Goodnight, Brian

by Steven Manchester

  She shook her head. “Maybe it’s nothing…but she’d have to be real sick to miss this benefit.”

  The following morning, Heidi, Steph and the family – Brian, Angie, Lauren, Peter, Joan, Frank, John – met at Bob and Bev’s house so they could all go out for brunch before setting up the hall. When they got to Roger’s Spa on the corner, each of them ordered their meal and then shared the current details of their lives. As they finished eating, Heidi began to hand out assignments. “Uncle Frank and Brian, can you please pick up the balloons? Aunt Joan and Uncle John, can you please pick up the pastries from the local high school’s culinary arts program? Then meet the rest of us at the hall.”

  As they walked out of the restaurant, Steph put her arm around her sister and asked, “You think we’re ready for this incredible night?”

  “God, I hope so,” she sighed and tried to shrug off the intense pressure that pushed down on her shoulders.

  They headed out to East Greenwich. When they got there, the hall was completely desolate. They had to arrange all the tables and chairs to fit like a perfect puzzle. Everyone had a role. Some set up tables and chairs, while others laid out tablecloths, put out raffle items and snacks on the tables, or began to keep track of the money. The silent auction table was set up, while banners and balloons were also put out.

  No sooner had the family finished their work and changed their clothes when a noisy crowd stampeded into the hall. Although there was no need to turn away anyone at the door, it was a sold out show, with two hundred fifty people filling the seats – each one eagerly waiting to laugh.

  Heidi took the microphone and, standing beside Steph and Brian, made the night’s first announcement. “From the bottom of our hearts, my sister, my cousin and I want to thank each and every one of you for offering your support. Without people like you, these wonderful organizations would never be able to help all the children that they do.”

  Brian raised his hands and applauded the audience. They happily returned it to him.

  Heidi added, “So, please have a great time tonight, allow yourself to be generous and know that for some kids who have faced unspeakable obstacles, you’ve just made all the difference in the world.”

  The hall echoed with applause, with Brian clapping the loudest.

  Steph grabbed the microphone and said, “So without further ado, let’s get on with the show. If you don’t laugh tonight, you might want to consider medication.”

  With the help of a busy cash bar, people laughed for the first time and the sisters felt a few pounds slip off their shoulders.

  Denis Donovan took the stage and from the first word out of his mouth, people were rolling in the aisles. The comedy was sensational and the crowd roared for two straight hours.

  But even when the jokes ended, the night did not. People had really gotten into the Chinese raffle, putting all the tickets they bought into the cups of the prizes they wanted to win. The more coveted prizes included a weekend get-away for two on Cape Cod, several rounds of golf and three private vineyard tours.

  Steph called out the numbers drawn, while Brian handed out prizes to fifty lucky winners. Heidi then took the stage one last time and announced, “It’s with incredible gratitude that I can announce our grand total – to be split between the Rhode Island Special Olympics and the St. Jude’s Hospital – is eleven thousand, one hundred fifty-seven dollars.”

  There was enormous applause – most of it coming from the family table. When the roar of the crowd died down, Brian grabbed the microphone and faced the audience. “Ten you,” he said, extending his heartfelt appreciation to the crowd. “Ten you…much.”

  For a moment, a respectful silence blanketed the enormous room.

  Steph wrapped her arm around her cousin, leaned into the microphone and said, “Brian speaks for our entire family, as we want to thank you all for coming out tonight and supporting these two incredible causes. There have been many local businesses that stepped up and have pledged their support. Amongst them are Hutchins & Sons Enterprises, Rodriguez Home Maintenance, Express Printing, North Attleboro Patrolman’s Union and members of the Massachusetts Department of Correction.”

  Everyone applauded.

  Heidi said, “We also need to acknowledge the folks who volunteered their time and effort, and made the Laughter & Miracles Comedy Benefit a reality, as well as my cousin Brian and my grandmother for inspiring this event.” Overwhelmed with emotion, she looked toward the family table, knowing that the old lady would be absent. She has to be feeling just awful to miss this, she thought.

