Fathers Day

By: Old Time Fan

"You sure you ain’t gonna have that thing right now?" asked Squiggy, eyeing Laverne’s bulging stomach with obvious concern.

"No. That thing, as you so nicely put it, still has a few weeks to spend in the Hotel Laverne." She rubbed her abdomen and groaned. "Although I wouldn’t mind if the little bugger wanted to make an early appearance."

Lenny chuckled, then quickly glanced away at his wife’s dirty look. "Sorry, hon. That’s my kid in there. He or she is gettin' free eats and free room and board. I know I’d stay put."

Laverne sighed, then struggled to her feet. It took her two or three tries to rise from their table at the Pizza Bowl Too. "Where you heading?" Lenny asked.

"Bathroom. Again."

"Geeze, you’re gonna whiz the kid right on out, you keep doing that," Squiggy warned.

"Yeah? You try havin’ an eight pound weight tap dancin’ on your bladder round the clock, see how much control you have!" snapped Laverne.

Lenny nearly snorted beer out of his nose as his wife waddled off in the direction of the Ladies’ Room. Squiggy raised an eyebrow at him. "She always this cranky?"

"Are you kiddin? That’s downright merry, these days." He shook his head, smiling. "Vernie’s just havin’ a tough time, you know, being all heavy and water-retainey and stuff. You know, she was all right after the morning sickness went away, but now, eight months in, she just wants the kid out already. So do I, I guess. I wanna see what it is."

"Yeah? You takin’ any action on that outcome?" asked Squiggy.

"What, like, a bet?"

"Yeah, like, a bet. Boy or girl, c’mon! What do you say?"

Lenny considered it. "Yeah, okay, that’s cool. I’ll take…boy. No, girl. No, boy!"

"Which is it?" Squiggy demanded, plunking his wallet on the table. "Boy, girl, or other…decide?"

"Other?" asked Lenny, horrified. "Is other a possibility? The doctor never mentioned other!"

Squiggy sighed. "Fine, fine, we’ll stick to boy or girl. That’s like, almost, fifty-fifty odds anyway."

"Okay. I’ll take boy."

"You sure, now?’

"Yeah…well…no. Yeah. I’m sure. Boy."

"Boy it is!" crowed Squiggy. "Ha, I am so takin’ your money! How much you bettin’, anyway?"

Lenny pulled out his wallet. "A buck?"

"What? Don’t be stupid, dummy! A buck ain’t worth the effort."

"Two bucks?"

"Ten!"

"Ten? No way! I got a kid to feed soon, Squig!"

Squiggy groaned and leaned back in his chair. "Fine. Five then."

Lenny nodded. "Okay. Five on…what did I say again?"

"Boy!" snapped Squiggy. "As in, boy are you a loser, because that’s a girl in that there oven!"

"How do you know?"

"I can tell," said Squiggy. "My old man used to win almost every baby bet he made, and when I was a kid, he taught me how. He told me that if the pregnant lady’s belly is the only part that’s fat, then it’s a boy and if she’s fat all over, it’s a girl. And your wife, Lenny my friend, is fat all over!"

"Hey, watch what you say about Laverne!" Lenny warned. "She ain’t fat, she’s full of baby! It’s different."

"Yeah, so’s my father!" laughed Squiggy. He looked thoughtful, then added, "Different, I mean, not fat."

Laverne rejoined them, dropping heavily back into her chair. "What’d I miss?"

"Your hubby here…." began Squiggy.

"Nothing! Nothing at all," Lenny smiled and took her hand. "Say, don’t we have a dinner date at Shirley and Carmine’s tonight?"

"Oh, right," said Laverne, not looking happy.

"What’s wrong? Don’t you wanna go?" asked Lenny.

"Oh, sure. Well, yeah, I mean, I’d like to see Carmine and Shirley and that cute little Lucy. It’s just that, you know, Shirley…."

"Right," said Lenny, nodding in understanding. "She’s gonna cook."

"And expect us to eat it," Laverne said, swallowing hard.

"Maybe Carmine’ll convince her to order Chinese?"

"Maybe. Hopefully." Laverne rubbed her tummy again. "Maybe a little spicy food will convince junior here to come out a little sooner. Wouldn’t that be nice?"

Lenny stood up and extended his hand to Laverne. "C’mon. I’ll call Carmine before we go over and drop a big ol’ hint about ordering out. See ya later, Squig?"

Squiggy looked up at him. Lenny was startled to see how unhappy he suddenly appeared. "Squig? You okay?"

