"Hey, Carmine. When are we there, huh?"
"Another forty-five minutes, Len. You know, like I told you five minutes ago when you asked?"
"If you told me five minutes ago, then that only leaves forty minutes," said Lenny.
Carmine looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Are you trying to make me lose my mind completely, Len? ‘Cause it’s working."
"Sorry." Lenny twirled his thumbs, eyes darting around the interior of the plane. "God, I hate to fly," he said.
"Something else you and Laverne have in common," said Carmine. "Look, don’t worry, the plane’s not gonna crash." Carmine turned back toward the window beside him. "I wouldn’t get that lucky," he muttered to himself.
They had totally missed Shirley, but been lucky enough to grab the next flight after hers. Still, she was going to land a full three hours before them. Three hours is plenty of time to get from the airport to my folks’ place, thought Carmine, trying to keep the knot of panic in his stomach from overwhelming him. She might be there, right now, knocking on the door, Dad letting her in, acting all nice and normal, then…
"Can I have another drink over here?" he called to the stewardess.
"Hey, Carmine, you gonna be able to see straight by the time we land?" asked Lenny. "I mean, on account of the barrel of booze you’re downing, not because of the eye thing."
Carmine accepted a glass from the stewardess and knocked it back in one gulp. "With any luck, Len, I’ll be in a coma by the time we land. Then I won’t have to deal with this nightmare situation anymore." He started to raise a hand to ask for another.
Lenny stopped him, waving the stewardess away. "Carmine…" he said, a note of warning in his voice.
Carmine sighed. "You’re right. I’m gonna need all my brain cells to figure a way out of this." He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. "What the hell am I going to do, Len? I haven’t seen my parents in so long. I don’t want to be doing this!"
"I know, but maybe it’s a, you know, blessing in disguise."
"Oh? How do you figure?"
"Well," said Lenny. "It’s pretty obvious that you have a little stress over your impending nups."
"Maybe a little."
"Don’t you think that there’s a reason for that? I mean, assuming you really love Shirley…"
"…which I do."
"And you’re really sure she’s the right woman for you…"
"She is, Len. She is."
"Then somethin’ else has got to be making you go blind with worry."
"Oh, and so it must be my mother’s fault? That’s what that shrink you sent me to was tryin’ to get me to say." Carmine glared out the window again.
"Your mother…your father…maybe the two together. Is it so farfetched an idea?"
"What, Len, you think my parents having such a miserable, destructive farce of a marriage might stress me out on the whole idea? You think because they started out plenty happy, or so mom used to tell me, and wound up slowly, painfully killing each other with drugs and yelling and hitting might make me think twice about my own wedding?"
"Well?"
"No way."
"No, no. Of course not, Carmine," said Lenny, trying not to sound aggravated. "You’re right. I must be out of my mind. Wait, wait…I can’t see! Oh, no, that’s not me. That’s you."
Carmine gave Lenny a nasty look. "Fine. Maybe there’s a little truth to it."
"You think?"
They didn’t say anything for awhile.
"Carmine, what time…"
"Oh, here Len!" snapped Carmine, pulling off his watch and handing it to Lenny. "Next time, bring your own."
"Thanks, Carmine. Mine’s still busted." Lenny put the watch on.
Silence, again.
"You know, Carmine, you’re not exactly the only guy to ever come out of a less-than-happy family," said Lenny.
Carmine looked out the window. "I know that."
"Yeah, you know, me and Squig didn’t exactly get raised by no Ozzie and Harriets. And we turned out okay."
"Sure, sure. You two are models of normalcy."
Lenny completely missed his sarcasm. "That’s right! So, if I’m not worried about getting hitched, you shouldn’t be either."
"It’s just that simple, right?" said Carmine, drumming his fingertips on the window. "Just forget about it, do your own thing, never mind that you have no clue the way a good husband and father should behave. Just...fake it?"
"I guess so," said Lenny, sounding a little less confident.
"Great. I’ll try that. Look, now I’m cured! At least I’ll save money on the shrink."
Lenny sighed. "Okay, I give up. Be miserable. I’m just gonna sit back here in my seat for the next…" He consulted Carmine’s watch. "Thirty minutes and pray the engines don’t fall off."
"Fine."
