Chapter Thirty-Two Rome
T HE PASSENGER SIDE door popped open before I could rush around to do it for Alex.
He was already half out of the car as I came to a skidding halt on the sidewalk and berated him for not waiting.
He slapped my hand away as he stood upright and pushed the door closed.
One week into his recovery and I already was amazed how quickly he could move.
But still, his doctors told him to take it easy and I refused to let him do much on his own.
“I’m not a total invalid,” Alex said. “I can at least get out of the car on my own.”
His bruises had mostly gone down. Mine had, too, except for a shade of purple around my eye. The stitches were removed the day before, leaving me with a dark red streak that cut through my brow. Alex commented on it at least once a day.
“Strong enough to hold me upright?” I asked as we walked to the entrance of an apartment building in Revere.
The autumn afternoon shone down on us as traffic boomed down the street, hordes of people going about their day.
The skyline of Boston hung in the near distance, stoic giants made of steel and glass.
Everything was perfectly normal. Like nothing had ever happened.
We paused at the entrance to the apartment building. I found the button next to the right tag and pressed it.
“You’ll be okay,” Alex said and ran his hand down my arm. “Collapse afterward. Be strong for her. It will mean a lot. Trust me.”
I breathed in and let it out slowly as the door buzzed.
I pulled it open for Alex, who ambled at a slower pace.
We reached an elevator and took it to the seventh floor, then down a carpeted hallway to apartment 707 in brass numbering.
I rapped my knuckles on the wood door. A threadbare welcome mat lay under our feet.
The locks unlatched and the door opened. I braced myself. Steeled my nerves like I was going up to bat.
Paola had her hair tied up in a messy bun.
She wore black leggings and a loose, oversized, cream-colored knit cardigan.
Her eyes were bloodshot, cheeks rosy red.
But she smiled when she peeked into the hallway to see us.
I stepped forward to hug her first. She felt so small and frail in my arms, like a breeze or a sneeze would disintegrate the tape that held the pieces of her together.
I released her, then whispered to be gentle with Alex, who was still in recovery.
Her apartment was simple but tastefully decorated in an array of colors that assigned a subtle exuberance. I closed the door as Paola finished hugging Alex. She sniffed, then wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“I made tea. Would you like some?” she asked. Her voice cracked, a rawness underlining the sounds of a grieving mother.
“We would love some,” I said. She escorted us to the living room where we sat on a cozy love seat with round throw pillows. The apartment smelled faintly of fresh flowers, though I didn’t see any around.
Paola came back and handed us each a steaming ceramic mug of tea. She sat opposite us on a recliner, a low-rise wooden table between us.
Where to start? How to start?
“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it to the service,” Alex said. “We were…”
Paola closed her eyes and shook her head. “It is quite all right. I saw the news.” Then she smiled. Sympathy from a mother who lost her son. Such courage and selflessness. “You’re here now.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Romo, I—”
“Please,” I interrupted, “call me Rome.”
She nodded. “Rome, I… he…” She squeezed her eyes shut and we stayed silent to give her a moment.
She sat up straighter and cleared her throat.
“Danny adored you beyond words. What you did that day in the hospital… it gave him a flare of life. I had my baby back for a few days. It was wonderful. Magical .” She laughed.
A small sound, but it carried the weight of much more.
“He wanted to be buried with the jersey. I am not kidding.”
At that we both cracked a smile. I wanted to laugh. Heck, I wanted to cry. But I held it in. “Oh, gosh, knowing that, I could have had them make a smaller one.”
She wiped the air with her hand. “ No worries . He held it right until the end.”
A lump had been growing in my throat. The image of little Danny holding onto my jersey cracked the dam that I had futilely constructed.
“Oh,” I said softly. Alex reached over and squeezed my knee.
“I’m… glad I could, um…” I blinked and looked away.
The lump grew something fierce. Felt like my Adam’s apple would bust out from my throat.
I swallowed. Took control. I wouldn’t break down in front of a mother whose son had died. It didn’t feel right.
Mr. Perfect , I thought. What Alex calls it when you put aside emotion . I looked back at Paola. Let Mr. Perfect speak. “I’m glad I could give him that kind of joy, especially at the end. I’d do that a thousand times if I could.” My brow went up. “In fact, I mean to. We mean to.”
Paola shifted in her seat and cocked her head sideways. “What do you mean?”
I looked at Alex. He nodded. I said, “We’re covering your medical bills.
All of them. You won’t have to pay a cent to the hospital or any medical service.
” Her mouth had slowly dropped open. Her wrists went limp and the mug she was holding tipped over a fraction, tea spilling to the floor.
She swore and put the mug on the coffee table.
Alex hobbled to his feet to fetch a towel.
I continued. “We already cleared it with the hospital. It’s…
actually already taken care of. You’re debt free from the hospital.
And I understand you’ve been out of work?
I’d like to make sure you’re on your feet when you’re ready.
There’s a phenomenal career service center that I can link you into. You’d have the perfect job in no time.”
Paola was on her feet with her arms open.