  “Lastly, we’d like to thank The Mauretti Family, Brad Cowen, Stephanie Grossi, Victor DeSousa, Allen Correiro, Tommy Rodrigues, Kevin Aguiar, Bobby Leite – and, of course, Denis Donovan, and his cast of comedians. I want to thank them all and let them know that they each get a few months off…because Laughter & Miracles II is only a year away!”

  With a final laugh, the hall emptied out.

  It was late. After placing calls to Steph and Brian, Mama called Heidi.

  “We raised over eleven thousand dollars!” Heidi reported in a hoarse voice.

  “I heard. That’s wonderful! I couldn’t go to sleep without congratulating each of you, sweetheart,” Mama said.

  “Thanks, Mama.”

  “No, Heidi – thank you. I can’t tell you how proud I am,” she said. “You’re really making a difference in this world.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “I just got off the phone with Brian and I don’t know if he’s told you yet, but he said that he wants to start volunteering with the Special Olympics…helping to train the younger kids.”

  Instantly, Heidi choked up and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. Those simple words made every hour of effort worthwhile.

  “You and your sister planted a seed inside of him, Heidi, and who knows how big this will grow…how many people it will touch.”

  Once Mama finished her prayers, she checked the temperature on the heating pads and slowly slid into bed. Like a woman in heavy labor, she breathed through the pain and meditated on releasing it from her body. “I feel good,” she affirmed, “I feel good. I feel good. I feel…”

  The taste of salt air was strong on her lips and tongue. In the late afternoon sun, Mama walked closer toward the shore to discover that the fishermen mending nets were now pale and paunchy, and that the nets were now two fishing poles entangled in each other’s lines. The tanned and weathered Italian sailors were gone, replaced by Herbie and Arthur. She laughed when she saw them. They were too busy arguing to take notice.

  “You’re an idiot,” Herbie told Arthur. “And no one knows it better than you.”

  “I’m the idiot? You cast your line over mine and I’m the idiot? No wonder no one else’ll fish with ya.”

  “That’s crap and you know it. No one else will fish with me because I’m always sitting on the side of the village idiot.”

  Chuckling, Mama walked past them and shook her head. “Evenin’, boys,” she called out.

  They looked up for a second and tipped their hats to her. “Evenin’ Mama,” they said in unison before returning to their endless quarrel.

  She strolled through the neighborhood. Most houses were painted in driftwood gray with white trim. A narrow wooden placard was attached to each house, names like Rainbow’s End and Serenity labeling each stop. Amidst the seagulls, American flags took up the skyline, popping in the sea winds. Driveways of crushed, bleached-white seashells led to wrap around porches and faded cedar shingles. In one yard, an open fire pit was surrounded by abandoned Adirondack chairs.

  On pain-free legs, she walked on to enjoy the laughter of children at play. A baseball game played on some radio; the Boston Red Sox rallying to win. A sprinkler head spit a steady mist of water into the salty air. Mesquite briquettes and barbecued meat challenged the smell of that same salt air. People who worked in their yards appeared just as happy as the couples who walked by, holding hands. As she reached the shore, she took in the small bay that was protec
ted from the elements. When other folks on the coast got beaten up in bad weather, those here were as safe as a baby in her mother’s bosom. A row of red and yellow sea kayaks – stacked upright, side-by-side and leaning on each other – led to the concrete stairs down to the sand. She looked at the posted sign, No Dogs Allowed, and chuckled. No one’s ever paid attention to that, she thought.

  Taking one deep breath after the next, she walked along the beach. Broken shells and stones as smooth as glass lay ahead of her, while a set of temporary footprints lay behind. She paused at a massive chunk of battered driftwood and leaned against it. There was a fifteen-degree difference in temperature at the water and, with a constant breeze, it couldn’t have been any more comfortable. The water lapped at the shore, creating a natural rhythm. Mother Nature’s lullaby, she thought. A few yards up the beach, white overturned skiffs led to an abandoned catamaran with its sails down. Turning toward the water, she gazed at the fleet of small motor and flat bottom boats – all moored or anchored, slowly drifting in circles. And then she spotted the two beach chairs – one big and one small – sitting side-by-side. Overwhelmed with an inexplicable sense of joy, she laughed aloud.

