We All Fall Down: The True Story of the 9/11 Surfer (19 page)

She closed her eyes. She had to encapsulate that rare and wonderful moment, to make it a part of the long memory of her life, to weave it into a fabric so fine and lasting.
All perfect.

When she opened her eyes, he was holding a lovely ring in front of her. Her eyes filled.
How can any woman contain this much happiness? How can I simply say, “Yes”?

She reached out not for the ring, but for him.
If I could just hold him. If I could just put my arms around him and feel the warmth, the welcome.

There were tears in his eyes too, as he reached out to her.

“Yes,” she whispered against his cheek. “Yes,” she said and looked deep into his blue eyes…

Thoughts of that magical time sustained Louise as she watched her husband spiral downward, helpless to fix anything. Sometimes it became too much for her, and when it did, she did her best to remember the good times.

From that moment, things had moved quickly. Pasquale had booked a hotel for that night. He’d wanted the entire night—not just the time he was on bended knee—to be special for Louise, an extraordinary memory for her to cherish. He knew he could not take away the pain she’d endured before she’d met him, but he was going to try his hardest to make sure she had only wonderful memories for the rest of her life.

The next day, the engaged couple visited Louise’s father to tell him the great news. When Louise saw Harry, she opened her arms wide and practically ran toward him. She wanted to hug her father one last time as his little girl, before she told him she was going to be a wife. As she hugged him tight she thought, just for a second,
From now on, he will not be the only man in my life.
She felt just the slightest pang of sadness before she pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. “Daddy, I have news for you…” Louise told him.

Harry tried to look quizzical when she said it.

“Oh yeah? What news?” Harry asked, trying his best to sound sincerely curious, which was hard for him since he already knew what she was going to say. “Everything is okay, I hope.”

“It’s better than okay. Pasquale asked me to marry him!”

“Come here, baby!” Harry exclaimed before pulling her into another hug. “That’s great! When did this happen?” he asked, winking at Pasquale.

Harry let go of Louise and extended his hand to his son-in-law-to-be. As Pasquale shook it, Harry asked, “Well, she said ‘yes,’ didn’t she?” He smiled at Pasquale and laughed before pulling him into a hug. “I am so happy for both of you!” Harry told them. “I can’t think of a better guy for my daughter to marry! I know you will take care of her, Pasquale. Look at this guy! He’s like an ox!”

“I will always take care of her,” Pasquale said as he looked Harry right in the eyes, and he’d never been more certain of anything in his life. If he could do just one great thing in his life, it would be taking care of the woman he loved more than anyone on Earth.

After the announcement, Louise told Harry all about Pasquale’s painstaking efforts to make the proposal special, an unforgettable event. Harry listened to every word, smiling the whole time. As he listened, he thought back to a few days before, when he’d heard the doorbell ring at his apartment in the Bronx…

~ ♦ ~

Harry startled a bit before getting slowly out of his chair. He was very careful to look out of the peephole on his door because, as far as he could remember, he was not expecting any visitors. When he saw Pasquale standing in the hallway, he was surprised. “Hey, Pasquale,” Harry said, opening the door. “Nothing’s wrong with Louise, is it?”

“What? Oh no, no, Mr. Mascia,” Pasquale assured him. “I just saw her for lunch. Your daughter’s fine.”

“Oh. All right. I’m just not used to your coming by on your own.”

“Is this a bad time, Harry? I was hoping I could talk to you about something important.”

“Of course you can! Come on in, Pat. My door is always open.” Harry held the door open to let Pasquale through. “Can I get you anything? Have a seat, and I’ll warm up some coffee.”

“Thank you,” Pasquale said as he took his seat. He looked around the apartment, admiring Harry’s devotion to his late wife. From what Louise had told him, he knew Harry had left everything exactly the same as it had been while his beloved Josephine was alive. She’d passed away in 1989, so the apartment had a distinct feel of stepping into a Madonna music video. It was the quintessential modern eighties motif, glass and chrome everywhere.

While Pasquale pondered this, taking everything in, Harry sat down across from him and placed a cup of coffee on the glass dining room table before him. “You mind if I play some cards?” Harry asked, gesturing to the deck he had laid out before him.

“Sure, go ahead.”

Harry stubbed out the cigarette he’d been puffing on into the already full ashtray beside him, then immediately lit another one. He shuffled the cards and dealt them. As he started a new game of solitaire he asked Pasquale. “So, what can I do for you, P.? What’s up?”

“Well, Mr. Mascia, I want to tell you how much I love your daughter,” Pasquale said.

Harry looked at him with a discerning eye, as if he knew what was coming, before looking back down at his cards.

“I think your Louise is a beautiful woman. I love her very much, and I want to marry her,” Pasquale went on. “So…well, Mr. Mascia, I’m here to ask if that would be okay with you.”

Harry did not look up from his cards. He simply took a long drag on his cigarette and answered, “Yeah, sure. You’re a good guy, and I see how much you love my daughter.”

And, just like that, Pasquale was free to ask Louise to be his wife. Despite the smell of smoke that clung to his clothes and the fact that Harry didn’t seem the least bit surprised, Pasquale could not have been happier.

~ ♦ ~

Harry had not been shocked by Pasquale’s question and did not make a big deal out of giving his answer. He’d always been a quiet and unassuming man, giving and very humble. He was very proud that his daughter had found such a strong man, and he knew she would be safe in Pasquale’s strong arms. Harry did not make a big deal of most things in life, and while he was very proud that his daughter had found a wonderful man like Pasquale, he didn’t make a big to-do about it. He was a strong man, as was Pasquale, so there was no need for too much sentimentality between them, but he did make sure Louise knew how highly he thought of Pasquale, particularly one time when he raved about the man who would become a groom for his daughter.

