Winter In August (23 page)

“Thank you, Quay.”

I was greeted by the flight attendant and the co-pilot.

“Good Afternoon, Miss Barone. I believe we just parted ways,” said Cameron. He was the usual when I flew and I adored him. Cameron grabbed my bags and stored them in a small closet.

“The usual?” He knew when I flew I required a double shot of whiskey over ice. I had sobered up when the call came in about my dad.

“Yes, Cameron, thank you,” I smiled at him. He loved flying with Colt and had worked with him for ten years. He thought my fear of flying was hilarious.

It didn’t take long for him to bring me the whiskey I desperately needed. He smiled as my hand shook as the plane was evening out after the takeoff.

Fortunately, as usual, the flight went smooth and quick. After one more whiskey and some good conversation with Cameron about his latest love, we were landing in no time.

* * * * *

I arrived at the hospital as fast as I could. I didn’t want to go with Uncle Vito. I wasn’t in the mood to make small talk, and I just wanted to get to the hospital. Colt had a car arranged to be waiting for me when I landed. When I made my way to his room, my dad’s condition was bad. My dad’s doctor was waiting for me and greeted me when I arrived. His face told me what I needed to know.

“Gabriella, I’m sorry, it’s not good this time.”

“This time? He’s never had any heart problems before.” He looked at me stunned and looked at my dad’s chart he had in his hand.

“He had a heart attack last year and the year before. This one last year I told him he had to change his lifestyle. You know your dad. He wasn’t going to make any changes. He continued to eat what he wanted, didn’t exercise, and smoked those damn cigars.” I was shocked. This was the first a heart attack was mentioned. The room spun and I braced myself against the wall. He apparently had heart problems for years and didn’t tell me. He even had stints put in and was on a slew of medication. Why wouldn’t he tell me? Oh my God. The doctor went on to say he had a major heart attack and his heart was too weak to pump anymore. Dr. Welch promised me my dad was not in pain and they would make a determination on what to do further when and if he became stable. It was becoming too real.

Bonnie, who was sitting by my dad’s bed, noticed me talking to the doctor, and jumped up and hugged me as she wiped her tear filled eyes.

“Oh, Gabriella. I was with him when it happened. I was so scared. I had no idea he had problems with his heart. He told no one.”

“I’m glad you were with him, Bonnie and he wasn’t alone,” I whispered.

“It happened so fast. One minute he was at the stove cooking and the next he was on the floor. Oh, God. It was awful.” Bonnie continued to cry and I couldn’t help but hug her. My Aunt and Uncle were there, as well as my dad’s best friend, Terry. I sat at my father’s side. Everyone quietly left the room to let me have some time alone with him. As if I was in a dream, I went through the motions and could not register what was going on around me. My dad was in ICU, hooked up to machines. I was trying to come to grips with the fact he was dying. I wasn’t prepared for this kind of news. Of all the bad news I’d had lately, this was the worst. How was I going to get through this? I felt as if I was moving in a haze and things were happening too fast. We had too much to do yet, too many stories to tell, spaghetti dinners to make. Why didn’t I come and see him more? The guilt was overwhelming me and I didn’t know what to do. There was so much he didn’t know about me, and now he would never know I think of him every time I walk through Little Italy and I order espresso the same way he did. Worse, he would never know how much I loved him.

I held his hand and watched his chest rise and fall with the sound of the machines in the room. The constant beep of his machine was a comfort to me, giving me some relief he was alive. His hands were so soft and, I’d never noticed how old his hands looked until then. He was young and in the prime of his life, but he had hands of an old man.

I wondered if he was afraid? Did he know this was not going to end well? There had to be something that could be done for him. Why didn’t he listen to the doctors?

His watch and cell phone sat beside his bed as if he was sleeping for the night. I had texted him the day before to tell him I was flying to Miami. He texted back some silly joke about wearing a parachute. How devastating the thought was I would not text him or I would never get his silly texts with misspelled words, and abbreviations only the two of us knew the meaning.

