Maybe This Life (8 page)

Lena pondered that for a while. She hoped there was some kind of future for her and Rick. He’d certainly reawakened her soul. And her heart was finally, genuinely smiling.

The Tavern had emptied out by 2am. Rick performed longer than usual since he had Matty joining him.  He worried that Lena was bored or tired.  He knew she’d never say so, being so polite and all, but he worried just the same. What kind of man brings a girl out on a first date…and hardly spends any time with her?  He needed to make a better impression.

He paid Jack his tab and said good-night to the owner. “You ready, Lena?” He sighed, sorry the night had to end. He helped to pull out her chair as she got up, then took her hand. With her hand in his, they slowly walked to the car.  There was a nip in the air tonight, so Rick took his hand from Lena’s and wrapped his arm around her. “I owe you another date, I think.”

“What? What d’you mean?” Lena's contorted expression signaled bewilderment.

“I mean,” Rick turned her by the arm to look at him when they reached his Jeep. “I owe you a real date. One where I’m actually an active participant in
said
date.” Rick grinned, emphasizing his playfulness.

“Oh.” Lena laughed. “Rick, I had a wonderful time. You were awesome up there tonight.”

“Yeah, up there.” He pointed toward the bar. “But on a date, I shouldn’t have been…up there.  I should have been right here,” he said, pointing at the spot in front of her.  Then he held her with his finger and thumb by the chin and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “Can I take you out tomorrow night?”

“Really? You don’t
have
to.”

“Well, unless you’d rather read those books you’ve been waiting on?”

Another gentle chuckle came from Lena. “No.  I’d much rather see
you
than read.”  Her face turned a lovely shade of pink and Rick thought,
at long last, I’ve found what I’ve been searching for.

Later that night, sitting in his recliner, he had no desire to light a cigarette. No desire to reach the girl from his past.  He was quite content…right here in the present.

***********

Lena put her head on her pillow that night and smiled to herself as she closed her eyes and thought about this evening. Being with Rick felt wonderful.  His hand felt just right when he held hers.  His kiss was …perfect on her lips.  When he hugged her goodbye at her door, she knew that in his arms she was meant to be…like being lost…and finding her way back home. Words really couldn’t describe the comfort and safety she felt when Rick held her, but the feelings were there.  Whether she could describe them or not, Rick was where she needed to be…who she'd been
destined
to be with.

That was the last thought that blanketed her mind before she fell asleep…the last thought before her nightly dreams took over.  Only this time, they didn’t start off horribly.

He had his guitar across his lap, tapping on it like it was a drum.  She peered out her door.

“What are you doing here?  I saw you from the window.” She held herself in nervous composure. If Mother wakes...and…and …finds me…out here with you…well, she will just have my hide…
and
yours.”

“Angie.” He smiled up at her, melting her heart. “You are...so…lovely.” He stood to greet her.

“Oh, Richard, stop.  I mean it.  If Mother sees you, I will be in so much trouble.”

“Do you have a book on you?"

“Yes.  You know I always do.” Angie reached inside her apron pocket and pulled out her favorite book,
Elizabeth Bennet or, Pride and Prejudice.
“But what does that have to do with your being here?”

“Well.” Richard’s demonic grin implied something was up his sleeve. “If your sorry excuse for a mother wakes up from her drunken coma,
I
will run back to the store and
you
can say you were out here reading.”

“Richar…”

“Shh.” He put his fingers to Angie’s mouth. “Sit.  I want to play you something.”

They sat down on her front stoop.

“I have been working on this," he said, as he played his guitar. "I do not have the words yet, but I have been working on the melody.  If you are ever allowed to come to my house, I can play it on our piano for you, but until then, my guitar will have to do.”

Angie sighed.

“Just listen.”

His fingers on the guitar moved as if they were part of the instrument – the sound coming from it, soft and pleasant. He hummed while he played. Angie closed her eyes and rocked side to side to the slow melody of his guitar playing.

