Fathers Day

"I never thought I’d set foot in this place again," said Frank, looking at the door to the rowhouse. He touched it uncertainly, as though afraid to go any further.

"Me, neither," said Lenny, remembering the last time he’d been here with Carmine and Tony. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Seeing it again reminded him how it had smelled of cheap booze and death.

"I guess we should knock, in case Carmine’s in there. Wouldn’t wanna scare him by just busting in." Frank gave the door two solid raps, then waited. Then he tried again. After still not receiving a response, he shrugged. "I guess he ain’t here. Maybe he didn’t come after all. Maybe he just went straight to the airport, to get away from all of this as fast as he could."

"Maybe," said Lenny. He tried the doorknob. It turned freely. "It’s unlocked."

"That’s odd. Tony was always paranoid, among his other charming traits. Not like him to leave his place open."

"Then maybe Carmine is here, just upstairs. He might not have heard us." Lenny turned the knob and pushed the door open. Gulping a little, he held out his hand. "Age before beauty."

"Thanks a lot," said Frank, reluctantly stepping into the dark interior.

"I can wait out here," Lenny volunteered. "You know, just in case…."

"Oh, sweet Jesus!" he heard Frank exclaim. "Lenny! Get in here!"

"What? What is it?" Lenny sprang over the threshold, startled by the sudden urgency in his father-in-law’s voice. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Frank was kneeling at the foot of the staircase, next to something on the floor. "What the…?"

"Carmine!" cried Frank, his hands on the unmoving man’s shoulders. "Carmine, say something!" He shook him gently. Lenny could see his father-in-law’s hands were trembling.

"What happened to him?" asked Lenny, dropping to his knees. He took in Carmine’s pale face and the nasty bruise on his forehead. "Oh, geeze. He must’ve fallen down the stairs."

"How? How could this happen?" Frank asked, clasping the injured man’s hand.

Lenny shook his head. "I dunno. Carmine’s not one for trippin’ over his own feet." He leaned a little closer to his friend, then put his hand on his chest. "He’s alive, Frank," he added with relief. "It’s okay. He’s alive."

Frank was rocking slightly. A single tear rolled down his cheek. "I did this," he whispered. "He must’ve been so upset after finding out. I should’ve been the one to tell him, Len. Maybe then…."

"Hey, calm down, okay? This isn’t your fault." Lenny put his hand on the older man’s shoulder.

"He’s my son, Len! My only boy! And I let him suffer in this house his whole childhood because I was too scared to claim him." Frank angrily brushed at his eyes, which didn’t leave Carmine’s face. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve never listened to your mother."

"Look," said Lenny firmly. "This isn’t helping. We’ve gotta try and do something for him now, okay? Whatever happened here in the past can’t be undone. But you can still save your son."

Frank took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was much calmer. "You’re right, Len. He needs me now." Frank leaned closer to Carmine and said firmly, "Wake up, son. You gotta wake up now." He watched the unconscious man’s face for a response, then said, "Len, go find a towel and soak it in cold water. Get ice if you can find it. And call an ambulance."

"Right." Lenny got to his feet and hurried into the kitchen. He found what looked to be a clean dishtowel and went to the icebox. A bag of ice was inside. He wrapped several cubes in the towel and ran back to the foyer. On his way, he grabbed a telephone and tried to call out, but found there was no service. Tony must’ve forgotten to pay a bill or ten, Lenny realized.

Back in the foyer, he handed the ice in the towel to Frank, who took it and pressed it carefully against his son’s forehead. "Did you call for help?" he asked.

"I tried, but there’s no service. I can go next door, if you want."

"Okay…wait. Just a minute."

Lenny crouched down again and saw Carmine stir a little. "Oh, good. See, I told ya he’d be all right."

Frank put his free hand against the side of the young man’s face. "That’s it," he said encouragingly. "You’re okay."

Carmine groaned. "Open your eyes," said Frank. "Look at me, son."

"Not…your…."Carmine murmured, turning away.

"What?" asked Lenny. "Carmine, can you hear us?"

"Not. Your. Son." he replied, a little more clearly. Then he was still again.

"Carmine!" called Frank, shaking him with greater urgency.

Carmine slowly turned his face back to them. "Not your son," he repeated, groggily. "Never be…son." His eyes opened part way, but he seemed to look right through Frank.