"Huh?" Squiggy gave his head a brisk shake and waved a hand at him. "Me? Oh, yeah, sure, I’m tops. Why wouldn’t I be?"

"I don’t know. You just looked a little down there for a second."

"It’s your imagination," Squiggy insisted. He put a wide smile on his face that Lenny just didn’t buy. "Go on, you two crazy married kids, go have a nice night with those other, settled folks. Me, I got some fun to be had. You remember fun, right, Len? It’s what single guys get that you don’t no more!"

"Yeah. Right," said Lenny. He smiled uncertainly at Squiggy and waved. "You take care. See ya around?"

"Right. You betcha!" Squiggy tilted his chair backward and looked away.

Lenny started to say something else, then thought better of it and led his wife outside. Once they were in the car, Lenny asked, "Did you notice anything weird about Squiggy today?"

Laverne burst out laughing. "As opposed to every other day of the week? No, why do you ask?"

"Well, he just seemed – I don’t know – a little sad back there. You think something’s wrong?"

Laverne stretched. "I think maybe he’s a little lonely. You know, Rhonda’s been off shooting that movie on location for a month now, and he doesn’t have a close relationship with anyone in his own family. Really, the only family he’s ever had was you and the rest of us, to a lesser degree."

"You think he misses us? Me?" Lenny was touched. "Wow. Most of the time, I think he can’t stand me. You really think he wishes we was hangin’ out again all the time?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. But that’s just the way it goes. Some guys grow up and get married — not necessarily in that order – and some don’t."

"Still. Maybe Squig would like a little company." Lenny nodded resolutely as he started the car. "Yeah, a guy’s day out, just me and Squig and Carmine. That’d be swell."

"Sure," shrugged Laverne. "I’ll put up my swollen feet and eat a box of Mallomars with Shirl one day this weekend and you guys can go out and have fun."

Lenny looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Are you serious, or is this one of those tests that when I go ahead and do what you say is okay, it ain’t really okay and you’ll hit me with a heavy object when I try to leave the apartment?"

"No, Len, I’m serious," she said, grinning. "Go on, have some guy time with Squiggy. After all, once the baby arrives, you won’t get the chance again for a long time."

"Right. Okay, thanks. I’ll do it!" Feeling a little better, Lenny drove off in the direction of Laurel Vista.

***

"Lucy, honey, did you set the table?" asked Shirley.

"Yes, Aunt Shirley."

"And did you wash your hands like I asked?"

"Yes, Aunt Shirley."

"And did you tell your father to change into something presentable before our guests arrive?"

"Yes, Aunt Shirley," said Carmine, walking into the kitchen. Lucy giggled as he tickled her from behind. "I told my slob of a father to dress like a human because he’s certainly not capable of doing that without his wife telling him!"

Shirley sighed heavily, but her dark eyes were sparkling as they turned to him. "Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But you were looking a little slovenly, dear."

"I was rotating the tires on the car," said Carmine. "How’d you expect me to dress to do that, in a tux?" He walked over to his wife and picked her up in his arms. She protested mildly, but he ignored her. "So how am I now? Am I presentable?"

Shirley pointed to the floor and he put her back down. She walked around him, checking out all sides, before pronouncing, "You look very nice."

"Thanks." Carmine looked over at his daughter and winked. "Did you see that, what she did right there? That was all just an excuse so she could check out my behind."

"Carmine!" Shirley exclaimed in mock horror. "In front of the child!"

Lucy laughed, a musical sound that filled Carmine with joy. He sometimes still couldn’t believe how completely he loved the little girl, after less than a year of knowing her. At first, he had feared that looking at her would remind him of Lucille and how close she came to destroying his life with Shirley. But all he saw when he looked at Lucy was a sweet, innocent child, his child. And that was all that mattered.

The phone rang, startling Carmine from his reverie. He picked it up and said, "Hello?"

"Is this Mr. Carmine Ragusa?" asked a female voice.

"Last time I checked, yeah. And this is?"

"Mr. Ragusa, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you."

"What is it, sweetheart?" called Shirley, coming into the living room.

Carmine shook his head, pointing to the phone. "Okay," he said uncertainly into the receiver.

"Well, it’s about your father."

Carmine’s heart sank. "Oh, Lord. What’d he do now?"

After a moment, the woman’s voice said, "He had a heart attack."

"Oh."

"Sir? Don’t you want to know how he is?"

"I guess. Sure."

"It was touch and go at first, but now his condition is stable. He’s been asking for you."

"No kidding," said Carmine.