Lena roused, the mellow musical tune still in her head, the feeling of love, still in her heart.  She thought of Richard…and his fingers on the guitar…the passion she felt for the teenage boy who sat beside her.  The teenage boy?  Richard?

Lena opened her eyes. My goodness. It was only a dream. A darn dream. A blessed dream. At least this dream had been a happy one.  It reminded her of her date last night with Rick.  And they had another date waiting on the horizon. She couldn’t wait for tonight, to see Rick again. Lena hadn’t felt this exuberant in a long time. She no longer had the feeling of a heavy heart weighing her down.  No longer did she have to be afraid of Vince, he was out of her life.

It was only eight in the morning, and Lena had nothing to do until later this evening.  But she was too wound up to get back to sleep.  Instead, she got herself a cup of coffee and brought it to her room.  Reading a book while propped up in bed under the warm covers was one of her favorite things to do.  She had been wanting to re-read her Jane Austen novels, and today would be perfect for reading a classic.

The time went by quite quickly when Lena had a novel in hand.  Had the buzzing of her cell phone not brought her back to reality, she wouldn't have been aware that it was already eleven o'clock.

“Hello?” She managed to get to her phone, before it turned over to voicemail.

“Good Morning, Lena.” She heard the familiar warm voice on the other end.  “Did I allow you to sleep-in long enough?”

“Hi, Rick. I’ve been up a while now.” Lena couldn’t believe he called her so early.  That must mean that he enjoyed last night as much as she did.  Even though, like he said, they didn’t spend all that much time together.

“I was wondering if, instead of waiting until this evening, I could pick you up this afternoon. I’d like to spend the day with you…If you don’t mind?”

She’d love to! “Oh, sure, that'd be nice. When?  I’m not ready right now.”

“How ‘bout in an hour?  I’ll take you to lunch.”

Oh my goodness, an hour?  To get ready?  Really?  “An hour’s perfect,” Lena lied.

“Good.  I’ll pick you up at noon.”

Lena could not believe it.  He wanted to spend the day with her.  What would she wear?  She couldn’t get too dressed up. Who knows what they would be doing the rest of the day.  Should she wear a miniskirt, jeans, leggings?  And oh my goodness, what shoes?

Well those dilemmas would have to wait until after her shower.  She needed time to let her hair air-dry a little before she blew it dry.

Promptly, Rick rang her doorbell...at precisely twelve noon. She checked herself in the mirror. Gap jeans, brown Durango boots, white tee, sienna-colored hoodie with a leather pull-string.  Her dark brownish-black hair was pulled into two loose side ponytails. She’d contemplated that decision one more quick time, but decided she liked her hair in two ponytails and so what if she looked like a teenager.  She liked her style.

The doorbell rang again.  “Oh my goodness,” Lena cried out loud. She’d forgotten he was at the door.  She grabbed her purse off the bed, ran down the stairs, and opened the door.  “Hey Rick,” she huffed, out of breath from running down the stairs.  Boy, she thought, she’d better start exercising if running down two flights of stairs had her gasping for air. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. If you need more time, I don’t mind waiting.”

“No. I’m good,” she claimed, as she reached behind her to pull the door shut.

“You look sweet, Lena.”  Rick took her hand and headed toward his Jeep.  “I thought we’d take a ride up to Sugar Loaf to have lunch.  Have you ever been?”

“Sugar Loaf?  No.  Is that a restaurant?”

Rick chuckled. “It’s a town.  In New York State.”

Lena smiled.

“It’s an artsy type of community.  Lots of crafty stuff.  Just under the Sugar Loaf Mountain up route 23…near Warwick.”

“Oh, I’ve never heard of it.”

“I think you’ll like it,” he said, as he started the car.

With the roof and doors off the jeep, Lena's decision to put her hair in two ponytails had been a good idea. The warm breeze mimicked sixty mile per hour winds as they drove the highway northbound. The sensation thrilled her, as did the presence of the man in the driver's seat.

The Barnsider Tavern
was a cozy two-story pub and restaurant, quaint, with a fireplace on both floors.