"Are you okay?" asked Lenny.

"No," said Carmine, blinking up at him. He opened his eyes a little wider and asked, "Len? Is that you?"

"It is," said Lenny, feeling a rush of relief. "Don’t worry, everything’s gonna be all right now. Your father’s here."

"My father?" Carmine turned his head a little until he was facing Frank. He looked confused. "Frank? What are you doing here?"

"Len and I came lookin’ for you, to make sure you were okay." Frank smiled at him kindly. "We found out you weren’t."

Carmine looked around, still blinking. "Where’s…my new father?"

Lenny exchanged a look with Frank. "He’s right here, Carmine."

"Where?"

Lenny was feeling a little worried. "Don’t you remember? You were just talking to him."

"I…know." Carmine sounded a little irritated, although his voice was still weak. "You said. He was here. Where?"

Frank swallowed hard, then said, "It’s me, Carmine. Don’t you recognize me?"

"Of course I do. But where’s my father?"

"You mean Tony?" Lenny tried.

"No!" Carmine suddenly rolled onto his side and pushed himself up until he was sitting.

"Take it easy, son," said Frank, putting an arm around his shoulders to support him. "We don’t have to talk about all this now."

"I think we do," said Carmine, his voice a little stronger. He pressed his hand against his head and grimaced. "How long have I been here?"

Lenny shrugged. "We don’t know. We just got here a few minutes ago."

"Son of a bitch," muttered Carmine. He cradled his head between his hands, as though it might explode. "He left, didn’t he? My own father left me to die!"

Frank cleared his throat. "I had no idea what had happened, or I’d have gotten here sooner. Believe me, I’d never want anything to happen to you."

Carmine looked at him, an expression of bewilderment and pain on his face. "What are you talking about? I don’t mean you, I mean my father. Helmut."

"Helmut? Helmut Squigman?" exclaimed Lenny.

"The same."

"What’s he got to do with any of this, Carmine?"

"He’s my father, Len. My real, biological father. Which obviously means a lot to him, considering he just tried to kill me!" Carmine groaned. "And I thought Tony was bad."

"Carmine," began Frank, utterly confused. "Helmut Squigman ain’t your father."

Carmine looked at him. "He’s not? But he had a letter from my mother, saying he is."

"What letter?"

Carmine glanced around, then pointed to the floor. "There. The letter, it should be there. It’s her writing, I’m sure of it."

Frank struggled to his feet and searched for a moment, then said, "There’s no letter here, Carmine."

Carmine sighed. "Helmut must’ve taken it on his way out. I remember a little of it…something about knowing deep in her heart that I was his, not Tony’s."

Lenny saw an expression of shock cross Frank’s face, which quickly darkened to anger. "Helmut showed you that letter from your mother as proof that he was your real father?"

Carmine nodded, wincing in pain at the movement. "She admitted she had an affair."

"Not with Helmut Squigman!" snapped Frank. "Except maybe in his dreams. Marie never gave him the time of day, no matter how much he chased her around – she had standards!"

"What do you know about this?" asked Carmine.

Frank knelt by his side again. "Carmine, I don’t know how Helmut got hold of that letter or got it into his big empty noggin that it was addressed to him, but your mother didn’t write it…."

"But she did," Carmine interrupted. "I recognize the writing."

"To me!" exclaimed Frank. "She wrote it to me, years ago, not long after you were born! She met me at the local dance hall and handed it to me, said she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. I was so heartbroken after I read it that I dropped it at her feet and just walked out." He stared into space for a moment. "Come to think of it, Helmut was hangin’ out there that night. He must’ve picked it up after we left and kept it all these years…but why? And why lie about this?"

"To you?" asked Carmine. He started to sway a little where he sat. His arms dropped limply to his sides. "Wait a minute. If she wrote it to you, then that means…."

"Right. That’s what it means," said Frank. He swallowed, then added. "Son."

"Oh," said Carmine. Lenny watched as his friend’s face, already pale, managed to turn a shade or two whiter. "Oh. I see." Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped over.

Lenny managed to get his hands between Carmine’s head and the floor before the two collided. He eased his friend back down and said anxiously, "I think you just finished him off."

"Great. Way to go, Frankie," muttered his father-in-law. He shook his head. "Help me get him into the car. We’d better take him to the hospital ourselves."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," said Lenny. He wrapped his arms around Carmine’s chest as Frank took his legs. They lifted him carefully and made their way out the front door.