There was a pause, then the voice went on. "He’s at Milwaukee General Hospital. We thought you should know…."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks." Carmine hung up the phone. He sat and stared at it as though it might bite.

Shirley sat down beside him. "There’s something wrong, isn’t there? I can tell by the look on your face. Who died?"

"My father," said Carmine. Seeing the stricken look on her face, he quickly added, "I mean, the bad news is about my father. He’s not dead. Well, not yet anyway."

"Oh, Carmine!" exclaimed Shirley. She took his hand. "I’m so sorry, honey. When did it happen?"

"Um, I don’t know."

"Well, is he all right?"

"I’m not sure."

"Carmine! Didn’t they tell you anything?"

"They told me he had a heart attack." Carmine leaned back against the sofa and crossed his arms. "For some reason, they say he was asking for me."

"Of course he was! Carmine…you make no sense to me sometimes." Shirley took a deep breath. "Where is he now, do you know that at least?"

"Yep, that I got. Milwaukee General Hospital."

"So, when are you leaving?"

"Leaving where?"

"Here…Carmine!"

"What?"

"You are going to visit your father in the hospital, aren’t you?"

He looked at her face, searching her flashing eyes for the right answer. "I am?" he tried.

Lucy patted his arm. "I’m sorry, daddy." She looked up at him with her large, brown eyes. "Are you sad about grandpa?"

Carmine flinched at hearing her refer to the man in such a familiar way. "Lucy, would you mind going upstairs for a few minutes? I need to talk to Auntie alone. Okay?"

"Okay," Lucy stood up and started to leave, then paused. She went back to the sofa and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you," she said. Then, she ran upstairs.

"Do you want Lucy and me to go with you to see him?" Shirley offered.

"Oh, God no!" exclaimed Carmine. "I don’t want either of you anywhere near my father, ever!"

"Carmine? What is wrong with you!"

"What do you mean?"

"I…I don’t know…you’re just taking this very strangely, that’s all."

Carmine sighed. "What do you expect me to do? Burst into tears? Drop on my knees and pray for his speedy recovery? Shirley, I don’t like the man. He’s a hateful drunk who treated his family like garbage. Just because he’s sick now doesn’t mean we’re suddenly close. Believe me, if our roles were reversed, he wouldn’t pull his ass out of his easy chair to make sure I was still breathing."

Shirley’s mouth dropped open. She stared at him as though he’d grown a second head. "I can’t believe I’m hearing this," she whispered. "How can you say that, how can you feel that, about your own father? I know he has his faults, and you were never close, but still! Do you want him to die with all this unresolved between you?"

Carmine shrugged. "I’m sorry, Shirl, but I’m not like you. Your dad can drink and whore around and ignore you your whole life without making you love him one bit less. I’m sure if he had a heart attack, you’d run to his side and nurse him like you’d spent every day for the past decade together. Me, I’m not like that."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he had gone too far. "Just you leave my father out of this!" warned Shirley. "For all his faults, and he has lots of them, he’s never hurt me or my mother and I know he still loves me. I certainly would be at his side if he needed me, because I wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for him. Just like you wouldn’t without your father."

"Yeah, well, maybe that’s true, and your father actually does seem to love you, even if he has a weird way of showing it. But my father doesn’t love me, and that feeling’s mutual. So why go and pretend that I care now? He won’t buy it and I won’t mean it. What’s the point?"

"Carmine, the point is…well, it’s just the right thing to do! You don’t turn your back on family when they’re in need and you don’t let a sick old man die without saying goodbye to his only son. And before you tell me how much he doesn’t care, just think, think really hard, back to when you were little. Can you honestly tell me that he never did anything for you, never showed you any affection at all?"

Carmine sighed. "Shirl, I know you don’t want to believe this, because you never want to see the dark side of people. That’s one of the things I love about you so much. But the truth is, I can’t remember my father ever once treating me with anything close to love. The only person who has ever showed me anything near a father’s affection is Frank DeFazio."

Shirley pursed her lips. "Well, then, that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. I mean, your dad must have wanted a child at some point or you wouldn’t be here."

Carmine stood up and started to pace. "Shirl, don’t be naïve. Lots of couples have kids without planning or even wanting them." He glanced pointedly at the stairs. "The only thing I’m convinced wasn’t accidental about my family was that I was an only child."

"What about this?" Shirley held up her left hand and pointed at her ring finger. "Your dad gave this to you, your mother’s ring, for our wedding! Why would he do that if he didn’t care about you at all?"