“So, where’d you find out about this place?”  Lena wondered.

“A few years ago, a band I used to play with had a gig here.  I like it up here.”  The waiter came with their drink order.  Rick raised his beer mug to Lena.  “To us.”

Lena smiled, clinking her diet coke to his mug.  “To us.” Lena blushed. “So… do you come to Sugar Loaf a lot?”

Rick shrugged. “Not often, no.  I met this woman up here once…”

"Oh,” Lena exhaled. 

Rick grinned, apparently appreciating the flattery.  “No, Lena, not like that.  This woman was," he took a breath, “a psychic of sorts.”

“A psychic?” Lena marveled.  “You believe in psychics?”

“To a point, I guess…I don’t know…she helped me get through some …stuff…I suppose.”

“Did she tell you about your future?”

Rick chuckled.  “No.  Not about my future...more about my past.”

“Oh.”  The girl from the song, Lena remembered.

“What…Oh?”  Rick asked of her quick comment.

“Just…oh.” Rick peered at Lena and she resumed, “Lindsey told me you had a hard time getting over a girl.”

“She did, did she?  Well, Lindsey thinks she knows everything, I think.”

“You
didn’t
have a hard time getting over a girl?”

Rick focused his eyes on Lena’s. His gaze was intense…sending little trickles of excitement through her.  “Yes…I did, but…it’s complicated and…” Rick became pensive momentarily, then shrugged. “I’m done getting over her.”

Lena glowed from the inside out.  “Good.”

“Yes.  It’s very good.”

*************

After lunch, Rick showed Lena
Romer’s Alley
, a street in Sugar Loaf that was a village in itself.  He took joy in their hand-in-hand walk through the gardens and watching her peruse the
Moondancer
and other specialty shops.  He loved finally having this time with her.  He never wanted to let her go.

“I’m having a really nice time today, Rick. Thank you for taking me here.”

Rick looked down at Lena and squeezed her hand. The warmth of the afternoon sunlight, and the way it glistened off of Lena's brown eyes, punctuated the perfectness of the day.

“You’re very welcome. I’m having a really nice time, as well.”

They walked quietly for a while, before turning back and heading home.

In Rick’s jeep, he turned on the radio and let the classic rock station fill the car with a Fleetwood Mac song.  He knew the song well, because his mom listened to Stevie Nicks frequently during his childhood. A 70s hit was the song playing on the radio, and while he listened, his heart overflowed with happiness. The song was
Dreams,
and for years he had only to dream of the love he’d longed for.  Now, as if by magic, she appeared true-to-life, no longer a figment of his imagination.  No longer an illusion from his past.

Rick’s only regret was that Lena had no memory of that past. He'd do what he could to jog that memory, but if he couldn’t, then he’d just have to work hard at getting her to fall in love with him…all over again.

That night, Lena felt wonderful.  No longer burdened with Vince’s anger and elated with Rick’s affection, as soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep.  Never one fortunate enough to fall into a dreamless slumber, sometime during the night, Lena’s imagination turned on full-throttle.

“Mom,” twenty-five year-old Emmie began. “Why have you been so down lately?  Can I help?”

“Oh Emmie, you
do
help, always.  I’ve just been thinking about our life.  Since your brothers and sisters have moved out of the house, I was wondering if we should take a trip somewhere.”

“How can we though?  I am in a wheelchair, you do not drive…and we have no money.”

“Emmie, it is all right.  I have enough saved up for a bus trip. I have always wanted to see the ocean.  Are you up for it?”

“I am, Mom.  That sounds wonderful.”

They took the bus down Route Nine until it reached Seaside Heights, New Jersey.  Angelina pushed Emmie up the ramp onto the most exciting site she had ever seen.  The long vertical strips of wood were nailed together to form the longest walkway Angelina had ever seen.  And it formed the perfect platform for the beauty of God’s artwork.  Angelina and Emmie stood along the two metal parallel bars that came between them and the blue-black body of water that rumbled before them.