"Why in the world would Squiggy’s father tell Carmine that he was his father if he knew it wasn’t true?" asked Lenny, puffing a little with effort.

Frank shook his head. "I dunno. But if I understand what Carmine was sayin’ correctly, he almost killed my son. And he’s gonna pay for that, Len. He’s gonna pay, big time."

Lenny gulped a little. He had no doubt in his mind that Frank would make good on his threat. If there was one thing his father-in-law valued above all else, it was the well being of his family.

***

Later that afternoon, Carmine found himself in the hospital emergency room with Lenny and Frank, whose entire face was crinkled with worry lines. "Are you sure he’s okay, doc?"

The doctor picked up a chart and made some notes. "Aside from some minor bumps and bruises, he’s fine. He should wait a day or two before driving or using heavy machinery."

"And there go my plans for fork lift racing," said Carmine in mock disappointment. He sat up on the examining table, only to find Frank’s hand on his chest, pushing him back down flat. "Hey, I was just kidding!"

"You’re just gonna send him home, just like that?" Frank was looking at the doctor in shock. "What if there’s some of that, you know, internal damage?"

"Sir, look. We checked him over thoroughly. Twice, at your request, including x-rays. Medically he doesn’t need any further treatment, other than some aspirin for when his head aches. Now, if you’ll excuse me…." The doctor turned to leave.

"Okay, then," said Carmine, sitting up again. Then he was on his back, Frank’s hand holding him firmly against the table. "Aw, come on!"

"Now wait a minute. I know you’re a busy doctor, doctor, but the boy was knocked senseless. You don’t just pat him on the head and give him a lollipop after somethin’ like that!"

"Lollipop?" asked Lenny hopefully. "You got lollipops?"

The doctor sighed. He reached into his lab coat and handed a wrapped lollipop to Lenny, who beamed at him gratefully.

"Hey, no fair," grumbled Carmine. "I’m the patient."

The doctor headed out the door, with Frank hard on his heels. Carmine took the opportunity to sit up again. He swung his legs over the table and started to hop down.

"Whoa there," said Lenny, around his lollipop. He held out his hand. "Why don’t you try just sitting for a minute or two before graduating to standing?"

"Len, cut it out. You sound just like my…like Frank." Carmine hung his head a little, a strange, sad feeling weighing at his heart.

"Yeah, well, I’d just rather you not keel over on me again." Lenny smiled kindly, putting his arm around Carmine’s shoulders. "This must all be really weird to you, huh."

"What me? Nah. In one day, I had not one, but two different men tell me that I’m their biological son, neither of which is the man who raised me." Carmine shrugged. "On the bright side, only one shoved me down a flight of stairs."

"Did Squiggy’s father really try to kill you?" asked Lenny, looking a little sick. "I mean, I know Helmut ain’t the most upstanding guy, but a cold-blooded murderer?"

Carmine sighed. "You know, Len, I’m honestly a little fuzzy on the details. I can remember what he told me…then he said something about my mother…." He shook his head. "He kept grabbing me, trying to keep me from going upstairs. After that, I’m not sure what happened. The next thing I can clearly remember is you and Frank looking down at me."

"And what Frank told you. You do remember that, don’t you?"

Carmine nodded. "Oh yeah. That part? Crystal clear."

"So. Are you happy? Sad? Angry?"

Carmine thought about it. "Yes," he replied. "You know, Lenny, when I was growing up, and Frank would invite me to dinner and later, when he’d help me out with money or jobs when I needed it, I sometimes used to pretend that he was my real father." Carmine chuckled a little. "I’d imagine what it would be like to be part of the DeFazio family, to have a happy mother and a great, lovable father, and a sweet big sister…." He trailed off, suddenly feeling a little nauseous.

"Carmine? You okay?"

"Oh, Lord. Laverne’s my sister."

"So?" asked Lenny, looking confused. "What’s wrong with that? I mean, a coupla hours ago, you thought Squiggy was your brother. I’d think it’d be a lot more pleasant for you knowin’ that my beautiful, wonderful wife is your sibling."

"Oh, it is, Len. It’s just that – never mind." Carmine couldn’t bring himself to say that the thought that he’d once made out with his own half-sister was making him queasy. Better that her husband never knew. He sure wished he didn’t.