"One decent act doesn’t fix the rest, Shirl." Carmine could hear anger in his voice, but wasn't exactly sure for whom it was meant. "I know this sounds really cold to you, but I don’t give a rat’s patoot whether the old coot lives or dies. Sorry if that makes me a bad person, but it’s the truth!"

"Then I’m sorry too," said Shirley. She stood up and started back into the kitchen. She paused and turned back to him. "Carmine, the problem is that you aren’t a bad person. But you’re going to feel like one if you let your father die without even trying to reach out to him." Then she left the room.

Carmine dropped back onto the sofa and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. Reach out to that selfish, abusive old son of a bitch? he thought. I’d rather hug Squiggy.

***

"Oh, geeze, I’m sorry to hear that," said Lenny. "So I guess you won’t be around this weekend, huh?"

Carmine shrugged. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

Lenny wondered if he’d missed something. "You just said your dad had a heart attack. So, that means you’re headin’ off to Milwaukee. Right?"

"No," said Carmine, staring at his shoes. "It doesn’t."

"Oh. Wait. Huh?"

"Ah, c’mon, Len. I thought you of all people would understand." Carmine stood up and started pacing back and forth. Lenny hated when he did that; it made him dizzy to watch. "You actually met my father! Why would I be running home to see him just because…."

"…he’s about to die?" Lenny finished. He shrugged. "I dunno. I guess because that’s what people do?"

Carmine stopped and glared down at him on the sofa. "Why? Why do people suddenly decide they give a crap about someone else just because they get sick? He didn’t just sprout wings and a halo, you know. He’s just suffering the effects of living a lousy life!"

"Right," said Lenny, slowly. "I suppose that’s true. But how many fathers you got, Carmine? Me, I have one, or at least I think I still do. It’s been awhile…."

"Yeah, and you had a mother that got on a bus and left you when you were in kindergarten," said Carmine. "Are you telling me, Len, that if she turned up out of the blue tomorrow, and she was in the hospital, that you’d go and see her?"

Lenny thought it over. Then he said, "Yeah. I think I would. ‘Cause at least I’d have the chance to ask her why she left. Maybe find out what I did – or coulda done different

-- anyway, we ain’t talkin’ about my mother."

"No, you’re right. We’re talking about my father."

"No. Not even. Really, we’re talkin’ about you, Carmine."

"Me?" Carmine arched his eyebrows. "How do you figure?"

"Well, your old man’s a real stinker, no question. Sometimes, though, when you think you ain’t gonna see another day, even a real stinker might want to change. Or at least apologize."

"Apologize?" Carmine laughed. "You mean, to me? You think my old man would actually say...no chance, Len. No way in hell!"

Lenny shrugged. "I’m just sayin.’ I know how I felt, back a couple years ago, when you and me were trapped under Cowboy Bill’s. I seem to recall we made some big changes in our lives after that."

"Yeah, but that was different," argued Carmine. "I didn’t hurt Shirley for years and then decide to apologize. Well, maybe I had hurt her a little, with those other girls." He dropped back onto the sofa again. "I guess it took something life-threatening to feel sorry about it, too."

"So don’t you think it’s possible your dad is sorry now? I mean, he kinda took a step toward you by givin’ you that ring before your wedding. Maybe, if you take a little step toward him, he’ll meet you halfway."

Carmine shook his head.

"Okay, well, what do I know?" asked Lenny. "Look, forget it. He’s your father; it’s up to you. I should keep my snout out of it. All I was really gonna ask you is if you wanted to go away for the weekend with Squig and me, do a little fishing, have a few beers. I guess if you’re not goin’ to Milwaukee, you’re still welcome."

Carmine turned to face him, his dark brown eyes haunted. "What if he doesn’t?" he said softly.

Lenny rewound their conversation in his mind. "What if who doesn’t what?"

"My father. What if he doesn’t apologize? What if he wants one last chance to tell me what a waste I am? Because that’s probably what would happen if I went."

"Which is why you’re not going."

"Right. If he really isn’t sorry and this is the end for him…for us…then I’d rather just not know."

Lenny reached over and put his hand on Carmine’s shoulder. "But if he is, and you don’t go, you’ll never know that either."

Carmine let out a deep breath. "I’m going to have to do this, aren’t I, Len?"

Lenny nodded. "I think so. Yeah."

"Damn." Carmine leaned back on the couch and covered his face with his hands. "Okay," he said, his voice muffled. He let his hands drop back into his lap and stared at them like a smacked puppy. "Okay. I’ll go."