"You won’t hear another word out of me."
"Wonderful."
"Great."
"Terrific."
More silence.
Then: "Lenny?"
"Yeah, Carmine?"
"Thanks for coming with me."
Lenny closed his eyes, trying to ignore the small bumps of turbulence that made his heart pound. "My pleasure," he said.
"Well, there it is," said Carmine, staring at the door to his old house.
"Yeah. Wow, this neighborhood’s a lot seedier than I remember," said Len.
They were standing on the front porch of one of the rundown rowhouses. The paint was chipped and faded on the shutters and door. The steps up to the door were cracked. The neighborhood itself was mostly deserted, except for an occasional kid on a bike racing past.
Lenny thought Carmine looked a little green around the gills. "I told ya you shouldn’t have had all those shots on the plane," he said.
"It’s not the alcohol, Len," said Carmine. He shuffled his feet like a twelve-year-old who was home past curfew. "I don’t think I can do this."
"You gotta do it, Carmine. What if Shirley’s in there? You don’t want to leave her alone with your dad, do you?"
Carmine gave himself a brisk shake. "No. No, I sure don’t want to do that. You’re right." Balling his hands into fists, he walked straight up to the door and knocked. Just a regular knock, not his usual. He saved that one for knocking on the doors of people he actually wanted to see.
A moment or two passed before the door swung open. A man who appeared to be in his late sixties peered out at Carmine and Lenny. "What do you want?" he snapped.
At the sound of his voice, Carmine shrank back. Then he straightened himself up and said, "It’s me, Dad."
"You?" The old man looked at him over thick, gold-rimmed glasses. "You who?"
Carmine sighed. "Your son, Dad. It’s Carmine."
The old man moved closer to him. "Well, so it is," he said, without a trace of emotion. "What brings you here?"
"I’m looking for someone. She…can we do this inside?"
"Oh. Right. Come on in, boy."
Carmine glanced back over his shoulder at Lenny, who was waiting down the steps. "Len, you wanna come?" he asked.
Lenny would have preferred to eat glass than go in with that cold, stooped old man. But he saw the desperation in Carmine’s eyes. "Sure, I’m comin’." He slowly climbed the steps and went inside.
The house wasn’t in much better shape inside than out. The green, shag rug had worn patches. The furniture, covered in plastic slipcovers, was frayed and faded. Clothes, dirty dishes, and old newspapers were scattered around the small living room. Carmine looked around the place, trying not to feel like a prisoner who’s cell door had just been slammed shut.
"Sit down, boy," said Carmine’s father, pointing to a chair. Carmine sat in it, obediently. Lenny looked around, found an old footstool, and eased himself down on it.
Carmine stared at his father. His hair was steel grey and his hairline a lot further back on his forehead. There were a lot more, hard lines in his face. But he basically looked the same as Carmine remembered. Maybe a little smaller?
"Oh, yeah," Carmine said, interrupting his own thoughts. "Dad, this is my friend, Lenny Kosnovski. Lenny, this is my…my father, Tony Ragusa."
"Hello, sir," said Lenny, with a half-hearted wave.
"Kosnovski, eh? I knew a Kosnovski once. War hero, lived on Delancey Street."
"Yes, sir. That was my father."
"Wife ran out on him, as I remember," said Tony.
Lenny squirmed on the stool. "That was my mom, sir."
"A real loosey-goosey, that one. Don’t feel bad, boy, you were better off without her."
Lenny was stunned. He wondered if Carmine would mind if he punched his father’s lights out.
"Dad," said Carmine, quickly. "I’m looking for a girl. Her name is Shirley Feeney, and…"
"Boy, I don’t know who your girlfriends are anymore. Why are you bothering me with this?"
Carmine took a deep breath. "Because she was coming her to see you. You and mom. She’s my…fiancee."
"No kidding?" said Tony. "You getting married?"
"Yes. Yes I am, Dad."
"How nice. Good luck to you. Hope she turns out better than that cow I married," said Tony. He reached for a beer can and took a swig.
Carmine flinched, then looked at the floor. "That’s my mother you’re talking about, Dad. Remember?"
"’Course I remember, boy! I ain’t senile. I ain’t wrong, either. A useless, lazy cow, she was." Tony put down his can. "You boys want a drink? I got some more in the fridge."