"What are you gonna do now, Carmine?"

"About what?"

"Well, everything, I guess. About Tony. You gonna tell him off once and for all, now that you know you’ve got no blood ties to him?"

Carmine shrugged. "Maybe. But what’s the point? I came here wanting to find out why he didn’t like his own son and I did. The answer was simply that I wasn’t, and he knew it. At least now, I’ve got some sort of reason, something that I had no control over. No matter how good I did at school, or how well I minded him at home, or what I did in life, he could never love me. I was a living, breathing reminder that my mother had an affair. It doesn’t make it all better. But at least now, I understand."

Lenny nodded sympathetically. "So what about Helmut? You gonna have him arrested, right?"

"For what? Impersonating my father?"

"No, for tossing you down a flight of stairs and leaving you there! That’s gotta be a crime, even in Milwaukee."

"I told you Len, I honestly can’t remember what happened. It might have been an accident. As for the leaving part, I don’t know if that’s a crime."

"Yeah, well, it was a stinky thing to do to a person anyway, son or no son. Besides, from what you told us after we got you to the emergency room, he’s tryin’ to swindle you out of a lot of dough."

"That’s true, Len. For all I know, he got those account numbers and is already emptying the bank." A thoughtful look crossed Carmine’s face. "Although without my fath…Tony’s authorization, or mine if Tony’s gone, the numbers alone probably won’t do it."

"I guess that’s why he came up with this whole scheme. Otherwise, he’d have just stolen the numbers and used them."

"Right, although I find it hard to believe that he had the foresight to pick up that letter to Frank and kept it for all these years as part of his plan."

Lenny considered this. "Maybe he just kept it ‘cause he just wanted it, then when he heard about Tony’s heart attack, figured out that he could use it now."

"That’s pretty odd, right there, to keep something that was so private between my mother and Frank," Carmine mused. "You know, other than my mother’s letter, Helmut doesn’t have any proof that he’s my father."

"Because he’s not," said Lenny.

Carmine nodded. "Exactly. Which means I can prove that he isn’t. One paternity test should take care of his plans once and for all. Especially now that I have a real father to compare the results to."

Looking a bit reluctant, Lenny asked, "What about Frank, the winner of the father sweepstakes? Where do you guys go from here?"

Carmine looked away. "I don’t know yet. I mean, he knew for years, Lenny, since I was a baby! He waits until I’m thirty to tell me? In fact, he wouldn’t have even told me now, would he, if it weren’t for you pushing him into it. I guess," he paused, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "I guess he didn’t want me any more that Tony did."

"That’s not true," said Frank, stepping back into the room.

"Isn’t it?" demanded Carmine. "Then why, Frank? You tell me, after all these years, knowing that I was your own flesh and blood, why you never claimed me!" He jumped down off the table, swayed a little, and grabbed the edge for support.

Frank crossed the room quickly and took his arm to steady him. Carmine angrily pulled away. "Listen to me," said Frank, his voice unusually gentle. "I can explain."

"Explain what? Why you didn’t take my mother away from Tony, knowing how he tortured her? That I can actually understand. You were married to Josephine, and happy with her and your daughter. I can forgive that." Carmine took a ragged breath. "What I can’t understand is why you didn’t take me? Even after Josephine died, when I was a teenager, it wasn’t too late to get me away from that hateful man! I left home right after high school and you got me work, helped me get my life started – all the while you said nothing!"

"I said something today," said Frank, his eyes pleading. "You know the truth now."

"Now is too late," said Carmine, icily. "Now I’m my own man and I don’t need a daddy anymore. The only thing I need from you, the last thing, is an answer. Why? Tell me why!"

Frank lowered his eyes, shoulders slumped as if in defeat. Lenny started to edge toward the door. "I don’t think I belong here for this," he said, sidling out into the hall. "I’ll just be…um…out here."

Carmine continued to glare at Frank. "Well?"

The older man cleared his throat a couple of times. Then he finally raised his eyes to meet Carmine’s. "Okay. You got a right to know everything."

"Damn straight I do."

Nodding, Frank said, "I had an affair with your mother. We started out as friends. She’d come to me for help when Tony started getting drunk or pushin’ her around, just to talk. I told her a million times to leave him, until one night, she told me she was ready. We started celebrating her freedom, and one thing led to another…."

Carmine turned away. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this after all.