Angelina had longed to see the ocean water since she was thirteen years old.  It was a bittersweet emotion.  She was so happy to be experiencing the view with her youngest, most special child, Emmie, but her thoughts were of Richard and how different her life might have turned out had he not gone off to war.  Automatically, Angelina’s hand went to her necklace.  The gift from Richard that was now only half a locket.  Angelina’s thoughts went back to the day she handed Richard the other half of her locket.  The day he left for the war.

And never returned.

Had Richard survived, she would have run off with him after witnessing a murder on the way home from school, instead of into the arms of Timothy. A man, twice her age, who had promised to protect her. A man, who at thirty years old, thought it appropriate to rape a fifteen year-old…and get her pregnant.  Then beat her, relentlessly.

Had Richard survived, they would have followed their plans to marry, and her life would have been filled with joy…not sorrow.  But he had not survived.  And she married that vile man, who, after impregnating her seven times, had an affair and bore a love child during their marriage.

Richard had not survived...and Angelina had...much to her chagrin.

Lena awoke overwhelmed with sadness once again.  Her dream, which began on a sweet note, turned heavy with woe. The true-to-life emotions in her night’s vision had hit her hard.  Who was Angelina?  Could it
be
her great-great-grandmother?  A chill ran up Lena’s spine.  She had an eerie feeling about it, but couldn’t put her finger on it. 

Mimi had spoken of her mother’s life, but never in detail.  Hopefully, Lena’s imagination was just fabricating a story based on Mimi’s tales.

But the locket.  It was the one Lena wore
every day.
  The locket she had been drawn to inexplicably since she found it in Mimi’s jewelry box as a child. Mimi never knew the story behind it.  She only knew her mother wore it every day…without explanation…until the day she’d died.

And who was Richard? She had dreamed of a Richard before.  The photo in the locket too faded to recognize, could it be the same man?  Could Nana have had a lover who went off to war and never returned?

Still, why would Lena be dreaming about Nana’s life? And what did it have to do with Lena?

**************

Rick woke up on cloud nine.  He had the best day of his life yesterday and couldn’t wait for more.  Being so physically close to Lena, aroused an intensity in Rick’s emotions he hadn’t felt in a long-time.  Maybe not
ever
in his thirty-seven years.  With her, he was home.  His love for Lena Giordano ran deep, and he hoped one day she'd feel it too.

He readied himself for his weekly visit to see Andrew.  Rick made it a point to see him every week without fail, because at ninety-nine years old, Andrew’s days were numbered.  Andrew was important to Rick.  So important that he hated to think just how little time he had left.  Rick owed Andrew so much.  When he had felt alienated and scared, Andrew had comforted him.  When Rick fell apart, Andrew picked up the pieces and made Rick almost whole again.  That was nearly twenty years ago.

Lakeview Care Center was always busiest on Sunday afternoons.  Rick routinely contemplated visiting Andrew some other day of the week, but Sundays just always seemed most appropriate.  There were fewer activities scheduled for the residents, since most were busy with their visiting relatives, and Rick was usually tied up with work during the week.

Andrew’s eyes were closed when Rick walked in.  All too aware of Andrew’s fragility, Rick approached him slowly and quietly, grazing his forearm tenderly to let him know he was there.  Though his eyelashes fluttered meagerly, Rick knew Andrew was cognizant of his presence.

“Hey, Andy.”

Andrew’s eyes darted beneath their lids.

“Hey buddy, I went on a date with Angie.  Remember I told you about her?  She’s Lena now.”  Rick paused, waiting for any movement at all from Andrew.  “She doesn’t remember me, but…that’s ok…as long as I can get her to fall in love with me again.” A tear fell from Rick’s eye.  It landed on Andrew’s hand.  “Sorry about that, buddy.”  Rick wiped it off.  “Andrew, I owe you…you helped me, guy.  Because of you, I don’t think I’m crazy anymore.  Well…maybe a little...but not like pschitzo or anything.”