"I’ll get it," said Lenny. He got up as quickly as he could and walked into the tiny kitchen. Anything to get away from that miserable old coot for a minute.
Carmine looked at his father. "What do you mean was, Dad?" He looked around the room, his heart sinking. "Where’s my mother?"
Tony shrugged. "She’s dead, boy. Been dead almost six years now."
Carmine pressed a hand over his mouth. Lenny walked back in with the beers, just in time to hear what Tony had said. He handed a can to Carmine, and said, "Geeze, Carmine. I’m sorry."
"Don’t be," said Tony, waving to Lenny to hand him another one. "It’s not like he gave a damn about her."
Carmine said nothing. His eyes were wide, stunned. The words wouldn’t come.
"Aw, that’s not true, Mr. Ragusa," said Lenny. He put his hand on Carmine’s shoulder. "He loved his mom. He just didn’t know."
"’Course he didn’t know. He didn’t care. He was off gallivanting around, doing God knows what with God knows who." Tony opened his beer and took a swig. "Anyway, Marie’s gone. All gone."
"How?" Carmine finally managed to say.
"Come again?"
"How, Dad? How! How did my mother die?" he snapped.
"Oh. Heart attack. Or stroke. Something like that. I went to bed one night and boom. She was already gone. Always too fat for her own good. Not to mention all doped up. Only surprise is that it took so long."
Lenny looked at Carmine. He could see the strain on his friend’s face. "Carmine, we don’t have to be here anymore," he said, quietly. "Obviously, Shirl didn’t make it here yet. Why don’t we go find her?"
"Yeah, boy. No reason to hang around here. Glad to hear you’re marrying a girl. All that wanting to sing and dance when you were a kid made me worry that you were funny."
Carmine jumped to his feet, crossed the room, and grabbed his father by the front of the shirt before Lenny could do a thing to stop him. He pulled Tony off the sofa and slammed the old man against the wall. "You heartless bastard," he said through gritted teeth. "What did you do to her?"
"Her who? I told you, your girl ain’t been here!" Tony coughed, pushing at his son. But Carmine couldn’t be budged.
"Not her!" said Carmine, shoving his father against the wall again. "My mother! What did you do to my mother?"
"No…nothing, boy," said Tony. Lenny could hear some fear creeping into the old man’s voice. "I didn’t do nothin’ to her!"
"Oh, sure. Right. Like you did nothin’ to her when you came home drunk every night? Like when you did nothin’ to her because your coffee was cold, or you couldn’t find your slippers, or whatever other stupid thing you blamed her for?" Carmine’s voice was rising, his face flushed.
"Carmine, let him go!" said Lenny, alarmed.
Carmine didn’t let go. He said to Lenny over his shoulder, "You don’t understand, Len. He did something to her. I know it. Either he killed her himself or he let her die. Either way…" Carmine turned back to his father, his eyes narrowing.
Tony tried again to push his son away, but to no avail. "Let go of me, you worthless, good–for-nothin’…if you cared so much about Marie, where were you when she was still alive?" he shouted.
"It would have killed you to call me and tell me she was gone?" Carmine hissed at him. "Maybe let me know when the funeral was, so I could pay my respects?"
"I didn’t know where you were!" his father protested.
"Yeah, Carmine, maybe he just didn’t know how to reach you," said Lenny, desperately trying to diffuse the situation.
Eyes still locked on his father’s, Carmine said, "The phone book, Len. How many Carmine Ragusas were there in Milwaukee? I wasn’t that hard to find!"
"It wasn’t my job to find you!" shouted Tony. "It was up to you to come home. If you gave a damn, you selfish…"
Carmine thrust his father back against the wall with one hand and drew back his fist with the other. "Remember those boxing lessons you made me take?" he said in a low, dangerous voice. "How does it feel to be on the other side of the fist, Dad? You scared? Scared like she was?"
Lenny couldn’t watch any longer. He crossed the room with a speed that surprised him and grabbed Carmine’s arm. "No, Carmine. I can’t let you do this."
"Let me go, Lenny!" warned Carmine. "Believe me, he deserves it."
"That may be true. In fact I’m sure it is." Lenny clung to Carmine’s arm. "But you still can’t do it."