"Good. Well, mostly good," said Lenny. "I’m sorry you won’t be joining us this weekend."

"Me, too," muttered Carmine. He managed a weak smile. "I never thought I’d say this, but I wish I were going to be spending two days away with you, Squiggy, and a bunch of fish instead."

"Maybe next time," said Lenny. "Hm, maybe I should ask Frank to join us since you can’t. You know, a little father-in-law, son-in-law bonding."

"That’s a nice idea," said Carmine. "Frank likes to fish. I don’t know how much he likes Squiggy, but you never know. The fish might win out."

"Dinner’s on!" called Shirley from the kitchen.

Laverne waddled out and dropped down in the side chair with a sigh. Lenny leaned over and whispered, "How bad is it?"

Laverne glanced surreptitiously at the kitchen, then whispered back, "It’s pasta. A little mushy, but mostly harmless."

"Oh, thank goodness," sighed Lenny. Then he gave Carmine an apologetic glance.

"Don’t worry about it," Carmine said with a grin. "I’ve got no illusions about my wife’s cooking skills." He patted his stomach. "There’s a reason I stay trim, and it isn’t just exercise!"

"Where are you all?" asked Shirley, sticking her head into the room. Her cheeks were dotted with red specks. "The sauce popped all over me again, Vernie. I wish it wouldn’t do that!"

"I told ya, Shirl, you can’t let it boil! Simmer – that thing where you keep the lid on the pot – remember?"

"But then it takes so long," whined Shirley.

"And has flavor," Carmine said under his breath.

"Yeah, wouldn’t want that to happen," chuckled Lenny.

Laverne shot both of them a look that was half-warning, half-agreement, then held her arms out to Lenny. "Help me up, sweetie?"

"Sure thing." Lenny rose, grasped her forearms, and hauled her to her feet. As she walked back to the kitchen, Lenny saw Carmine watching her with a pained expression.

"Aw, don’t feel bad," Lenny said as he and Carmine started to follow. "You and Shirl will have a little Ragu of your own soon enough."

"Huh? Oh, I know. I’m not worried about that," said Carmine. "It’s just…."

"Yeah? Just what?"

"You really love your kid already. I can see it, every time you look at Laverne, or pat her tummy. It’s written all over you, Len."

Lenny grinned. "Sure, I do. What kind of guy doesn’t love his own kid?"

"Exactly," said Carmine. He started to say something else, then just shook his head.

For the rest of the evening, Lenny wondered what Carmine was getting at. But he never finished the thought and Lenny felt too badly for his friend to push it.

***

"So, Pop, you gonna join us tomorrow?" Lenny asked, helping Frank clear a table at the Pizza Bowl Too.

Frank sighed. "Lenny, it’s real nice of you to ask. But me and Squiggy for a whole weekend?" He shuddered, then wandered off into the restaurant kitchen.

"Aw, he ain’t that bad, once you get to know him," insisted Lenny, following him.

"I know him plenty! All I want to know, I know," snapped Frank. "Look, he’s not really a bad boy underneath it all."

"That’s right."

"But there’s a whole lotta stuff to get under and I just don’t feel like working that hard on my day off." Frank tossed a stack of dishes into the sink.

Lenny wondered how he learned to do that without breaking them all. He lowered his pile more gingerly to the counter in the big kitchen. "Okay, I guess I understand. It’s just that Squig’s been kinda down lately. Lonely. I thought if he was around some guys, knew that he still had buddies, it might cheer him up."

"I’m too old to be a buddy!" said Frank. "What about Carmine? Why don’t you drag him along to buddy up with Squiggy?"

"I was gonna, but he’s gotta go to Milwaukee."

"Milwaukee?" asked Frank, wiping his hands on a striped dishtowel. "What for?"

"His father. He had a heart attack. Carmine’s gonna go visit him."

"Why?" asked Frank.

Startled, Lenny didn’t say anything for a moment. "Um, because his father had a heart attack," he repeated slowly.

"So Carmine’s actually gonna waste his time and money to visit Tony?" Frank shook his head. "That boy’s got too big a heart for his own good!"

Lenny scratched his head. "You’re kinda soundin’ like you think he’s making a mistake."

"Of course he is! That old bastard, he don’t deserve a boy like Carmine, never did!" Frank began waving his hands, his voice rising. "Tony Ragusa is a no-account, lowdown, waste of flesh! Always was, always will be!"

"Yeah, but," said Lenny, backing away slightly. "I mean, if he’s gonna die, don’t it seem right that Carmine…."

