Twenty-One
My suit is too large for my frame. My hands and face are ghostly white. The sun feels blistering to a man who has become a hermit. I punch my head over, and over to silence the tsunami of voices admonishing me. I didn’t say good-bye. I didn’t tell her I love her.
Nobody notices my outburst. They’re chatting and hugging like they’re at a family picnic.
Cable is sitting quietly, staring at his hands that are folded in his lap.
Guys from Phoenix surround him like an entourage.
Some are battered and bruised. Others look bored sitting with their arms crossed and their legs stretched.
I watch as Alex kisses one of my relatives on both cheeks and then glare at her for making nice with someone who I haven’t heard from in years.
The mourners settle down to listen to Father De Luca as he begins his eulogy. Alex sits next to me. Her fingers entwine with mine. Nick and his family sit next to her. I’m not listening to what Father De Luca has to say. I’ve heard it all before.
I’m keeping my promise to her and burying ma with her Madonna medallion.
Alex helped me choose her burial outfit.
We chose the same one she wore when she surprised us with a boatload of food.
There must be a place where memories go to die because I don’t remember myself the way I was back then. I only know that I was happy.
Father had asked me if I wanted to say something. I didn’t. I don’t. Ma can’t hear me, so there’s no point. Instead, he had me briefly describe my mother, her passions, her successes, as if a life can be summarized in point form.
It’s an express funeral, for those who aren’t financially able to go for the gold standard. A psalm is said. A prayer is spoken. A priest I don’t know honors a woman he’s never met. It’s all a farce.
Sentiments of pity ripple throughout the crowd as the coffin is being lowered. Earlier, I asked Alex to wheel me close before ma disappeared forever. Taking my journal from my inside coat pocket, I place it on the casket. “So that you can read my diary in heaven, mamma. Give pop a kiss for me.”
Father De Luca entrusts ma to God’s care. A hymn is sung. The end.
“Pip. I’m so sorry for your loss. She was a wonderful, smart, woman, and an amazing mom. We all loved her.” Brenda’s arms are like a noose around my neck.
I should show her my gratitude. I should thank her, but I wondered what I’m supposed to be thankful for. The fact that she loved someone who deserved to be loved?
“She asked me to give you this when, you know... when it was time.” Brenda reached into her purse, and handed me a folded sheet of paper, yellow with age. “For the record, I don’t know what it is.” She squeezed my shoulder and turned her attention to her whining daughter.
The square sheet of paper was delicate. It was lined paper, like the kind I used to use for school, or used to write letters to Santa. Carefully, I placed it in my suit jacket pocket to read in private.
Cable came up to me and patted my arm. No words were necessary for a man who has been touched by death’s spindly hand. A few guys from the gym offered their condolences. The rest hurried off to catch the rest of the game on T.V.
“Hey. Sorry, man. Your ma was one of the good ones.” My cousin Robbie’s hair stood on end as if he had put his finger in a socket. The baseball hat he normally wore was scrunched in his hands. The last time I spoke to him, we were seventeen years old. “Everyone’s asking where the reception is.”
Lord, please forgive me my sins and give me my Goddamn legs back so I can punch him into tomorrow. “This is it.”
“What do you mean, this is it? No dinner?”
“Get out of my sight.”
“Geez, man. Sorry. There’s always food after an Italian funeral.”
“Get the fuck out of my sight!”
“Get outta here!” Nick shoved Rob, causing a stir among the sea of little old ladies dressed in black, and young punks dressed in jeans. “Have some respect.”
“Me? He’s the one who went off on me. He’s crazy man. Maybe that sucker punch caused some brain damage.”
Nick laughed. Loudly. With a fistful of Rob’s T-shirt in his hand, he said something that made the entire crowd disperse. “Apologize to Pip or I’ll tell everyone how you’ve been skimming cash out of your old man’s till since you got out of training pants, you dumb fuck.”
“Let him go.”
“Why? I have him right where I want him.”
“Because he’s insignificant.”
Again, Nick shoved Rob who stumbled backwards and bit his hand to illustrate he was ready for a fight, but he left with his tail between his legs.
“What did that guy say to you? Are you okay?” Alex was dressed elegantly in black. Her matching pumps were digging into the grass with each step. It was almost comical.
“Where were you?”
“I was chatting with your uncle.”
“None of these people matter.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you’d want me to. I thought you said you were close to your family.”
“And then they showed their true colors. I want to go home.”
“I’ll get the minivan,” Nick said.
Alex stared down at me, both literally and figuratively. “I loved her too, you know. I thought of her as a mother. I understand you’re hurting, but I can’t say anything right and I’m starting to get a little tired of walking on eggshells around you.”
I couldn’t apologize. I was too angry at my so-called family whose sole purpose today was to get a free meal. Instead, I softened my heart and let Alex in. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I handed her the note. “I want you to open it. Ma gave it to Brenda to give to me after she died.”
“Me? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Ma would want you to be a part of this.”
Alex wiped at her eyes and gently unfolded the sheet of paper, but not before kissing it.
“It’s so old. It’s almost falling apart.”
“I know. Is it legible? What is it?”
“It depends. What does Z-E-P-P-O-L-E mean?”
Words can break a heart or help piece it back together.
I thought my mother would leave me final words of wisdom or pass down a story I’ve never heard.
I thought that I could read something heartwarming, or comforting.
Looking up at Alex, the woman who still owned my heart, I told her, “It’s a donut recipe. ”