"Why not? You give me one good reason why not?" Carmine’s eyes never left Tony’s. His father had raised one arm across his face, shrinking back against the wall.
"Because he’s an old man. And you’ll break him in two. And I somehow don’t think you’ll be able to live with that, no matter how angry you are or how much he deserves it."
Carmine continued to try to pull away from Lenny. Lenny wrapped his free arm around his friend’s neck and tugged backward. For a guy his size, Carmine’s awfully scrappy, he thought.
"Look!" Lenny cried. "If you’re so mad that you have to hit someone, hit me! Go on, I can take it." I hope, he added to himself.
Carmine let go of his father’s shirt. Tony scuttled sideways along the wall, out of his son’s reach.
"I don’t want to hit you, Len. I want to hit him." But some of the venom had gone out of his voice. Carmine dropped his hands to his sides. "Let me go," he said, wearily. "I’ll be good."
Lenny released his grip on Carmine, slowly. When he was sure that the guy wasn’t going to go ballistic again, he stepped away from him. "Okay. Can we get out of here, now?"
Carmine nodded. "Yeah, why not? I’m done here."
"Sure, boy. Run away again. It’s your greatest talent," sneered Tony, still remaining at a safe distance across the room.
"You know, you’re a really pathetic excuse for a human being," said Lenny. "I don’t know how a guy like you wound up with a kid like Carmine, but you sure as hell don’t deserve him. Come on, Carmine." Lenny turned and headed toward the door. He couldn’t wait to get out of that smelly, dark place. It made him feel like he was in a coffin.
Carmine turned and followed him, silently. He paused in the doorway, then turned back to look at his father. Tony had already dropped back onto his plastic-covered sofa and picked up his beer. "Have a great life, Dad," he said. "I know I will."
Carmine closed the door behind him. He walked down the stairs to where Lenny was waiting.
"Carmine I…I don’t know what to say here," said Lenny, holding up his hands.
"I’m sorry you had to see that, Len. I should have had you wait outside."
"No, no, that’s okay. I think it’s a good thing I was in there."
"Yeah, on second thought, I guess it was." Carmine kicked a piece of broken step out of his way. "I wonder where Shirl is? She had a pretty big head start on us. Where did she go?"
"I don’t know," said Lenny. He followed Carmine, trying to keep up. "Look, Carmine, about your mom…"
"Forget it, Len. That’s the one thing my father’s right about. If I really cared, I would have been there when it happened. Or before, when it might have made a difference. That part isn’t his fault. It’s mine."
Lenny grabbed Carmine’s arm. "Whoa. Stop right there."
"Sorry, am I going too fast for you? I’ll slow down."
"No, not that. I mean, what you just said. That ain’t true."
"Len, it is true. I left my mother here. To die. With him." Carmine turned away from Lenny and looked up and down the street. "Now, where did Shirley get to?"
"No, it is not. You didn’t do a thing that anyone who wanted to stay sane wouldn’t have done. You got out of that…that…crypt. Heck, I don’t know how you stayed as long as you did! I don’t think I’d have made it past third grade." Lenny looked back at the door with its peeled, faded paint and shuddered. "And I thought Squiggy had it rough."
"He did, Len. So did you. Like you said, lots of kids had it rough when we were growing up. I’m nothing special." Carmine studied the back of his fist. "I only made it as long as I did because I had her," he said softly. "Until those last few years, I had my mother."
"She must have been a nice lady," said Lenny.
Carmine faced him and smiled, sadly, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Oh, she was, Len. You’d have liked her. At least, the way she really was. You know, she used to take me to the movies on Saturday sometimes. She liked the musicals, with Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire. She used to sing along, real quietly. But I could hear her." He turned his back toward Lenny, bowing his head slightly.
"I’m really sorry," Lenny said, helplessly.
Carmine raised one hand in a small wave. They stood that way for awhile, not saying another word.
"What are you guys doing here," asked Shirley, stopping in her tracks.
Carmine and Lenny looked up at her, startled.
"Angel Face! Where have you been?" Carmine asked.
"Lost, mostly. I rented a car, and I drove around and around, and then around some more, but I couldn’t find your street…your old street…what are you doing here?" she repeated. "How did you even know I was here? This was supposed to be a surprise."
