Goodnight, Brian

by Steven Manchester

  The North End – Little Italy, as most knew it – was a magical land. For a place so congested, it possessed a wonderful feeling of freedom. Those who were baptized within its confines rarely ever left and usually died in the same flats that they were born in. In total, it was no more than five city blocks, yet it was an island all unto itself; a safe harbor in a sea of giant skyscrapers.

  Strings of white lights were hung across the glistening streets. Giant wreaths were strapped to each lamp post. As they started down Hanover Street, Mama gawked at a row of warmly-lit brownstones where her childhood memories lined up like one movie scene after the next. By the glow in her eyes, Joan, Bev and the kids could see the old film reel playing in her mind.

  Clay pottery and wrought iron café chairs sat on balconies and fire escapes, betraying hints of warmer days. Colored Christmas lights framed most windows and were payment enough to endure the frigid air. Mama’s smile was contagious.

  An old man whistled at her.

  “Ooooh,” Bev teased. “Looks like you have a gentleman admirer, Ma.”

  Mama shook her head. “Yeah, sure. Just like a dog chasing a fire truck. If he ever caught me, he wouldn’t know what to do with me.”

  They laughed.

  As they strolled along, Mama turned to both Joan and Bev. “Any reason Frank and Bob decided not to join us today?”

  “Bob said it was more of a girls’ night out,” Bev answered, before hurrying the kids ahead – until they were a safe distance from Joan’s explanation.

  Not wanting to continue the lies, Joan struggled for the words. “It’s just that…”

  “It’s okay, Joan. I know Frank hates me,” Mama announced, bluntly.

  Joan shook her head. “He doesn’t hate you, Ma. He just…he just doesn’t know how to handle all of this with Brian. He never has. I can’t imagine the torment of feeling uncomfortable around your own son. He’s had a difficult time with it all and he’s too proud to admit it.” She shook her head again. “Deep down, he knows you’re right…but it kills him that he can’t give Brian the same tough love.”

  Mama nodded. Although Joan expected a verbal barrage to follow, the old woman never uttered another word about it.

  Just past Dominic’s Bar, Mama led her willing flock into the butcher shop. As they entered, a brass bell rang. The paunchy, middle-aged man hunched behind the glass case stood erect to greet his new customers. He wore a white coat, stained red above the pockets, where he’d obviously wiped his bloody hands a hundred times. He was bald with two black clumps of hair just above his ears. When he recognized Mama, he gave her a big smile, displaying a wide gap between his two front teeth. “Angela, what’ll it be this year…ham or turkey?”

  “Ham, two of them, and the biggest you have. And leave in the bone on both of them. I know how you butchers like to steal the flavor from the meat and then sell it again to someone who wants to make the same soup that I can make.”

  He laughed. “You hurt my feelings, suggesting that I’d…”

  “You’d have to have feelings for that,” she teased.

  He laughed again, wiped his hands on his filthy coat and headed for the back room to get the full hams.

  Mama bent down to the kids, who were fogging up the butcher’s meat case. “Don’t ever let anyone take something from you that you’re not willing to give.”

  They each nodded, oblivious to her intended lesson.

  “Amen to that,” Joan mumbled.

  Three blocks down Hanover, they arrived at Saint Anthony’s Church. At the black wrought iron gate, Mama pressed the buzzer. In the bitter cold, they waited a few minutes before she became annoyed. She pushed the buzzer again, this time longer than needed.

  A young priest appeared in the rectory’s threshold. He descended the stairs, turned up the collar on his jacket and scurried across the short courtyard to the gate. “Good afternoon, Mrs. DiMartino. What can I do for you today?” he asked, as he struggled to open the gate.

  She looked into both butcher’s bags and handed him the bigger of the two hams. “Father, this is for the family who needs it most this Christmas…in my mother’s memory.”

  “You’re very kind, Mrs. DiMartino. Thank you.”

  “I just thank the good Lord that I’m still able to do it.”

  “Amen,” the priest said and hurried back toward the warmth of his rectory.