"Yeah, well, anyway. It was just the one time and I was all torn up with guilt over betraying Josephine. I told Marie that it would never happen again, that if she was gonna leave Tony, she’d have to make a life for herself. I wouldn’t be a part of it any more. I couldn’t."

"Then she turned up pregnant."

"Yeah. Your mother was a beautiful woman with a lot of fine qualities, Carmine. But she wasn’t very strong. She just couldn’t bring herself to strike out on her own. And so she stayed with Tony and yeah, she soon found out she was pregnant. Tony must’ve done the math, because right away he started screamin’ at her that you weren’t his. She begged me to meet her at the local dance hall one evening after work, and she gave me that letter Helmut waved under your nose." Frank looked ashamed. "I was still young, Carmine, and I was scared. Scared I’d lose my wife and daughter, scared of what people would say."

"And all that mattered to you a lot more than what might happen to your mistress and bastard son!" snapped Carmine.

Frank shook his head. "I did my best to protect you. Your mother made me swear not to tell Tony that I was the father, figured she’d have an easier time convincing him to pass you off as his if he didn’t know exactly who to blame. She used his own embarrassment against him, knowing he wouldn’t want people to think he couldn’t control his woman."

"Sounds like Tony."

"As for me, I never told Josephine. I always thought that I might, someday, but one day ran into another…it just got easier not to."

"It was that easy to turn your back on your son? You used to nag Laverne about not being a boy. All that time, you knew you had one." Carmine dropped his gaze to the floor. "I was nothing to you but a mistake, wasn’t I? A reminder of a weak moment, not your child."

"No, that’s not true. Carmine, look at me."

He raised his eyes reluctantly. The kind eyes, the smile behind the walrus mustache. They were all familiar, all comforting, or at least they had been. Now, it was like he was seeing Frank for the first time. He clenched his jaw and looked down again.

Frank reached over and cupped his chin in his hands, making him look up again. "You are absolutely everything I’ve ever wanted in a son. I’m proud of you, and I always was. What I did, lying all these years? I did to protect your mother and my wife, and my own self. But I especially did it for you."

"Oh, really?" Carmine tried to laugh but it came out wrong. "How do you figure?"

"I know how you felt about your mother. She was always the innocent victim to you, a madonna. I knew how it would hurt you to know differently. I also knew that everyone in the neighborhood would’ve treated you like garbage if they knew how you were conceived. The only way I could stay in your life at all was not to claim you. I couldn’t be with your mother and I couldn’t take you away from her – you were all she had. The most I could do was be a friend to you, help out here and there. Besides, if it was public knowledge, Tony’d have tossed you and Marie right out. This way, he had to keep you and at least give you a roof over your head, if nothing else."

Carmine felt tightness in his throat and chest, making it more and more difficult to speak. "What about after? When I was older and out on my own, close friends with your daughter – my own sister, dammit! Why not then?"

"I didn’t think you’d understand," admitted Frank. "I didn’t think Laverne would, either. So much time had already passed. I guess, I didn’t want to see that look in your eyes."

"What look?"

"The one that’s there now," said Frank sadly. "Betrayal, resentment…."

"Yeah, you got those right," muttered Carmine.

Frank nodded. He released Carmine’s chin, then ran one hand through his curly hair. "I’m just a selfish old man, who didn’t want his boy to hate him," he whispered. "It was easier for me to have you show me a son’s affection without knowing who I really was, than to tell you the truth and lose you entirely. I’m sorry I let you down, Carmine. I’m sorry for everything." He bit his lower lip, then smiled regretfully and turned away.

Carmine watched him leave the room. Then he sank down to the floor and hugged his knees into his chest. He sat there, just staring at the door and feeling his heart ache for a long time. It didn’t even occur to him until well after Frank left that he forgot to ask him to submit to a paternity test.

"Damn," he muttered, rising slowly to his feet and walking toward the nearby nurse’s station. "Oh, well, at least I can ask the doctor to get started with me."

***

Lenny felt guilty for listening in on Frank and Carmine’s private conversation, but he just couldn’t help himself. Finally, when it got to be too much to take, he turned and walked down the hall of the hospital.