"Oh. Well. Huh," said Carmine, with a short, strangled laugh. "You succeeded, sweetheart. I was puh-lenty surprised when Laverne told me."
"Yeah," confirmed Lenny. "You’d have surprised him any more, he’d have a German Shepherd and a white cane now."
Shirley looked back and forth at each of them. "Did I do something wrong here?" she asked. "I just thought that I could convince your folks to come to the wedding if I met them in person. I mean, I am very perky face to face…who could resist?" She grinned and showed her dimples.
Carmine sighed, stood up, and embraced her. "No, Shirl, you didn’t do anything wrong. I did. I should have told you about my family’s…um…situation, a long time ago. You were just tryin’ to do something nice for me."
"So, you want to go over to their house now? I still have about two hours until my flight…"
"No!" shouted Lenny. Carmine and Shirley looked at him. Shirley looked puzzled. Carmine gave him a brief grin.
"I mean," said Lenny more quietly. "I think Carmine’s probably had enough of a reunion for one day."
"You mean, you already saw your folks?" asked Shirley, disappointed. "Without me?"
"Yeah I saw my…my dad. Look, I think we’re all on the same flight, Shirl. Why don’t I tell you about it on the way home."
"Okay," she said, sounding unconvinced. "I’m going to get a soda pop. You boys want anything?"
"No thanks," said Carmine.
"I’ll take a beer," said Lenny. "Or ten."
"Leonard?"
"Just kidding, Shirl. Make it a Pepsi."
"You want any milk with that?" she asked him, with a wink.
"No thanks. I still take mine straight up."
Left alone again, the two men stared at their shoes. Finally, Lenny said, "Hey, there is one good thing about this, Carmine."
"Oh, there is? Go on, point out one good thing. I dare ya."
"You ain’t blind."
Carmine looked over at him. "I’m not," he said.
"No, you’re not. You can see just fine. Am I right?"
"You are right. I can see." Carmine held his hand in front of his face, wiggling his fingers. "Yep, there they are. What do you know."
"I also know that if that wasn’t just the most stressful thing you’ve done in a long time, I don’t know what stress means. So, maybe your little vision problem is solved."
"Maybe, Len. Still, I think I’ll stay away from forklifts awhile longer, just to be sure."
"You sure you don’t want to go to the cemetery? There’s still some time before our flight."
"Oh, Len, no. I don’t think so. I don’t need to stand and look at a headstone to say goodbye to my mother. I said goodbye fifteen years ago." Carmine frowned at his shoes. "Besides, I’m not even sure where she is. I didn’t exactly get a chance to ask my father before I, you know, threatened his life."
"Right, yeah, that’s true." Lenny was thoughtful for a moment. "I wonder if my mom is still around," he said, mostly to himself.
"I hope so," said Carmine. "I really do. Maybe you’ll bump into her again, sometime, like at a grocery store."
"That’d be nice. Not real likely, but nice."
"Hey, Len?"
"Yeah?"
"I’ve been wanting to ask you something. Especially after today...I know the timing is strange, but…"
"What is it?"
"Would you be my best man?" Carmine asked.
Lenny looked at him, startled. "Really?" he finally said.
Carmine smiled and nodded. "Yeah, Len. Who else would I ask?"
"Oh. Right."
"No, no, I didn’t mean it like that!" Carmine corrected himself. "What I mean is, well, Mr.DeFazio’s gonna give the bride away and Squiggy…he’s okay, I guess, but we aren’t really that close."
"And we are?" asked Lenny.
Carmine shrugged. "After all we’ve been through the past six months? Yeah, I’d say we’re getting there, Len. So, what do you say?"
Lenny smiled. "Sure, Carmine. Absolutely. I’d be honored."
Carmine nodded slowly, satisfied. He saw Shirley walking back with the sodas. "I hope I can do right by her," he said.
"You will," said Lenny. "You’re nothing like him, Carmine. You’re a good guy."
"Thanks, Lenny. That means a lot to hear you say that." He looked at Lenny. "You’re right. I’m nothing like him. I never will be," he said, emphatically. Then he looked back at his shoes. "Never," he repeated to himself, with a firm shake of his head, as though just repeating the word could make it so.