  The sunset was miraculous and she took a seat in the larger beach chair to watch the water color masterpiece come to life. Purple, orange and pink faded together, creating a color that Crayola had not yet duplicated. Hypnotized by the raw beauty, she lost any sense of time; any real sense of herself. It was the greatest blessing she’d ever known.

  The evening breeze brought a million stars that twinkled above. The tide continued to run in rhythm with her breathing. She’d never known such peace and she cherished it. Suddenly, she noticed that the pretty beach house at the end of their little world was lit up with tiny white lights that framed a gazebo. She squinted and discovered a couple locked in a passionate embrace. Love is the best excuse for living, she thought. It might just be the only excuse…

  Mama awakened in a cold sweat, her body curled up in the fetal position. She struggled to straighten out her legs, but couldn’t. She reached for the nightstand three times before she knocked the bottle of pills onto the bed. With deformed and frozen fingers, she somehow managed to twist off the cap, palm a few and jam them into her mouth. Without water, she choked them down. She rolled over on her back and lay there, the tears streaming down her face. She stared up at the crucifix that hung over the doorway. “Why couldn’t you just let me stay?” she asked. “Please Lord…please bring me home. I can’t take this pain anymore.” She sobbed like a baby, weeping right up until the medication took its full effect and paralyzed her senses.

  Chapter 27

  Fall 1994

  No longer able to keep her secret, Mama finally told everyone about her dream of Jesus. “The same week that I learned I had cancer, I had a dream that I was gardening at the side of the cottage near St. Jude’s statue when Jesus walked up the driveway and approached me. With a smile, He extended His hand. ‘Are you ready?’ He asked. I was filled with such an amazing peace. I told Him, ‘I am, but Brian’s not.’” Joyful tears streamed down her face. “Jesus looked at Brian and glowed with such love. He nodded once and walked away. That’s when I knew I was dying, but that everything was going to be all right.”

  Though the family had suspected long ago, the shock and terror still took hold.

  Against her will – and some serious debate – Mama was admitted into the hospital for more tests and some much-needed treatment.

  While Bob and John took their shift at the hospital with Mama, the rest of the family gathered at her cottage. As they all talked and laughed, Joan made two trays of her mother’s famous spinach pies, covering them with dish towels and letting them cool on a plastic tablecloth on Mama’s bed. By her side, Bev tried her hand at the old lady’s ravioli and red gravy. It tasted almost as good, but something was definitely missing.

  Seated at Mama’s old kitchen table, the grandkids looked through one photo album after the next. Yellow, dog-eared pages filled the cracked, fake leather books. Steph took note of the dates marked on each binding and shook her head. “Mama has the organizational skills of an accountant,” she noted.

  Heidi agreed. “And, she’s been into scrapbooking long before it was a popular pastime.”

  They all agreed.

  “It seems so strange to be in the cottage without Mama here,” Steph said. “Every time I smell dryer sheets, Jean Nate or garlic, I’m reminded that I’m not alone…that she’s always with me.”

  Lauren wrapped her arms around Steph’s shoulders and held her close.

  “I’ve decided to cut my hair and donate it to young cancer patients,” Steph announced. “I can finally cut my hair without Mom complaining,” she teased.

  Bev took a break from the stove and joined Lauren to hug her good-hearted daughter.

  Angie sat beside Brian, pawing through the photo albums – marveling over the hundreds of memories. Placing her hands on her shoulders, Aunt Bev asked her, “So your mom tells me that you already know what you want to major in in college. A little early to make that decision, isn’t it?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I want Social Work, with a concentration on disabled children and their families.” She grinned. “I want to make sure that the families ask the right questions and get the right answers.”

  Everyone chuckled at the irony.