I met her halfway. Where she was once frail at the door, a fierce strength empowered her.
She nearly crushed me with the ferocity of that hug.
Mumbled words tumbled from her mouth. A lot of thank-you s rolling over her quick tongue.
Alex had dabbed up the mess from the tea until she pulled him in for a group hug.
She pulled away first and wiped her cheeks. “You’re a hero, Rome. Truly. You don’t know how fearful I was to get started again. People in my position… it is very hard for us. So hard.”
Finally, after a long bout of silence, Alex spoke. “You know of others? In your… situation ?”
Paola nodded. “There’s a support group. Many mommies and babies.” She tsked and shook her head. “They will be happy for me, though.”
Alex had been looking at me. I saw the wheels in his head spinning with a plan.
“We started a foundation,” Alex said. “Everything will be taken care of and addressed through that. You might see some paperwork come in the mail. There’s nothing for you to sign, but there might be a few legal documents you should hold onto.
And if anything comes from the hospital, any bill that we may have missed, you have my number.
Please, please , don’t hesitate to text or call. ”
We stayed for another thirty minutes. Paola regaled us with stories of Danny and his quirky personality in the hospital until he couldn’t shine his light anymore.
I am proud to say I held it together. The lump in my throat never went away, and I could feel that my eyes remained glistening, but not a single tear fell.
Before we left, Alex made Paola promise him to text if she received any surprise bills. Another round of hugs, the thirtieth round of thank-you s , and we were back in the car driving through the streets of Revere.
“What were you thinking about back there?” I asked Alex. I reached out to hold his hand.
“Opportunities.” He brought up my hand and kissed it. “Gotta think about it first, though.”
I nodded. “About the foundation?”
He snickered. “Hey, I told you I need to focus on a new business now. Don’t you worry, though.”
It was my turn to chuckle. “How could I?” I squeezed his hand and together we drove home.
?
Later that afternoon, I started a homemade braciole recipe and let it simmer on the back burner for hours.
I bought my favorite bottle of Sangiovese wine and decanted it just before dinner was ready.
Technically, Alex shouldn’t drink while on his pain meds, but we both agreed a single glass wouldn’t hurt.
He had the strength to sit with me at the kitchen island and, when he tried to help clean up, I exiled him to the living room and his nest of cushions and pillows.
I had an evening call with my agent and Joe, which I took in the office.
I only had a few days left of my family medical leave.
The Riders were doing well in postseason and we needed to figure out my entry point at the next game.
I still hesitated at leaving Alex alone, but Joe assured me he’d be by as often as possible to help out.
Even my mother offered to come up and spend the night.
Ostensibly, both Alex and I had scheduled my cousin Elena to come up under the pretense of helping Alex with recovery, since she was a physical therapist. In reality, we designed Devin to be there to connect the two. That was days away, though.
By the time I finished my call, Alex was quietly snoring on the couch while an ’80s adventure movie played on the television.
I tiptoed to the couch and used my phone to dim the lighting, then lowered the volume of the movie.
I had a moment to take it in. Alex, nestled in his mound of pillows with a blanket thrown over his legs.
Head leaning back, slightly turned, mouth partially open.
As tired as he was, he still cut a handsome image.
I took a careful seat next to him and he stirred. “Shh, shh,” I whispered. His eyes opened, unfocused from the haze of pain meds, then sharpened when he found mine.
A sleepy, drug-addled smile. “Hey, you,” he said, then frowned. “I don’t like these meds.”
I chuckled and sank lower in the couch so that we could be eye to eye. “Doesn’t look like it to me.”
He craned a hand forward to caress my cheek. “I don’t like how they, you know, inhibit things.”
I couldn’t help but laugh again. “It’s okay. I can wait. You’ll be off them soon.”
“Not soon enough,” he said sleepily, then yawned. “Can we go to bed?”
I popped to my feet. “Absolutely.”
He made decent time getting up and walking down the hall.
We brushed our teeth side by side. I pretended to get handsy with him, letting my fingers roam in all the right places.
He batted me away as best he could and I let each hit land so he could win something.
Like the last two nights, he was able to get into bed without my help, but still needed a furniture store worth of pillows to stay in a certain position for optimal sleep.
No cuddling, unfortunately, but we could hold each other’s hands like the new lovers that we were.
“All set?” I asked him.
Another face-splitting yawn. “Yep.”
I scooted as close as possible to his barrier of pillows. Turned on my side. Put a delicate hand on his face and let my thumb trace his cheekbone. “Had a good day?”
“Sure did. You?”
“Every day with you is a good day.”
He made a sound. Corny, I know, but I could tell he appreciated it. Alex blew me a kiss. “Such a cheeseball.”
I attempted to shrug despite my position. “What can I say? You make me wanna say silly things.”
Alex’s face softened. “I can’t wait,” he said. His eyes drooped closed as sleep took hold.
“For what?”
“To build our future.” His words came out as a whisper but carried the weight of so much more.
I leaned in and kissed his forehead. Me, too .