  As Mama started to walk away, Steph looked up at her grandmother. “Why did you do that?” she asked.

  “It’s been a tradition for years now,” she explained. “After my mother passed away and went to heaven, I needed a way to honor her memory on the holiday that she loved most – Christmas. So I decided to help a less fortunate family in her name, and buy them the biggest turkey or ham that the butcher had in his shop.” She shrugged. “I’ve been doing it every Christmas since.”

  Each of the children nodded again. This time, the lesson was understood.

  “In some ways, it’s a selfish act on my part.”

  Their heads flew up in confusion.

  “By giving to others, it fills a need inside of me,” she explained.

  They walked for a bit until Steph finally suggested, “But it’s a good type of selfish, right? Like how we feel when we teach Brian something.”

  Mama nodded. “Exactly! It’s the only good type of selfish there is,” she said, and then stopped to look down at them. “We don’t take money to the grave – only our deeds. And what we do for others before ourselves are the greatest deeds of all. Remember that.” She looked down at Brian and winked. “Someone very wise taught me that.”

  They each nodded, but their thoughts were already set on Mike’s Pastry Shop just up ahead.

  Mama smiled and took a quick left into Mike’s. Biscotti, anise cookies, bags of almond candies, and dozens of decadent cream-filled, chocolate frosted pastries lined the glass shelves. The kids squealed in delight at the promise of a sweet surprise.

  As they continued their hike, everyone devoured their treats and took in all the details of a world that was locked in a different time. Beyond the gelato shop – with a rainbow of colors in the front window – they passed an empty lot that sold Christmas trees and handed out free cups of steaming cocoa. An old man waved from his makeshift office. “Hey Angie, you out slumming tonight?”

  Mama stopped. “Out shopping for my four babies,” she called out. “How ‘bout some hot chocolate for these angels?”

  Right away, he started pouring out a Styrofoam cup from the dented, silver urn. “Come and get it,” he told the kids.

  One block from the end of Hanover Street, Pleasant Drugstore displayed the latest Christmas decorations in its giant window. Ross’ eyes begged his mom to go in. With a nod, Joan set him loose.

  Following Ross, Mama led the kids upstairs. Fake Christmas trees, decorated in all the latest lights and ornaments, were lined up like some fairyland forest. Three mirrored walls created the illusion that the plastic forest went on for acres. Ross loved the place so much that he plopped down in the middle of the trees and drifted off into a deep hypnotic trance.

  “Get up, Ross,” Heidi began to warn him. “We…”

  Mama stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. We have time,” she whispered. “Ross thinks he’s at the North Pole right now and who are we to tell him that he’s not?” She patted Brian on the head. “Trust me, the harder you believe in something, the more real it will become.”

  While Joan and Bev nodded, Steph took a seat beside her little cousin and stared at all the twinkling, colored lights. Everyone knew that Mama wasn’t talking about Christmas trees.

  Mama’s next stop was at the statue of the Virgin Mother, whom she adored. Some threw change into the fountain at her feet and made wishes – but not Mama. While the kids looked on, she kneeled on the frozen concrete and offered her prayers. And no one had to guess who most of those prayers were for. While Joan ensured that Brian stayed bundled up in the stroller, Bev and the kids joined the old
matriarch on the ground.

  When Mama blessed herself and struggled to stand, Steph inquired, “Asking God to make Brian better?”

  Mama looked down at her and smiled. “Nope. Thanking God for all of you…and for allowing Brian to walk.”

  “But he hasn’t yet,” Heidi interrupted.

  Mama stopped in her tracks and turned to face her granddaughter.

  Heidi cringed, expecting to be scolded.

  Mama smiled. “That’s right – yet. See, you believe it’s going to happen, too.” She pinched Heidi’s cheeks. “Now that’s faith, sweetheart.”

  The young girl’s neck shot a wave of heat up her face. Compliments from Mama were more valuable than any present found under a twinkling tree.