  Angie shrugged. “I don’t want to see anyone go through what my mother’s had to go through. If I can help in any way, then that’s what I want to do.” Her mind wandered as she thought about all the sacrifices the entire family had made; all the time and attention that had to be focused on her disabled brother. She remembered the day her father left the house; she recalled watching her submissive mother cave in to dominant men and more educated people who thought they knew what was best for Brian, even when they didn’t. She knew her reputation as the negative one in the family was a direct result of being angry about growing up in that environment. Now she wanted to turn that negative attitude into something positive.

  Joan joined the clan at the table and asked Heidi and Peter, “Are you guys enjoying New York?”

  “We are,” Heidi answered. “We miss being around the family all the time, of course, but it’s the best thing for my career.” She stared at one of the pictures in the photo album and her eyes filled. It was a picture of Mama and all the grandkids on one of their many summer adventures. Brian was sitting on Mama’s lap, kissing her cheek while she smiled at the camera. “We’ll be up for the holidays and as much as we can during the summer.”

  “And for the comedy fundraiser in March?” Ross asked, home on leave from the Army.

  She nodded, her eyes still peeled on the hazy photo. “Absolutely. I’d never want to let Mama down.” Peter hugged her.

  Ross looked at his wife, Isabella, and rubbed her swollen belly. She hugged him.

  “You guys pick a name yet?” Joan asked him.

  He smiled. “Christopher,” he answered. “Christopher Jude.” He looked at his brother Brian and took a deep breath. “…after Mama’s two favorite saints.”

  The entire room sighed.

  Angie hugged her big brother Brian, but quickly pushed him away and shot him a disgusted look. “Dragon breath,” she said.

  Everyone laughed – except her.

  “Did you brush your teeth today?” she asked him.

  He shook his head.

  “Use your words!” she demanded in a harsh tone.

  “Nah,” he said, dropping his gaze from her.

  “What? You know better, Brian. Mama would have your neck if she were here. Now go to the bathroom and get cleaned up – face, hands, teeth, and use the electric shaver that Dad got you,” she ordered.

  “Yets, A…E,” he acknowledged, searching for approval in her sharp eyes.

  With a nod, she smiled at him, letting him know she wasn’t angry.

  He hugged her before hurrying off to the bathroom to do as he was told.

  A
ngie turned to face the others. They were all smiling.

  “If I didn’t know better,” Heidi said, “I’d swear I just witnessed Mama’s torch for Brian being officially handed to you.”

  Angie smiled, proudly. “Even if Mama is in the hospital, Brian needs to move forward, not back.”

  “But what about your reputation?” Steph teased. “What will people think?”

  Angie shrugged, and then smiled wider. “God knows…and that’s enough.”

  As the family prepared to leave the cottage, Brian spotted a deer standing on Mama’s front lawn. It was a doe, looking out over the bay. “Mama!” he squealed and everyone came running out to the porch to see.

  Once the deer left, the family decided to do the same. Joan was the last one out. With a smile, she shut off the lights and stepped out of the cottage.

  At five minutes before eight o’clock, Brian headed for the telephone and waited.

  The phone rang. It was Mama, sneaking a call from the hospital.

  He picked up the receiver. “Allo Mama,” he said, without hearing her voice.

  “Hello sweetheart,” she whispered. “How was your day today?”

  “K. You?”

  She chuckled. “Better than yesterday, thanks. Now tell me about your day.”

  He’d planted daisies in the yard, pot and all, and told his grandmother about his gift to her. “Daze you.”

  “Yes, I know, sweetheart. John told me they’re beautiful. Thank you so much for doing that for me, Brian.”

  “Mama weecome.”

  The following afternoon, Angie approached the auditorium’s lectern to deliver her scholarship-winning essay. She cleared her throat and said, “The person I admire most is my grandmother; the woman I was named after. Angela Isabelle DiMartino – or Mama, as most of us know her – has lived a life that could breathe inspiration into the coldest heart. Just a simple smile or one kind word from her can make someone trudge on – no matter how bad things seem. She gives of herself with such conviction and unconditional love that you know you’re a better person just by being in her presence, and you strive every day to become a fraction of who she is. And although she makes sure that each one of us feels special, there has never been any question that her favorite has always been my brother, Brian.