As I sat beside him, I smoothed my hand across his cheek. He was scruffy, which would’ve pissed him off. Giuseppe Barone always made sure he was clean shaven, loaded with his Old Spice, and not a hair out of place. I noticed Colt had called several times and texted me, but I turned my phone off and shoved it in my purse

The room he was in was so dark. Only a light by his bed lit the room along with the lights from the machines. His television was on tuned to a football game with his favorite team. Nurses came in and smiled at me with pity and affection. I didn’t smile back. I couldn’t smile. I couldn’t cry either. What I could do was tell him how much he meant to me and how much I loved him. I tried to get in everything as fast as I could. He was in and out of consciousness and when he was awake, I took the opportunity to talk to him.

His eyes struggled to open and with a whisper, he said “Mooch.”

I wanted to tell him everything I could while he was still breathing. I grabbed his hand. “Hey, Dad. I’m here. I flew by myself.”

“Where’s your… parachute?” Even as sick as he was he still had his sense of humor.

“It’s in the parking lot.” Oh God. What if this was our last conversation? I had to start talking.

“I want you to know how much I love you. You are a good man and we had sometimes didn’t we? I gave you a run for your money, but I wouldn’t change anything we went through. I know you feel guilty about drinking when Mom left. Please don’t. I wouldn’t change anything about my life with you. I survived and out of such shitty circumstances I had you. You made up for everything else.”

With much determination, he took a deep breath and started to speak to me. “Listen, Mooch. Let it go…eat the bread…. fall in love… and…forgive her… live your life.” Tears streamed down my cheeks and onto his bed.

“Dad, if you could please fight to stay a little bit longer. I don’t know how I’m going to live without you. No one will ever call me Mooch, hug me like you did, or say the right things to make me feel better.” I hung my head and grabbed tighter to his hand. I wasn’t an affectionate person, but I wanted to crawl into the bed with him and hold on for dear life.

“I’m tired, Mooch. I… gave up.” He squeezed my hand. With a whisper, he continued to speak.

“Don’t… do the same… when you get here… they're no do-overs.” He struggled to speak and seconds later he was back out. The despair inside me was immense.

This was the one person in my life for twenty-five years who didn’t intentionally leave me. He never acted annoyed with me, never made me feel like I wasn’t wanted. There was a period in our lives when I hated him. I hated he drank and let me do without. But, we were getting past that, he found someone to love him, and now it was too late.

I sat with my dad for as long as I could, willing him to wake up and talk to me. One more time, please, once more. He never did.

I didn’t leave him. I couldn’t leave him in that room alone. I stayed right in the hospital with a chair next to his bed. For two days I talked to him, told him things happening in my life, and begged him to keep fighting. By the second day, I continued to beg him to get better. I promised him I would stay with him and take care of him. In the end, he couldn’t fight anymore. I understood somehow. I knew him leaving me wasn’t what I wanted, but his decision to live was decided a while ago when he didn’t listen to the doctor. When he took his last breath, I yelled for someone to come in and help him. The room was full of doctors and nurses performing resuscitation. I noticed one of them shake their head no. My dad’s life was over.

My whole being was empty when I walked out of his room. I had no idea what to do. I had a funeral to prepare and a house to take care of, let alone a business. I was lost. That is until I noticed Colt standing in front of the nurse’s station. My heart stopped. I dropped my purse and ran into his arms.

“Thank God.” I cried.

“I had to come. I didn’t want you dealing with this alone. I’m here now, baby.” My whole body was shaking as I held him close to me. got

“Thank you.”

We made our way to my dad’s house. My dad’s two-story Cape Cod house was now mine with all its memories included. I stood outside in the shrill drizzle before going in and stared at the house. There I was officially alone, confused, and afraid like the day my mom left me.

Walking inside was so heart wrenching, but Colt held my hand and anchored me. My dad was everywhere in the house His slippers were waiting for him by the front door. His cigar half smoked sat on the table by his chair. The table in the kitchen was set with two place settings and candles in the middle as if he was planning a romantic dinner the night he had his heart attack. There was sauce on the stove and fresh flowers in a vase on the table. I couldn’t seem to stop shaking inside. I made a cup of his horrible coffee for us, and we sat outside on the new wicker furniture he was so proud of. He even sent me a picture with his phone the day he bought the set at the local hardware store.