“Do you know what he did, Louise?” he asked her one day when she stopped by his seventh-floor apartment for a visit.

“What did he do, Daddy?” Louise asked, the admiration in Harry’s voice making her smile curiously.

“You remember him and Cousin Richie were gonna move the furniture so the painters could paint the apartment for me, right?”

“Yeah, Dad, I do. They did a nice job,” she said, looking around at the freshly painted walls, now free of the yellow hue, the remnant of years of chain-smoking.

“Well, Pasquale did all of it. Richie was late showing up, and P. moved all of this stuff himself. Can you believe it? I mean, the dresser, the big armoire, the hutch—all of it all by himself! This stuff is heavy, but Pasquale just picked it up and moved it! That couch you are sitting on there, he just lifted it like it wasn’t nothing. He’s strong, Louise. He’s very strong and a hard worker. You’ve got a good man there, baby, and he is crazy for you!”

He thought back on this while his daughter told the story of the proposal, and he knew he’d been right about Pasquale. The young Mr. Buzzelli was a man who would give his daughter everything in his power. When Pasquale and Louise left a little later, he found that he could hardly keep the smile off of his face, even as he tried to sleep that night.

~ ♦ ~

After they told Pasquale’s parents, the hard work began. Pasquale and Louise decided they would pay for their wedding on their own, and she began planning almost immediately.

They decided they would be married at St. Francis Church, affectionately known as “the little church with the big heart” in Hoboken, New Jersey. The little church is steeped in history, and Louise was certain it would be the perfect place for them to exchange their nuptials.

St. Francis Church is a simple little Catholic church that was led by Father Michael
Guglielmelli, who retired from there on July 1, 2012, after serving in Hoboken for many years.
[2]
It was built more than a hundred years ago by Italian immigrants who had previously worshipped at St. Joseph’s, also in Hoboken. Because many of the immigrants came to America from Genoa, Italy, the language barrier at the English-speaking church was a major detriment to the Genoese.

On May 5, 1888, a group of dedicated Italians met and decided they would build an Italian Catholic church of their own—a place where services, confessions, and instructions could be conducted in their own language, so they could fully understand and find connection with their Lord and Savior. St. Francis Church was built, brick by brick, by the hands of those Italians, on land they bought themselves. When it was finished, it became a bastion of worship for many Italians who’d come to America to find a better life.
[3]

A stunning brick monument to their Italian heritage, St. Francis was a perfect choice for Louise and Pasquale to give one another their vows to share one love, one lifetime. When they met with Father Michael, privately in his office, they discussed their plans for the ceremony.

“Let us pray,” Father Michael said, bowing his head. He said a short prayer, then looked up at them. “What a glorious occasion! What made you choose St. Francis?”

“Well, Father, it doesn’t hurt that this is the church Frank Sinatra went to,” Pasquale joked, “but seriously, this is the place where
my
parents were married twenty-nine years ago, and I was baptized here.”

“Buzzelli? Hmm. Oh yes! Ugo and Antonia, right?” Father Michael asked.

Pasquale nodded.

“And of course, your aunt is Anna Buzzelli. Everyone loves Aunt Anna. She’s the Eucharistic Minister here at St. Francis. Such wonderful people!”

“Yes, Father, they are. That is why we want to be married here—”

“So that maybe our marriage will be blessed like theirs,” Louise finished for him.

“Wonderful!” Father Michael exclaimed. “And of course you would like me to do the whole ceremony in Italian
and
English?”

“Yes. We would like it done in both languages, if you don’t mind,” Louise said.

“I don’t mind, not at all!”

“That’s great,” Pasquale said before asking, “But, Father Michael, would we be able to have a shorter ceremony? Not a full ceremony, but like…half of one?”

The priest looked at them for a moment, before saying in Italian,
“
Si può essereun mezzoin stato di gravidanza
?”

“What does that mean?” Louise asked Pasquale.

“It means, can you be half-pregnant?” Father answered for Pasquale. “Either you are or you aren’t. There is no halfway with these things.”

Both Pasquale and Louise started to laugh, but they understood what Father Michael meant and settled upon enduring the full Catholic ceremony in both languages.

~ ♦ ~

Things were incredibly hectic during the months leading up to the wedding. It seemed neither Louise nor Pasquale had much time to breathe and take it all in. By the time the day of the wedding was upon them, they were both more than ready. But, as is always the case, not everything was as perfect as they had hoped it would be.

On the day of the wedding, Louise left her apartment, already in her gown, and was greeted by the first obstacle of the day. Though she had prayed and prayed for perfect weather on her special day, the clouds had other ideas: rain. The bride-to-be opened her door and was greeted, as if Mother Nature was playing some kind of cruel joke, a monsoon. She tried not to let the dreary weather get her down by remembering something Mama Buzzelli had told her: “Rain on your wedding day is good luck. It means no tears in your marriage.” With that in mind, Louise took a deep breath before she followed her cousin Joanne, her maid of honor, and got into the limo.

The limo driver nodded, and they departed New York to head to the church in Hoboken, New Jersey. Louise tried to sit back and enjoy one of the few quiet moments she would have all day, but even that was not simple. As they were driving on the highway, the old Rolls-Royce began to sputter and died completely in the middle lane of the Cross Bronx Expressway. Louise sat there with Joanne, in the rain, in a broken old limo…and began laughing heartily.

Joanne looked at her, stunned for a brief second, then started laughing right along with her. “Louise, what the hell is going on?”

“I know!” Louise gasped, clutching her side. “You couldn’t make this shit up!”

Just as she was about to start crying from laughing so much, a car pulled up beside them, a car full of Louise’s bridesmaids, Dara, Patti, and Rory.
Maybe God does want me to get married today
, she thought. She took a deep breath before opening the limo door and stepping out into the downpour, wedding dress and all.