"If he dies, he’ll be doin’ Carmine a favor!" roared Frank. "Not to mention the rest of the world!"

"I take it you don’t care for Carmine’s old man much," said Lenny, retreating until his back was pressed against the big oven. It was a little warm for comfort, but he stayed put.

Frank crossed the room and stood right under his nose. His thick eyebrows were knit together like angry caterpillars fighting over a leaf. "Care for him?" Frank said very softly, in a way that was more frightening than when he shouted. "Care for him? No, Lenny, I more than don’t care for Tony Ragusa, I hate the man. I hate him from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head. I hate him for what he did to his wife Maria, for what he did to Carmine, for what he did to…." Frank broke off abruptly and turned away.

"Did to…who?" asked Lenny, intrigued. He inched away from the oven. "Pop, did Tony Ragusa do somethin’ to you?"

Frank shook his head. "Never mind. It was a long time ago. None of that matters now." He turned and faced Lenny again, his expression softening. "Look, Len, I ain’t mad at you. Just hearin’ about Tony, it reminds me of some old, bad stuff. If Carmine wants to visit his sick father, then that’s his choice."

"Well, it wasn’t his first instinct," admitted Lenny. "I kinda talked him into it."

"You what?" Frank shouted

Lenny winced and found himself back against the oven again. "I…I…."

"Why’d you do that? You wanna see your friend miserable?"

"I…no! I just thought…you know…it was the right thing…."

"Right thing?" Frank’s arms were waving again. "The right thing for Carmine was to leave home and never go back in the first place! The right thing would be for him to forget that he was raised by that bastard!"

"But what if Tony dies?" cried Lenny. "I mean, the guy’s his father."

"No, he isn’t!" shouted Frank.

Stunned, Lenny just stared back at his father-in-law. Frank’s mouth dropped open and he slapped his hand over it, as though trying to catch his own words. They stood there for a good long time, just looking at each other.

"F…forget I said that," said Frank, turning around and hurrying over to the sink. He began washing the dishes with unprovoked urgency.

"Wait a minute," said Lenny, crossing over to his side. "Did you just say…?"

"Nothin.’ I didn’t say nothin.’"

"But you did. You said…."

"It was a mistake. Let it go, Len."

"I don’t think I can," said Lenny. He put his hand on Frank’s arm and stopped him from scrubbing the pattern off a dish.

Frank heaved a sigh and reluctantly turned to face him. "Lenny, sometimes my temper gets ahead of my good sense. Please, son, let it go."

Lenny pressed his lips together, then shook his head. "No. Pop, you just said that Tony isn’t Carmine’s father. What made you say somethin’ like that?"

Frank’s shoulders slumped forward. "Because he ain’t, Len. Tony ain’t Carmine’s father. Not really."

"Oh, my God," said Lenny. His mind was spinning. "Is that…is that why…?"

"Is that why Tony treated Carmine like dirt and called his own wife a slut and made both their lives a living hell? Pretty much, yeah. Besides the fact that he was just plain mean and rotten."

"So Tony knows. But Carmine, he don’t, does he?"

"No, Len, of course not! And you can’t tell him!" Frank grabbed Lenny by the shoulders. "Promise me, you’ll keep this between us."

"But why?" asked Lenny, getting more and more confused. "I mean, this is kinda good news for Carmine, isn’t it? The old man he don’t like and never wants to be like ain’t his old man after all. Why not tell him? In fact, why haven’t you, long before now?"

Frank hung his head. "Don’t think I haven’t wanted to, especially when that boy was comin’ to my house just so he could get one decent meal in peace. Josephine, God rest her soul, she might have understood. But…."

"But?"

"Len, look. Carmine may not have ever been close to Tony, but he adored Marie. Put her on a pedestal, like all good Italian boys do to their mammas. If I’da told him that she broke her marriage vows, that he was someone else’s son, it’d have hurt him terribly. And I didn’t want to do that to him. The s.o.b that was raising him made him feel lousy about himself and his mother every damned day. I just couldn’t add to that." Frank looked at him with pleading eyes. "You can understand that, right?"

"I guess," said Lenny, not convinced. "But Carmine’s a grown man now. I think he could handle it just fine. In fact, I’m sure he’d be plenty relieved to know. Say, if Tony ain’t his father, who is?" Lenny tapped his chin with his forefinger. "Come to think of it, how do you know all this? It ain’t like Carmine’s mother would’ve told everyone that she –

you know. Vo-de-oh-doed behind her husband’s back." Lenny gave a short laugh. "I mean, except for the guy she vo-de-oh-doed with."