Rick closed his eyes and rested his forehead on Andrew’s arm.  He welcomed the memory of August 16, 1992:

Seventeen-year-old Rick was sick to his stomach, the acids churning, making him want to puke.  The images in his head were overwhelming.  No longer could Rick decipher reality from make-believe.  The doctors wanted to put him in the psych ward at Chilton Memorial, and his mother agreed.  That was two weeks earlier.  Since then, Rick had been hiding out at one friend or another’s, pleading for their confidentiality.

He approached the building on Grand Street in Paterson.  It was still a storefront but no longer a market.  A television repair shop now stood in its place…the upstairs apartment now painted blue, instead of white. The windows and doors had also been replaced.  But it was definitely John’s Mercantile – his father’s store – the store he left at age seventeen years-old, the exact age he was now, yet seventy-five years ago.

Rick felt uneasy. Probably no one inside had ever even heard of him, yet the call to be here was undeniable.  A bell rang when Rick opened the glass door.

“Can I help you, young man?” A heavy-set man in denim asked.

“Um, sure.” Rick trembled. “I…uh…was wondering if you’ve ever heard of a man named Andrew Grossi?  He used to live here a long time ago.”

“Sure. Andy.  He’s still here.  Lives upstairs. Friendly old man.”

Rick’s stomach swirled anxiously about.  Had his visions been correct?  Andrew Grossi really existed?  “He…he...still lives here?”

“Still owns the place.  He’s my landlord.”

“Really?” Rick felt his heart swell as a lump formed in his throat.  He wanted to cry.

“How do you know him?”

How
did
he know him? “Actually, I…uh...don’t.  My…
grandmother
told me stories about him.  She’s not here anymore, but…I always think about him.”

“Ah. Let me give him a call.  Maybe he’ll come down.” The man picked up a phone behind the counter. “What was your grandmother’s name, son?”

“Oh…I don’t want you to call him down.  He must be so old…”

“Nonsense. He may be seventy-nine, but he’s sprite as a sixty year-old I tell you.” He motioned that the phone was ringing. “Her name?” he whispered, while covering the mouthpiece of the receiver.

“Angelina…Angelina Maria Mancini.” Rick hoped Andrew would have known her.  He would have been only four years-old when Richard died, but he was sure Andrew had grown up to know Angie.

The television man hung up the phone. “Andy said he thinks he knows who you are talking about.  He’ll be right down.”

Rick nodded and fumbled with the change in his pocket.

“So, you from around here?” the man asked.

“No. Pompton Lakes.”

“Aah, nice area.”

“Mmm hmm," Rick responded, too nervous to hold a conversation with the rotund man behind the counter.  Meeting Andrew Grossi would confirm whether Rick’s memories were real or fabricated. Whether Rick was stable-minded…or on the brink of mental illness.

The moment of truth had arrived.  In from the back door walked a small old man dressed in dark shorts and a white golf shirt.

“Andy,” the T.V. man announced. “How are ya, guy?”

“I’m good, guy, you?

“Can’t complain.”

The lean silver-haired older man turned his attention toward Rick. “So, Son, how do you know Angelina Mancini? You’re kinda young there, aren’t you? I heard she passed years ago.  Was she your great-grandmother or something?”

“Uh, no, Sir.” Rick took a nervous swallow, “She was…”  Rick didn’t even know how to begin.  “It’s a long story.  Is there somewhere we can talk?”

The nurse interrupted Rick’s trip back in time.  “Sorry, Mr. Murphy, I need to check his vitals.  I’ll only be a minute.  You can stay.”

“No, I think I should be going.” Rick stood from his seat. “Has he been sleeping a lot?” he asked the nurse.

Her facial expression solemn, she answered, “Yes…it will not be long, sweetheart.  I’m sorry.”

Rick left the nursing home deflated. For the past twenty years, Andrew had been a mainstay in Rick’s life. Now it was coming to an end.  He hated to bear it.  Andrew would be missed.  But it was probably time he moved on.