  During their hearty lunch at Rosa’s, Mama shared a story to teach her grandchildren a glimpse of where they came from. “When my mother – your great grandmother – was a little girl, she was sad after hearing that baby Jesus had nowhere to sleep. So, she asked her mom for some tin foil and formed it into a small bed. She then put a soft cotton baby blanket inside it and placed the homemade manger under their Christmas tree…”

  “So baby Jesus would have a place to sleep?” Ross asked.

  Mama nodded. “That’s right.”

  Joan and Bev looked at each other and smiled. Mama’s simple teachings instilled more spiritual learning than a dozen of Father Benton’s monotone sermons.

  “Is that why you put the aluminum foil manger under the tree every year?” Steph asked.

  Mama nodded. “Family traditions are important. And it’s even more important that Jesus knows He’s welcome in our home.”

  Rosa flew out from behind the red door and approached the table. “How was the lunch?” she asked.

  Mama curled each of her fingers into her thumb and kissed them. “Perfecto,” she said, and then opened her hand. Watching this, each of the kids did the same. Brian, however, kissed his fist and then threw it forward in a different display of gratitude.

  Rosa laughed. “You a good boy,” she told him.

  On the way out, Mama pointed up at the oil painting of the Italian countryside and daydreamed aloud. “Someday, Mama’s going to hit the lottery and take you all there.” Her eyes grew distant. “Siena and San Gimignano are two of Italy’s beautiful medieval towns. They say Siena is like a postcard, with its red terra cotta rooftops and cobblestone streets. They host a world-famous horse race each summer, where neighborhoods compete against each other to win a portrait of the Virgin Mary. And just south of Siena, there are thermal springs or baths that were used to cure sickness during Roman times. San Gimignano is known as the Medieval Manhattan for its skyline of towers. Twelve of the original towers are still standing. Noble families actually competed with each other to build the tallest one. The city is laid-back and was made famous in the movie, Tea With Mussolini…” Mama looked up from her daydream to find the children considering the possibilities of visiting Italy, while Joan and Bev exchanged their usual smirks. She laughed and guided them back out to their walking adventure.

  When the happy group reached the end of Hanover Street, they came upon a brick-faced three-story tenement. An old abandoned restaurant named Lucia’s was on the first floor, its green and white striped awning stained and torn. Mama stopped in her tracks and stared at the building the same way that Ross had gawked at the Pleasant Drugstore Christmas trees. She breathed deep and let out a long sigh. “My Aunt Lucille and Uncle Bob used to own this place,” she began to explain. “My mom ran the kitchen, and me and Uncle Sal were raised on the second floor. There wasn’t a better place to grow up. Families were very tight-knit and protective of each other, and everyone was somehow related to everyone else. The person you knew the least still called himself your third or fourth cousin.” She scanned the street behind them. “On Hanover Street, it seemed as if we were untouched by the tragedies of the world, as if there were invisible walls that protected us…and nothing could hurt us as long as we stayed within its borders. Back then, it wasn’t uncommon for a small child to walk the street at night – either to return a borrowed dish or deliver a package to a neighbor – and still be safe. During the day, everyone peddled some type of goods right in the street – from shoe shines and ice to vegetables, fish and cookware. People rarely had to leave the neighborhood to get whatever they needed. Even for the most special occasions, the corner jeweler could find just the right gift and throw it on the passbook so that customers could make small payments each week.” She nodded and smiled. “We had parades in the summer and Christmas lights in the winter. This street was just as much a part of home as anything that happened within the tenement houses. There are so many wonderful memories here. It really was a beautiful place to grow up…” Her voice trailed off and became as distant as her eyes.

  Joan, Bev and the kids quietly stood by, allowing her the time she needed.

  She wiped her eyes, looked down at her grandchildren and paused for their full attention. “Enjoy every minute you have together because it goes by faster than you could ever imagine,” she promised. “And always be there for each other…always!”

  The kids promised that they would.

  Mama took one more look at the apartment house and then turned around to face the long walk back down Hanover. She sighed heavily, summoning the energy to make it back to the train, and held out both hands for the kids to latch on. “Okay then, let’s go home and get ready for Santa Claus.”