Frank lowered his eyes and let his hands drop to his sides.

Lenny looked at him curiously. Then his eyes widened as a flash lit up his brain. "Oh! Oh, no way! You?" he cried.

"Shhhhh!" hissed Frank, clamping one large, meaty hand over Lenny’s mouth.

Lenny pushed his hand away and took a step back, holding his chest. "You?" he repeated in a loud whisper. "You’re Carmine’s real father?"

"Yes!" snapped Frank, his eyes shining. "Yes, all right! You happy now? I’m his father!" He paused and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was choked with emotion. "I’m Carmine’s father. My God, I don’t think I’ve ever said those words out loud before."

Lenny realized his own mouth was still hanging open. He closed it and dropped to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees as he sat there absorbing it all. Finally, he said, "You gotta tell him the truth."

"Are you kidding?" asked Frank, leaning back against the counter. "How is that supposed to work? ‘Hey, Carmine, here’s your pizza. Oh and I forgot to mention for thirty years, I’m your real father?’" He shook his head.

"I don’t know how you’re supposed to say something like that," said Lenny. "But you’ve got to figure it out. Because if you don’t, I will."

Frank shot him a desperate, angry look. "You wouldn’t!"

Lenny nodded. "I would. I will. It ain’t right, you keepin’ this from him all this time. In fact, it ain’t right at all!" Lenny rose to his feet, surprised by his own, sudden anger. "Why didn’t you take him away from Tony when he was a kid? If you knew, and Marie and Tony knew, that Carmine belonged to you, why didn’t you get him the hell away from that monster? You could’ve raised him as your own! You should have, Frank!"

"Don’t you think I thought about that?" Frank replied, pounding the counter. "Don’t you think I wanted to claim him? But, Len, I had a wife and baby girl of my own to think about! As much of a scandal as havin’ a baby with some other guy’s wife would be today, it was unthinkable thirty years ago! Marie and I, we would have destroyed two families, plus wrecked our son’s life. Carmine would have been a bastard in the Biblical sense, and that was a real stigma back then. Tony would have thrown him and Marie out on the street if everyone knew the truth. He only stayed with Marie to hide his own shame. The way we handled it…at least I could help my boy a little. And I have, over the years. God knows, I’ve tried." Frank reached up and wiped away a tear.

Lenny looked away, embarrassed. "Okay, look, I’m sorry. I got no right to judge you over somethin’ you chose to do a long time ago. But your wife is gone and Marie’s gone. They don’t care about reputation or hurt feelings no more."

"Laverne will," said Frank softly. "Don’t you think it’d break her heart to know that I cheated on her mamma?"

"And fathered one of her best friends. Oh, geeze," groaned Lenny. He slapped his forehead. "I didn’t think about that. She’ll be floored!"

"In her condition, son, does that seem like a good idea to you?" asked Frank.

"No," said Lenny, defeated. "No, that wouldn’t be good for her or for our baby."

"So, you’re not gonna tell her, are you? Or Carmine?"

"No, I ain’t," said Lenny. He glared at Frank. "Don’t think you’re off the hook, though. I still think Carmine has a right to know, and even though it’ll hurt her at first, so does Laverne. Our baby’s due in a month. After little baby Kosnowski makes his appearance, I’m gonna give you one last chance to tell them yourself!"

"Or you will," said Frank, his voice much smaller than usual.

"Or I will," Lenny confirmed.

Frank nodded. "Okay. After the baby is born. At least I’ll have time to try to come up with the right words." Frank met Lenny’s gaze, his eyes filled with regret. "I loved my wife, Len. I just want you to know that. It was one time with Marie, just one time."

"Sometimes, that’s all it takes," sighed Lenny. He felt very tired all of a sudden. "Look, about this weekend…."

"It’s okay. You and Squiggy go have fun."

Lenny nodded and started to walk out of the kitchen. "Okay, Pop. I’ll see ya later."

"Yeah," muttered Frank.

Once out of the restaurant, Lenny leaned back against a tree and gazed up at the sun-filled California sky. How was he going to look Carmine in the eye, knowing that the man’s whole life was one big lie? Worse yet, how was he going to hold Laverne in his arms and not tell her that one of their best friends was actually her half-brother? That her father had betrayed her lost, sainted mother in the worst possible way?

"I ain’t no good at secrets," groaned Lenny, banging the back of his head against the tree. "I’m gonna screw up and then they’ll know and the whole world world’s just gonna explode."

