Chapter 48
Two days after Carlo visited me in the hospital, I’m officially discharged and getting ready for Cortez’s funeral.
“Let me help,” Carlo says, finding me standing in front of his floor length mirror, struggling to tie my tie.
“Not being able to use my arm is going to be the death of me.”
He stands in front of me, taking the two strips of material and weaving them around each other. “I’m pretty sure if three bullets couldn’t take you down, a tie isn’t going to do it.”
I snort. “Thanks.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” he says, looking into my eyes when he finishes.
I nod. “When do we need to leave?”
Carlo looks at the watch on his wrist. “Now. We’ll be meeting everyone at the funeral home, then take the limos to the cemetery.”
I don’t question the lack of church service. Cortez wasn’t a church going man. And considering what happened at the rectory next to St. Joseph’s, I doubt any church in a two hundred mile radius would want to hold his funeral.
Since I got out of the hospital yesterday, we haven’t talked much about what’s to come.
He took me home and helped pack a bag, then brought me to his house, telling me I’d need help for a little while.
I hate that he’s right, because being helpless isn’t something I’m used to, but it is nice to not be alone right now.
Everything feels different and yet unchanged, stuck in limbo as Carlo decides what he wants to do.
In the car, I contemplate mentioning it, but that’s not the way I normally operate. I’m used to just blurting things out, but now I care about how it could affect him. This is a little more personal, so I play it over in my head in multiple ways, hoping I don’t come off insensitive.
“Have you thought about…” I pause, mulling it over, “whether you want to step in or…” I let it hang there, knowing he’ll pick it up.
He’s quiet for a while, focused on the road. When I think he’s going to ignore the question completely, he speaks up.
“It’s almost all I’ve been thinking about. It’s a complicated situation.”
I nod. “Of course.”
“I have to meet with George soon. Make a decision one way or another. They have to figure out how to move on.”
“Yeah.”
We pull into the funeral home, and I come to the decision that I won’t bring it up again. He’s going to figure it out for himself, and when I need to know, I’ll know. I’ll have to figure out what I’m going to do after the fact.
I’m a few steps behind Carlo as he greets the men that worked for his father.
They shake hands, whispering condolences.
Everyone looks solemn, but not broken. And that’s the sad truth about life.
Death is final, leaving behind broken hearts and a disrupted routine, but we piece ourselves together and adapt to a new normal because the world keeps spinning even if we feel entrenched in grief.
The limos are already lined up behind the hearse, and after Carlo speaks to the funeral director, he says something to George, who then disperses the message, and everyone starts getting into the waiting cars.
Only Carlo and I ride in the first limo, both of us quiet in our own thoughts for most of the journey.
When we see the cemetery, everything starts to feel real. I’ve been aware of Cortez’s absence in this world. A man like that, you can’t help but feel when he’s no longer around, but putting him into the ground makes my chest cave in a little, and I can’t begin to imagine how Carlo feels.
I reach over and grab his hand, grateful he’s sitting on my good side. He looks at me, fighting off what has to be an overwhelming amount of emotion. He swallows, his eyes shiny. Clenching his jaw, he nods once. “I can’t say anything right now.”
“Okay,” I say, understanding.
Sometimes just a single statement will open the floodgates.
He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles before staring out the window.
When we come to a stop, he takes a breath and opens the door.
My injuries don’t allow for me to be a pallbearer, but Carlo arranged to have me walk behind the casket, while he, some capos, and George all take the weight of Cortez, and carry him to his final resting place.
After everyone’s seated, it’s Carlo who stands at the podium. He’s wearing a black suit paired with a black tie and shirt. His hair is perfectly combed, his facial hair trimmed low and neat, but he hides his eyes behind dark sunglasses.
“Thank you for being here today,” he starts, his head held high.
“My father was a complicated man. He was hard to love most days, especially as I grew older. I’m sure all of us have varying feelings regarding Cortez Gallo, but I think it’s safe to say that we all can understand how he became who he was.
He was tough, fearless, and wasn’t afraid to hurt anyone’s feelings if it meant doing something he thought was best. Oftentimes, he was right in his decision-making, even if we didn’t agree with how he went about it.
“He was a smart man, and while we definitely had our differences, and though we butted heads on more than one occasion, I always looked up to him. He was my hero when I was a boy—someone I felt would always be around. He had a larger than life personality, and all I wanted was to be just like him. Things didn’t turn out how either one of us thought they would.
I always thought it was because we were too different, but some days I wonder if it was because we were too similar.
Both of us were always ready to fight—needing to have the last word.
Stubborn beyond belief, thinking we were always right.
” He chuckles slightly before sniffing. Shaking his head, he continues.
“Yes, we’re different, but his blood runs in my veins, whether I like it or not.
His words, not mine.” This garners a few laughs.
“I can’t say he was a good man or a great father, but he was never selfish and always honest. I think I’ve realized that recently, especially getting to talk to some of you. This family was always a priority.”
He takes several seconds to look into the crowd, eventually removing his glasses. I watch his face, trying to read his expression. The wheels are turning in his head, but I have no idea what he’s thinking. He puts his shoulders back, meets my gaze, then starts talking again.
“With my father gone, I think we’re all looking for someone to fill his shoes. I’m not sure anyone could do that, if I’m being honest, but I think I’m willing to give it a try.”
A few murmurs emerge from around me, coming from the people who know what he means. My lips quirk just slightly, and I watch as he bows his head and says a silent prayer before turning to lay a hand on his father’s casket.