Chapter 48
DIANGELO
Present
“It’s so good to see you!” Mom gives me a hug that borders on aggressive, coaxing a smile from me.
“I know, I know. That was way too long between visits. I’m sorry about that.”
Dad waves his hand before giving me a hug of his own. “That’s life sometimes. We’re just glad you’re here.”
“Dad has ground hamburger all seasoned, and I made potato salad. There should also be some cut-up watermelon in the fridge, if your father hasn’t eaten it all,” she adds with a playful jab.
“That sounds perfect,” I say. “What can I help with?”
Dad motions to the fridge. “How about you grab us a couple of beers, and we can sit on the patio for a few minutes while the grill warms up?”
“Sure, you want one, too, Ma?”
“Nah, I’ll stick to my soda today.” She raises a purple insulated tumbler and makes her way outside.
My parents have a nice little single-family home in the Bronx with a patio out back and a small patch of grass.
I offered to upgrade them when I started making money.
They insisted they didn’t need more than what they had.
I can only assume a large part of their desire to stay had to do with keeping Elio’s memory alive. It’s understandable.
I sit at the glass patio table in one of the four swivel deck chairs. Considering it’s almost mid-September, the temps are still high, but the aquamarine awning overhead keeps the sun off us. Between that and the undulating fan Dad installed years ago, it’s surprisingly comfortable outside.
“How have you guys been?” I ask after taking a sip from my beer.
They look ever so briefly at one another before Mom plasters a smile on her face that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“We’re mostly good—”
“Mostly?” I’m not sure what is going on, but I already don’t like it.
“Let me finish,” she chides me. “I was in for my annual checkup a while back, and my mammogram showed an abnormality.”
My stomach lurches, then bottoms out in my feet. An abnormality? What the fuck have I missed here?
She continues as my mind races. “They aren’t sure that it’s cancer,” she says as if that’s supposed to reassure me. “But Dad and I have talked, and we decided it’s safest to just do the double mastectomy and eliminate the risk.”
“You have breast cancer?” My ears ring so loudly that it’s hard to hear my own words.
“They’ll biopsy the tissue after surgery, so we won’t know until then. We could biopsy now and discuss treatment options based on the type of mass, but we aren’t interested in dragging it out. I’d rather have the surgery and give myself the best possible chances.”
Best chances of survival.
While I’ve been self-absorbed with my own issues, my parents have had to wrestle with the knowledge that Mom could die.
I’ve lived my entire life under the false assumption that my parents would always be around. Obviously, I knew their time would come eventually, but never so soon. I thought I’d have plenty more time.
God, please give me more time with them.
“If they do the surgery, you’ll be okay?” I sound like a kid again because I feel like one. Helplessness and fear attack from both sides, bringing me to my knees.
“They can never guarantee that they’ll get all the cells, but the chances of a recurrence are very small. The prognosis is really optimistic, sweetie, I promise.” She gives me a sad smile, then stands and rounds the table to hug me where I sit, stunned.
I cling to her.
I cling to a life I wish I’d known. A life with family that I turned my back on out of self-loathing and shame. My parents didn’t deserve that. They didn’t deserve to be collateral damage in my war against myself.
How can I ever possibly make up for all the hurt I’ve caused?
It feels impossible, but I have to try, or I’m no better today than I was yesterday.
“When is the surgery? I want to be there.”
Mom gives one more squeeze and goes back to her seat. “It’s in two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” I blurt, my incredulous stare dancing from one to the other. I don’t know what I expected. When there’s cancer involved, things probably move pretty quickly, but I’ve never dealt with this before.
Dad puts his hand over Mom’s in a show of unity, his eyes apologetic. “We knew you had a lot going on and didn’t want to bother you until we knew the plan.”
“Jesus, Dad. You guys aren’t a bother.” I shouldn’t take my frustration out on him. I’m the one I’m mad at. I’m the one who led them to believe they were an inconvenience.
Fuck, I’ve been selfish.
“Well, now you know,” he says in his dad voice, warning me to calm down. “We can get you all the details, but for right now, we’d love to just spend some time together, okay?”
I exhale out years of frustration and nod. “Yeah, that sounds good. How about I grab the meat so you can get those burgers cooking?”
They both beam at me.
The fact that I was the reason Elio was taken never darkened their view of me. I wasn’t able to save my brother—I never even found the other man who was responsible for Elio’s death—and I got myself thrown in prison for arson in the process. None of it mattered.
I truly can do no wrong in their eyes, and it’s the one thing that gives me hope that I might be able to redeem myself someday. They would say I already have—hell, they would say there’s nothing to atone for—but I’m the one I need to convince. The question is, how?
As much as I’d like to wallow in my shortcomings, I do the right thing for once and give them what they’ve asked for. We have burgers, and they update me on news of extended family. Mom rats out Dad’s home repair mishaps, and we all have a good laugh.
The time we spend together helps, but the lingering melancholy resurfaces on my way home. I know that berating myself won’t help. I try to lock those thoughts away, though my efforts are lackluster at best.
Terina is all smiles when I pick her up from Cosimo’s house.
A few minutes in the car with me sucks the joy right off her face.
I ask her questions and try not to bring her down, but a woman’s intuition is too adept to avoid.
She senses my discomfit and retreats inside herself. That only spurs on my frustrations.
By the time we get home, I decide it’s best to be alone and sequester myself in the gym. I hit the heavy bag until my back and legs ache. It’s a punishing workout, and I deserve every minute.
I sit on the weight bench when I’m done, elbows resting heavily on my thighs, and do something I rarely let myself do. I think about my brother.
It’s no wonder I fall short so often when the best half of me died years ago.
I miss him every goddamn day. I’ve never truly learned to live without him. I try, but the man I pretend to be is just a shell of the man I was.
Elio wouldn’t want me to give up.
He would want me to keep trying and live the best life possible, so for him, I’ll do it. I’ll keep fighting and hope that one day, I’ll feel worthy of the love my family feels for me.