"The world’s gonna explode?" came an eager, familiar voice from below. Lenny looked down and saw Squiggy grinning up at him. "When? Can I watch?"

"No!" snapped Lenny. He sighed. "Sorry, forget it. Nothing’s really blowin’ up."

"Aw," said Squiggy, looking disappointed. "I always miss the fun stuff."

Lenny gave himself a shake then managed a smile, "So, you lookin’ forward to this weekend? It looks like it’s just you and me and the fish."

"Oh, right. This weekend. Well, actually, it looks like just you and you and the fish, my friend."

"What?"

"No, who."

"Huh?"

"Let me explain, my tall, simple man," said Squiggy, smiling from ear to ear. "I got me a surprise yesterday."

"Must’ve been a good one, judging by your face," said Lenny. Good, he could use some happy news. "What’s going on?"

"My old man’s invited me to Milwaukee this weekend, on him. Sent me an airline ticket and directions to his fine hotel and everything!"

"Your father?" asked Lenny, incredulously. "Helmut Squigman, your father?"

"Yes, yes, I said that, didn’t I? Check it out." Squiggy handed him a manila envelope.

Lenny opened it and saw a letter, wrapped around a plane ticket. He opened the piece of stationery and read it aloud. "Dear Andy, Daddy’s about to hit the big time. I want my favorite son by my side when my ship comes in. Use this ticket and come see me to find out all about it. Love, Mr. Helmut Squigman, Esquire."

"See?"

"Um, yeah. Wow, I guess this is great, Squig. Congratulations."

"You don’t sound too enthused," said Squiggy, taking back the envelope and letter. "Look, I know me and my Dad had some harsh words last time he came out here, and I ain’t seen him much my whole life. But now that things are finally goin’ his way, he thought to contact me first. That’s gotta mean somethin’, right?"

Lenny looked into his friend’s hope-filled eyes and smiled. "Of course it does. It means he cares about his son. That’s really nice to hear for a change."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Look, Squig, it’s great. And never mind this weekend. We can go fishin’ any old time. You just go and have a great time with your father. Just remember not to give him any money, okay?"

"I know, I know," said Squiggy, waving his hand. "Hey, he’s payin’ for my ticket and everything else, right? He ain’t after money, not this time. I know it."

"Sure. Look, I gotta get home. Vernie’s expecting me."

"Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you later." With that, Squiggy sauntered off into the Pizza Bowl Too.

It’s nice to see him happy again, thought Lenny. Too bad it ain’t gonna last. Whenever Helmut Squigman stepped into Squiggy’s life, it always turned out the same. A day or two of fun and happiness, then the other shoe dropped. He either hit Squiggy up for money or tried to get him involved in stupid get-rich schemes, or just plain left without warning. Maybe this time would be different, but Lenny wasn’t convinced.

"I guess I came out pretty well in the father sweepstakes," he realized. "At least my dad did what he could for me." Lenny stuck his hands in the pockets of his Lone Wolf jacket and walked slowly back to his car.

He paused with his hand on the door handle, as another thought started to swim to the surface of his brain. "Wait. Carmine’s father wants to see him before he kicks off. I thought maybe it was to make amends. But now I know he ain’t Carmine’s real father. And he knows he ain’t Carmine’s real father. So he’s probably not gonna apologize for jack. Which means, the only thing he’d want to tell to tell Carmine on his deathbed is…oh, sweet Lord!" Lenny spun around and sprinted back into the Pizza Bowl Too.

"Frank! Frank! Frank!" Lenny shouted, careening through the restaurant. He whipped around the corner, slipped on something wet in the kitchen, and fell flat on his back.

Startled, Frank whirled around, clutching his chest. He stood over Lenny, eyes so wide his eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. "What? What the hell is goin’ on?" he exclaimed.

Lenny struggled to catch his breath. When he was finally able to get a word out, he wheezed, "Carmine’s. Father. Gonna. Tell. Truth."

Frank’s face dropped. "What did you say?"

Lenny tried again. "Carmine’s father’s gonna tell him the truth!"

"No," said Frank. He shook his head. "No. He wouldn’t. Why now? It’d just hurt his…hurt Carmine."

"Right," said Lenny, sitting up slowly. He pressed a hand against the small of his back. "Which is what he’s done his whole miserable life. What better way to cap it off than dump something like this on the guy, right before he dies and avoids the fallout?"

"Oh. Oh! Ohhhhhh." Frank buried his face in his hands. "Len, what am I gonna do?"

"Stop him," said Lenny, rising to his feet painfully. "We both are."