by Shay Stone
“Really?” he asks, as tired of being cooped up as the rest of us. “Who they playing?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m taking my son to one damn baseball game before …” I pause, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from losing it in front of him.
“Before what?”
“Before the end of the season,” I cover. “Now go on. I want to leave soon.” He races up the stairs taking two at a time, leaving Nyla and I alone again. “I don’t want him to know, okay? I don’t want that to be the entire focus of the day.” She nods, still too broken up to speak. “Come on. Let’s wake Conner up and get ready.”
Dressed in our baseball jerseys, we head out for the day, determined to make memories. With the exception of Nyla breaking down here and there and me fighting not to, the day is everything I wanted. The wide-eyed wonder on Conner’s face when he takes in Mammathus, the mammoth will live in my heart forever.
We take pictures and videos capturing every moment, stopping the occasional stranger to ask if they’ll snap a photo of our group. I know Conner is too young and probably won’t remember this day or me, but I lie and tell myself he will. And he’ll have the photos and video as a reminder.
After posing for a picture, pretending to be terrified of the Tyrannosaurus Rex behind us, Mason and Conner take off to check out the brontosaurus. Nyla accepts her cell phone back from the older gentleman that took the shot and thanks him. Tears threaten when she views the photo.
“Don’t worry. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around her from behind.
Her breath skips. “Are you talking about the dinosaur or you?” she mumbles, attempting to break my hold, but I only tighten it. She stops fighting and rests the back of her head against my chest. “I’m sorry. But it’s like we’re documenting the last day of your life.”
I bury my face into the crook of her neck. “I know. And maybe it was a mistake to do all this today. I just thought if I gave him one good day—one incredible day— maybe he’d remember it. Maybe he’d remember me.”
She pivots in my arms. “I will never let him forget you, Memphis. Never.”
My lip trembles. This is hard. This is so fucking hard. Nyla cradles me to her, and I allow myself a mini breakdown, shaking it off as quickly as it started. She brushes away a tear from my cheek and grips my hand. “Come on. Let’s give our son a day he’ll never forget.”
We finish up in the gift shop where I spoil Conner, buying him every plush toy, puzzle, and book he shows the slightest interest in. After a quick stop at home to drop off our lot, we catch a ride to Yankee stadium, arriving in time to catch the end of batting practice. While I’m no fan of the Boston rival, my hatred dulls when one of the outfielders lobs a ball to Nyla for Conner. I think it’s the first genuine smile she’s had all day. The fact that she’s holding it together as much as she is stands as a testament to her strength.
“Daddy, I got a ball,” Conner says, his face radiating happiness.
We gorge on stadium food and manage to get through the entire game without tears. By the time we arrive home, Conner is passed out on my shoulder, tuckered out from all the excitement. I lay him on the couch, caressing his head several times. I’m tempted to wake him just so I can hear him call me, “Daddy” one more time before I leave, but I think better of it.
“Thanks for today. I had a blast,” Mason says, coming out of the kitchen popping open a soda. “You want to play a little Madden?”
“Maybe later. I’ve got to head out for a bit.” I manage the reply with only a slight crack in my voice.
“Cool.”
He makes a break for the stairs, but I catch him, dragging him into a bear hug. “I love you, Mase. I’m so fucking proud of the man you’ve become.”
“Thanks?” he replies like a question, confused by the random emotional outburst. “I love you, too. Okay, Memphis. This is starting to get weird.”
“Sorry.” I release him, watching him head upstairs until he’s no longer visible. “Promise me you’ll look out for him. You and Conner are all he’ll have.”
Nyla runs a hand over the expanse of my back. “He’ll always have a home with us. He can live here as long as he likes, and he’ll never want for anything.”
Emotion starts to overcome us. I shake my head in thanks and disappear into the laundry room, swapping out my shirt and return holding my jersey. “This was my dad’s. He gave it to me. I want you to give it to Conner when he’s old enough.”
“I will.” She takes it and cups it to her chest. “It smells like you. Do you mind if I sleep in it awhile before I put it up?”
“Not at all. I knew I’d get you in a Red Sox jersey one day,” I tease, and she laughs through tears. I glance at the time on my phone and draw her to me, pressing my lips to her head. “It’s time.”
“No … no … no,” she repeats over and over, tightening her hold on me. “Please don’t.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and summon every bit of strength I have. “Shhh … I have to do this. I need you to be strong, okay?”
“Okay,” she mumbles, wiping her nose with her hand. “Memphis …” She breaks down, unable to get out the rest.
“I know, angel. I know.” I lay kisses to her forehead, her eyes, her lips, lingering as I commit the feel of them to memory. There’s a slim chance I’ll make it out of this alive and be shoved into witness protection, but I won’t share that with her. I’d rather her think I’m dead and find some happiness in life rather than live in limbo, clinging to any hope I’ll return.
We step onto the porch where the car I arranged is waiting by the curb. I frame her face with my hands and gaze deep into her eyes. “You are the love of my life.” We share one last kiss before I leave her in shambles on the porch.