He decided to go up to the floor with the babies. His was due soon and it would cheer him up to peak through a window at a bunch of new, wiggly infants. He walked down several hallways, looking for directions to the newborns. He paused for a moment as he passed Tony Ragusa’s room, spying a tall man with dark blond hair and a dark trenchcoat leaning against the wall. The man glanced up from the notebook he was writing in, his eyes shielded with sunglasses. He seemed to start at the sight of Lenny. Then he quickly turned and hurried off in the opposite direction down the hall.

"That was weird," Lenny said, watching him go. He continued on his way, but remained strangely distracted by the sight of the man. Why was he lurking outside Tony’s room? He didn’t look like a doctor. But besides that, there was something about him that was so strange, so familiar….

Before he could figure it out, Lenny caught sight of Frank stomping purposefully in the direction of Tony Ragusa’s room. He hurried over to his father-in-law and said, "What are you doin’, Pop?"

"I gotta have a little chat with Mr. Ragusa," he replied, his voice dangerously low. "A long overdue little chat."

"Okay, hold on just a second," said Lenny, concerned. "I know you’re angry, and I know Carmine is too, but you don’t wanna go and do somethin’ that’s gonna get you into trouble. That won’t help either of you."

Frank took a deep breath, then slowly released it. "Lenny, you’re a good boy. But you gotta stay out of this. I know what I’m doin’!"

"No, I don’t think you do. I think you’re mad and you wanna hurt the guy that hurt your son, but if you do this, you’re the one whose gonna wind up hurting, and so will your son and your daughter. So for both their sakes, if not your own, please, Pop, please don’t go in there!"

"You’re right, Len. I do wanna nail the rat bastards that hurt my son." Frank eyed the door to Tony’s room. "But not the way you think." He put his hand on Lenny’s shoulder. "I got a little idea, my boy, and Tony’s gonna be a part of it, whether he likes it or not."

"Pop…."

"Trust me, Len. Or at least, hear me out before you make a decision. In fact," added Frank, turning thoughtful. "Maybe you can even help me out."

Lenny thought hard, then said, "Okay. Lay it on me."

***

After leaving Lenny down the hall, Frank burst into Tony Ragusa’s room.

"Frankie. You back again?" Tony looked even more pale and withered than he had earlier in the morning. Somehow, it didn’t make Frank feel any sorrier for him.

"I got somethin’ to tell you before you go to your eternal punishment," said Frank. "Somethin’ that by all rights you shoulda known thirty years ago."

Tony was watching him with eyes like black marbles. "Go on."

"For years, I protected your family from you, but I finally realize that I didn’t do enough. I chose to go along with Marie and lie to you and the rest of the world, tellin’ myself it was the right thing to do to protect everyone involved." Frank shook his head vehemently. "If I’d have insisted on the truth, let the chips fall where they may, who knows what could have been? As it is, Marie wound up a wreck of her former self and Carmine missed years with a father who loved him."

Tony smirked. "Don’t stop now, Frankie. Go on, let me have it."

Frank took a step closer to the bed, his hands clenching and unclenching as he spoke. "You suspected, right from the start, that Carmine wasn’t your son."

"Pretty much," said Tony, his grin fading. "That’s what I get for marrying a slut."

"What you didn’t know is who his real father was. Marie begged me to keep that from you, out of fear and shame. But she’s gone and your time’s short, and our boy knows the truth. Now, so should you."

"’Our boy’, Frankie?" Tony leaned forward slightly in his bed. "What you trying to tell me?"

His face inches above Tony’s, Frank hissed, "He’s mine, Tony. Carmine’s my son!"

Tony just looked at him as though Frank had told him what the weather was like outside.

"Did you hear me, you rotten, bitter, waste of humanity? I had the affair with Marie. I gave her that boy. And God help me, I gave him to you, too."

Tony cleared his throat. "You done?"

Frank blinked, puzzled by Tony’s complete disinterest.

"I see that you were expecting a better reaction. Maybe I should scream, clutch my heart, and keel over at this amazing revelation of your?" Tony gave a snort. "You think I didn’t know it was you, Frankie? The way you always acted around my wife, my Marie? Always there, givin’ her a shoulder to cry on, havin’ her over to your place…please. You weren’t exactly subtle."

"You…you knew?" asked Frank. "But, you never said…you didn’t…?"