For one full day, I stayed in bed and slept. Colt cleaned the entire house for me. He emptied the refrigerator, took out the trash, and even went and bought me a black dress and shoes for the memorial service. Like a robot, I went through the motions, yet I had someone who was there to take care of me for once.

As requested, he had his funeral at the church he attended all his life and he was buried at the same place as Kris. I hoped to not have to go to that cemetery again, but that was not to be. I was now forever connected to Pine Tree Cemetery.

I was surrounded by the men that would come into the electrical store, my so called family, and Bonnie. There were so many people at his service. People I knew, some I didn’t know, and some I had not seen in years. Every one of them had nothing but good things to say about my dad. Did my mom have the right to know my dad was dead? Panic set in my body as I thought about finding her.

While I sat in the church that had seen me through, confessions, communion, and confirmation, I forced myself not to cry. I closed my eyes and wished I was anywhere but there. Colt held me close to him and whispered in my ear. “I’m here, and I won’t leave you.” My heart melted and I leaned against him feeling his safety and his warmth and so relieved he was with me.

Aunt Anti wanted to have food at her house after the funeral mass and the burial. I agreed to keep the arguing at bay hoping to give her some closure. Plus, I didn’t want to have a gathering at my dad’s house. All those people rummaging through his house would have been too weird. She told me a Sven offered to pay for everything for the after funeral dinner and insisted my aunt get the best. My Sven, I loved him for such a generous act.

I was asked over and over what I would do with my dad’s business and home. I had no idea. I had not even thought about the fact his business would be my responsibility now. The realization was all too overwhelming.

Chapter 20

I
t
took me a while to get back to my normal life. I made it back to New York City and decided I needed to get back to work and keep busy. I was doing a little better each day. After a couple of months, the tears slowed down, my thoughts weren’t constantly about my dad, and I was able to get on with my life. I could still hear his voice in my head, and I read his past text messages over and over. I canceled all his utilities, bank accounts, and closed his store. Colt had his lawyers help me decide what to do with the business and my dad’s house. I decided to sell the business to one of the long- time customers, and keep the house since the mortgage was paid for. I was going to use the money from his electrical store to open my own salon. Finally, my dream was coming true but not in the way I wanted. I was working through my grief and depression and taking my medication as I promised my dad. After things settled down, I called and spoke to Annie and asked her if she could please tell my mom my father had passed away. I was shocked at her response.

“Gabriella, thank you for calling. I already knew about this from someone named Colt Andrews. He called a while ago to tell me and asked if he could have your mom’s address.” My blood temperature shot up. Not only was he going behind my back, but he never mentioned this to me.

“Did you say he wanted my mom’s address?” I swallowed as I forced the words out, barely beyond a whisper.

“Yes, doll. He said he wanted to contact her and let her know about your dad. He sounded cordial and very worried about you. Is he your boyfriend?” That was none of her business.

“Do you know if he spoke with her?”

She coughed. “I have no idea. Listen, I’m very sorry about your dad.”

I sat there in shock. I was beyond upset that he would do this and not tell me. I called his cell and got his voicemail. I was too upset to leave a message.

As I paced my house, my anger with Colt brewed stronger each hour. He crossed a line by doing what he did. My mom was off limits to everyone, including Colt Andrews. If I wanted to find her, the search was up to me. Colt didn’t need to involve himself. I didn’t care how much money he had or how many connections could get him what he wanted. I was sick and tired of his macho, alpha male bullshit. My Italian temper fumed and I wanted to punch something. After a few hours, I didn’t want to talk to him, I wanted to be left alone. The best thing to do was avoid him until I cleared this in my head. Maybe he did do this to be nice. Maybe he didn’t do it to upset me? Whatever reason he did it for, I was angry and it wasn’t going away.