“I love you, Memphis Drake. And I always will,” she calls out as I sink into the backseat, pulling the door closed. I stare out the back window keeping my eyes homed in on her until the car turns the corner, then settle in for the ride across town and prepare to face my fate.
FIFTY-TWO
Forty minutes later, We pull up in front of the quaint home in Queens. The street is filled with kids playing stickball and riding bikes like it’s just another normal day. My heart aches knowing that’s another milestone I’ll miss with my son.
Drawing in one last deep breath, I trudge up the steps like a man walking to his execution and tap on the door. There are some grumblings from the other side as Gino twists and unchains the bevy of locks.
“Memphis,” he croons. “Giovanni said you’d be coming over. Valerie, look who it is.”
The petite Italian woman comes around the corner, wiping her hands with a dishtowel. Her face lights up when she sees me. “Memphis! We missed you so much.”
“Hey Gino. Valerie. It’s good to see you,” I reply, handing Valerie a box of cannoli I picked up from the bakery I know she favors. I’m pulled into a hug and smothered with kisses.
“Come in. Come in.”
Gino leads me into the living room where he falls into his usual recliner while Valerie perches herself on the arm of the chair. I take a seat on the brown and orange flowered couch across from them, comforted by the familiar velvety feel and the smell of pasta and sauce baking in the oven.
“It’s about damn time your skinny ass finally got around to seeing us,” Gino razzes.
“I’m sorry it took me so long. I wanted to come by sooner, but I needed to get some things in order first.”
“You know, if you hadn’t run out in the first place, you wouldn’t need to apologize. Whatever it was, you could’ve come to us. You’re family. We would’ve helped you.”
I know he means that. They never treated me like anything less. Whenever there wasn’t a Katie’s Helpers event, we would play bocce and then head back here for a huge lunch Valerie always had waiting. Nyla and I ate countless Sunday dinners here. Valerie was constantly nagging me to find a nice girl like Nyla for Gio
vanni. When I left, I ran out on them too, and I feel like shit for it.
“Leave him be,” Valerie scolds, looking upon me like a long-lost son that’s returned.
“No, Gino’s right. You deserve an explanation, and I’m ready to give you one. Just as soon as Giovanni gets here.”
Gino rolls his eyes and rubs at his chest, popping some antacids into his mouth. “That kid will be late for his own funeral.” He sniffs the air, frowning. “Is something burning?”
Valerie throws her hands in the air rocking to her feet. “The lasagna! I have to take it out to rest. But I be back with drinks. Giovanni be here soon. Then we eat,” she says in her slightly broken English.
Gino waits until his wife is out of ear shot before taking me to task. “What the fuck happened to you? I know you wouldn’t break Nyla’s heart like that without a damn good reason. And I’m pretty sure it has something to do with that guy that came looking for you in the park that day. What kind of trouble did you get yourself in? Talk to me.”
Before I can answer, Giovanni barges through the door full of apologies. “Sorry! Sorry! I got caught up in a case.” He kisses his dad on the top of the head and pulls me into a hug when I stand to greet him. “Good to see you, man.”
“Nice of you to finally show up,” Gino quips, rubbing the light stubble on his jaw.
“It’s been crazy at the precinct. Tony Moretti’s death has everyone on edge. We’ve all been working double shifts. It’s the perfect time to take down the organization,” Giovanni says, hitting me with a look or maybe I’m imagining it because of why I’m here.
“Memphis, we should talk.”
Shit. It wasn’t my imagination. He knows something.
Valerie reemerges, accepting a kiss on the cheek from her son. “You boys can chat later. Now we eat and have a nice dinner to celebrate Memphis’s return.”
We adjourn to the dining room, feasting on pasta, salad, and homemade bread. Our conversation remains light. They ask about Nyla and are happy to hear we’re working things out. I push the food around my plate forcing down each bite, not wanting to insult Valerie. It’s fantastic, but my mind is heavy in thought, and that’s doing nothing for my appetite.
When supper is finished, we clear the table and Valerie surprises us with her famous tiramisu. She went all out, and I know it’s for me. “Gino, I forget serving knife. You get.”
“I’ll grab it,” I reply, scooting my chair back across the carpet.
Gino stands, waving me off. “Sit. I got it. I want to get some Amaretto to add to this coffee.” He winks rubbing at his chest again as he stands.
“You alright?” I ask, a little concerned.
“Fine. Just a little agita.”
Our conversation resumes. I’m showing off pictures of Conner when we hear a crash. “Pop, you alright?” Giovanni calls out, glancing up from my cell screen.
No answer. I’m on my feet streaking toward the kitchen where I find Gino sprawled across the floor, unconscious. “Shit! Giovanni, get in here. Call 9-1-1!”
I drop to my knees and press my fingers to Gino’s neck. There’s no pulse. I begin chest compression, trying to maintain focus as Valerie’s cries rip through the air. One hand flies to her mouth while the other clutches Giovanni’s arm. He stands frozen beside her, looking on in horror.
“Does he take nitro?” They don’t respond. “Does he take nitroglycerin?” I shout, snapping Valerie out of her daze.
“Sì.”
“Get it!”