  It was later than they planned when they returned to the cottage with the kids. Before Mama even took off her coat, she filled a large pan with water and put it on the stove to boil. She then removed another pan from the refrigerator and pulled back the cellophane wrap. It was her red gravy, or at least the start of it. She submerged her finger and then stuck it into her mouth. “Mmmm,” she said, smacking her lips together. “This batch could make Rosa jealous.”

  Without having to be told, the kids dumped their coats onto Mama’s bed and stampeded into the bathroom to get washed up. While Bev headed for the kitchen to help her motherin-law start dinner, Joan stripped Brian out of his snowsuit and placed him on the living room floor.

  After throwing their coats onto Mama’s bed, she returned to find Brian sitting only a few feet from the coffee table. “Can you be a good boy for a few minutes, while Mommy helps Mama finish supper?” she asked him, before grabbing at her rumbling abdomen.

  He never responded, nor did he even look up to acknowledge her. He was too busy staring at the coffee table’s skinny legs.

  “I’ll take your silence as a yes, then,” she said, and left him to play.

  Mama was chopping onions and Bev was preparing the garlic bread. Joan stood in the kitchen doorway for a minute. Something’s wrong, she thought. A sudden sensation had come over her – instinctive and maternal – that made her spin on her heels to see what it was.

  Both of Brian’s small hands were gripped on the lip of the coffee table and he was actually pulling himself up. With a final grunt, he stood erect and wobbled. Joan’s eyes flew open and her jaw went slack. For a moment, Brian just stood there. And then he looked over at his mother. “Ma…Ma,” he said and shot her his million-dollar smile.

  “Ma!” Joan screamed. “Come here…quick!”

  Mama and Bev came running from the kitchen and caught Brian’s mischievous smile just before he wobbled once and went down on his bum.

  While the kids looked on in the living room doorway, Mama turned to Joan. Together, they both started crying. “I’m telling you, Joan,” Mama whimpered, pulling her daughter to her chest. “Your son’s going to walk tall and proud.”

  “Oh, Mama,” Joan moaned, overwhelmed. It felt like this one moment was the culmination of countless hours of worry, patience and prayer. “Thank God.”

  “Thank God, is right,” Mama said. With bent hands that stunk of onions, she grabbed Joan’s face and kissed her forehead. “Brian’s entire life is a miracle. It has been from the moment he was born.” She tho
ught about it and snickered to herself. “And to think that the doctors sentenced him to fail…”

  Ross ran to his brother and hugged him long and hard. Everyone else quickly joined in. While they celebrated his miraculous feat, Heidi blurted, “But he only stood for a second before he fell down,”

  “And he’s going to keep falling for months,” Mama said, “maybe even years. But he’s going to walk! As sure as the good Lord’s watching right now, he’s going to walk and we’ve just witnessed his first step, sweetheart.”

  Joan and Bev nodded in agreement. “He couldn’t crawl for almost two years, but he’s getting around pretty good now, isn’t he?” Joan added, trying to compose herself. She hurried for the telephone to call Frank.

  Brian was now on the floor, scurrying on all fours toward the kitchen.

  Mama went after him. “He must smell my red gravy,” she joked, and swept him up into her arms on the way. “Okay, buddy, now that you can stand, we need to see about getting you out of those stinky diapers.” She nibbled his plump belly.

  He squealed in laughter.

  Joan returned to the living room and said, “Frank’s on his way from…” She stopped, covered her mouth with her hand and ran off to the bathroom.

  Mama followed her in and watched, as her daughter retched over the toilet bowl. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked.

  Joan looked up from her knees and shrugged. “I don’t know. All of a sudden, I feel so nauseous and…” She vomited again.

  Mama grabbed her hair, pulling it away from her face and the toilet. She studied Joan’s face and smiled.

  Joan never noticed. “I must have caught some bug,” she said.

  Mama nodded. “Do you think that maybe Frank could’ve given you that bug?”