"What? Throw that lying tramp and the kid out? Pull you off the line at work and give you the thrashing you deserved?" Tony coughed, then said, "Oh, believe me, I considered it, Frankie. You don’t know how close you came to bein’ dumped in the lake. Back in the day, I had the connections…but no. That would’ve been too easy. I didn’t want to let you off the hook, old buddy. I wanted to watch you squirm, day after day, year after year, knowin’ that I had your son. Every Italian man wants a son to carry on his name, don’t he? It must’ve killed you, knowin’ yours would carry mine!"

He laughed. "Ever wonder why I let Carmine spend so much time at your place, Frankie? I’ll tell ya. I wanted you to feel connected to your boy, just enough so that it hurt even more when he’d come home to me. I wanted you to be close, so close to a real father and son that you’d ache for it. I knew you’d never take that next step; that he’d always be just out of your reach. Tell me now, Frankie, ‘cause I need some cheerin’ up. Tell me how much it hurt you!"

Frank drew back a little. "It tore me apart inside," he admitted. "But not anymore, Tony. I took that next step, maybe too late, but I did it. He knows the truth now. So even if he can never forgive me, even if I lost the closeness we had, at least he’s finally free of any obligation to you!"

"There’s a lot to be said for that," said Carmine from the doorway. Frank turned and looked at the young man hopefully.

"You hear all that, boy?" asked Tony. He squinted a little. "What happened to your head?"

"As if you care," scoffed Carmine. He walked over to Frank’s side, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at Tony. "Congratulations. You’re finally free to stop pretending that I’m yours. It must be a great relief, knowing that you’ll never have to hear me call you dad again."

Tony shrugged. "You think so? You like your new daddy better, huh?"

Frank glanced at Carmine, who gave him a small smile. "Yeah, I sure do."

"Even though he’s a liar and an adulterer?"

"At least he’s not a wife beating, drunken child abuser!" snapped Carmine.

"Hey, I never laid a hand on you. Much. Only when you had it comin’." Tony shifted with difficulty in the bed.

"It doesn’t matter anymore. I know I was never anything more to you than a reminder of what my mother did."

"Damn straight!" snarled Tony. "How’d you feel, if the kid you were raising belong to the guy your spouse cheated with? Would you be able to look at it with love? I doubt it!"

Frank saw Carmine cringe at this, but he held his ground. In a much calmer tone of voice, he said, "You know what? Right now, my wife is helping me raise a daughter that I fathered by a woman she despises. I cheated – maybe not on a spouse, but certainly on someone I loved – and that child is the result."

"You always was just like your mother," muttered Tony.

"Thank you, but that’s not the point. The point is, Shirley not only let me bring this girl into our home, she encouraged it. Since then, she’s been a wonderful, loving mother to her, treats her with respect and caring. This girl is already ten years old; not even a little baby that she’s known from birth! So you’re wrong, Dad…Tony…whatever. It is absolutely possible to love someone else’s child and raise them as your own, even if they were born out of a mistake. It’s just something you weren’t capable of."

Frank felt a surge of pride, but Tony simply shrugged and said, "That’s real sweet, kid, and hey, I was kinda glad to have you. You were my opportunity to get back at Frankie. I knew that every time you ran to him, all sad because I gave your mamma a hard time, or pointed out what a loser you were, it made him suffer a little more. That almost made your existence worthwhile."

His hands tightening into fists, Frank took a menacing step toward the bed. Only Carmine’s hand on his shoulder stopped him before he could make another move. "Don’t waste your time," he said softly. "What he says doesn’t matter now." Carmine drew closer to the bed and smiled down at Tony, his eyes utterly cold. "You can’t hurt me, old man, not anymore. Spew your venom to the hospital walls, because I’m done with you. I’ve got the father I always wanted now, the father I deserved. From now on, you’re nothing more to me than a bad memory." With that, he turned his back on Tony and walked out of the room.

"You see?" said Frank after Carmine was gone, pointing to the door. "You see what you threw away? Tell me, Tony, was it worth it, givin’ up what you could have had with that boy just to punish his mother and me?"

Tony was glaring at the door. Without meeting Frank’s eyes, he said, "Get out, Frankie. Our business is over."

"Almost," said Frank. He turned around, walked over to the door, and peered into the hallway. Empty. Then he shut the door and strode slowly back to Tony’s bedside.

"Wh…what are you doing?" asked Tony, his voice trembling a little.

"You got your revenge on me, thirty years’ worth," said Frank, cracking his knuckles. "Now it’s my turn."