Drake took a breath and headed back into the living room. He sat down and began to tell him. When he was finished explaining as much as he actually knew about it, Pepi could only stare at him.
Then after a few minutes, he got up, put on his coat and left the house.
Tony thought his father was joking with him until he took him into Sophia's room and showed Tony the picture. "That's Drake," Tony said. "Good God, Dad, Drake Russo is not my uncle, and he's not your brother either."
"Well, not by blood, but Drake and I will always be brothers."
Tony nodded. "But now...you're free to be...together, aren't you?"
"Yes," Johnny nodded, "but Drake...I don't know. He's not so anxious. I think he needs time to digest all this."
"He'll come around. He loves you, Dad, I know that."
Johnny pulled his son into his arms. "Thanks, Tony, that means a lot." He let him go. "What about you and Angelo?"
Tony shook his head. "It's just...well...it was just a thing, Dad, okay? It's not like that with Angelo and I. It's over...well...there's probably nothing to be over...you know?"
Johnny looked at him. "As long as you're okay with it. I thought you looked kind of upset when you found out he had left."
"I was upset because the bastard didn't say goodbye, that's all!" Tony's voice was shaking.
Johnny placed an arm around his son. "Are you okay with all this?"
"I guess I'll have to be. I hope Uncle Pepi doesn't take it too hard."
"Me too," his father said.
* * * * * *
Drake caught up to Pepi, sitting on the curb in front of the school.
He sat down beside him. "You're going to get haemorrhoids if you sit on this cold pavement too long."
It didn't bring a smile, so Drake let out a sigh instead.
"Pepi, I love you. I always have, and even when you think I wasn't paying enough attention to you...I..." he stopped.
"Drake?" Pepi said.
Drake looked at him. "Ya?"
There were tears in his eyes. "I feel so guilty."
"Why? What for?" Drake turned his face toward him.
"Because I always loved you more than Johnny. When I was little, I was jealous of you and Johnny. He was about your age, and...sometimes, I wished him dead."
"Oh, Pep, that's what kids do, but you didn't mean it. You have nothing to feel guilty about. I love you, kid, I always have. I just don't want this to change anything between us
."
"Drake, you're my big brother. You'll always be, and signed declarations in blood will never change that. Do you understand?" His voice was filled with emotion.
Pepi went into his brother's arms. They held each other. Drake kissed his head. "You know what...I think we should go. Someone is going to go by here, see us kissing and crying and accuse us of being two flaming queens."
Pepi laughed, wiping his tears. "I don't care. I know that I'm not one!"
"You little..." Drake eyed him with a grin. " Anyway, I have a reputation as a heterosexual to protect," Drake teased.
Pepi stood up with him and grinned. "Wearing thin, Drake!"
Drake made a face at him, and they laughed. "Well," Drake threw an arm around Pepi's shoulder when they began to walk toward the house, "I'm glad you still consider me to be your brother, because if you didn't, we'd have to change the name of the band."
"To what?"
"To Drake and the Russo Brothers...hey," he mused, "that's not half bad. I like that."
"Forget it, Drake," Pepi threatened as they continued down the street toward the little house on the corner where they grew up.
"Drake and the Russo Brothers Band...Ya...!" Drake cried, beginning to run.
Pepi chased him, picking up handfuls of snow and flinging it at him. "No way, jerkoff...no bloody way!"
The scene had a familiar quality to it. It might as well have been twenty years ago.
When Johnny heard them outside, he smiled. He and Tony went to the door and watched them out the window, throwing snow at each other.
"Look at them," Johnny grinned at his son, putting an arm around him. "Drake thinks he's twelve again. Oh, shit, there goes Pepi," he laughed as Pepi took a fall on the front lawn.
Drake got him good then, washing his face with snow as Pepi hollered, "Johnny...Johnny, help me. Don't just stand there! He's killing me!"
"Come inside, you two," Johnny poked his head out the door. "You're going to wake up everybody in the neighbourhood," he complained with a grin.
He shooed them in the front door and then went into the kitchen to make hot chocolate just like Mama would have. The three brothers sat around the table, jabbing at each other like when they were kids and for those moments, all was as it should be.