She scurries off to fetch it while I continue administering CPR. “Giovanni, you need to call 9-1-1.” He remains glued to the floor with his eyes fixed on his dying father. Valerie returns, carrying a phone and holds out the prescription bottle.
“You take. I call ambu … ambu … ambulanza,” she says, unable to come up with the English word in her distress. She shakes the bottle at me impatiently, not comprehending that I can’t stop what I’m doing.
I motion my head toward the bottle. “Giovanni take those from her and put one of them under Gino’s tongue.” He still doesn’t move, paralyzed by fear. “Goddammit, Giovanni! I can’t do this by myself. Pull your shit together and help me or he’s going to die.”
My words jar him from his stupor. The clouds lift and he springs into action, grabbing the pills and dropping down across from me. “Memphis,” is all he manages, but I hear his unspoken request. “Don’t let my dad die.”
The muscles in my chest scream in protest and my arms grow tired, still weak from being shot, but I refuse to give up. I have no idea how long I’ve been at it. A minute? An hour? I check his neck again feeling for a pulse. It’s faint but it’s there.
“He’s back,” I inform them, falling back on my haunches with relief.
Gino remains unconscious, but at least he’s alive. The sound of a siren blares from outside, signaling the arrival of the paramedics. Valerie hurries to open the door, leaving Giovanni and me alone with Gino.
Giovanni lifts the gold cross hanging from his necklace and kisses it. His shoulders relax and he gives me a small smile. “Thank God you were here. You did it, man. You saved him. You saved my pop.”
FIFTY-THREE
At the hospital, I sneak off to call Nyla and let her know her what’s going on. When I return to Gino’s room, Valerie is sitting in the chair, clasping her rosary. Giovanni stands over his father’s hospital bed, staring down at him pensively. I extend one of the cans of soda I got from the vending machine to him.
He speaks without acknowledging my offering. “I froze, man. I’ve never done that in my life. I don’t know what happened. When I saw him lying there I just … I couldn’t move.”
“Hey, it’s alright. It happens.”
“Not to me. I’m a cop. I’m trained to handle these kinds of things. I’ve been in shootouts and hostage situations and kept my cool. But when my own father needed me most, I just stood there watching him die.”
“Don’t do that to yourself. It’s different when it’s someone you love.”
“You didn’t freeze. You jumped right in and did what needed to be done. The only reason Pop’s alive is because of you. I owe you,” he replies, meeting my eyes.
“You don’t owe me anything. I’m glad I was there to help. You know I love your family like they were my own.”
“Yeah … yeah, I do.” He pauses thoughtfully, his brows drawing inward. There’s a battle going on inside him. I can see it. “I know you sent me the thumb drive.”
I don’t insult him by denying it. He’s a great detective. I left and a few months later the drive arrived on his desk. It didn’t take much of a leap to make the connection. “When you ran out on Nyla, I racked my brain trying to figure out why. You were crazy about her. There was no way you got cold feet. Then I got an envelope in the mail.”
“I had to protect her.” I state flatly.
He nods in understanding. “What I don’t know is how you got a hold of it and what that Michael guy has to do with it. I know he’s involved somehow. You didn’t freak out until he showed up. I started investigating him when I learned he was back and dating Nyla. I know he’s not who he says he is. I think he married her to draw you out. But I don’t know why. So, I guess my question is, is he James Hamilton or are you?”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you tonight. Mike’s my stepbrother, but there’s no love lost between us. He’s dangerous.”
“How dangerous? Are we talking verbally abusive or—"
“He murdered Angie and is trying to frame me for it.”
His brows shoot up not expecting my candor. “Angie? Angie Stapleton? He knew her?”
I pull out my phone and show him the picture of Mike in the church office with Angie. “He killed her and Sally Reed.”
“Who’s Sally Reed?”
I realize there’s no reason for him to know her. That case went down as a home invasion gone wrong. No one had any reason to link it to Vito or the Stapleton case. No one but me.
�
�She worked for the church,” I reply, drawing in a breath. This is it. Once I tell him everything, there’s no going back. I’m signing my own death warrant.
Just as I’m about to give my full confession, Nyla breezes in carrying Conner in her arms. “Hey, I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I was giving Conner a bath when you called.” With a chaste kiss to my lips, she hands off a sleeping Conner to me and makes her way over to Giovanni, wrapping him in a hug. “How’s Gino? What can we do to help?”
He manages a weak smile. “Nothing. Thanks to Memphis, he’s going to be alright.”
“Thank goodness,” Nyla replies, coming to my side and slipping an arm around my waist.
I give her a squeeze, grateful she brought Conner with her. She could have left him with Mason, but I know she brought him to give us a little more time together. “Thanks for coming, angel.”
“Of course. Where else would I be?” She gazes up at me with questioning eyes, and I know she’s wondering if I’ve told Giovanni yet.
An awkward silence fills the room. Giovanni watches us closely from across the bed, digesting the bit of information I’ve given him so far. The sound of his phone ringing breaks the tension. He glances down at the screen and holds it up. “Excuse me. I’ve got to take this. Hello?”
He takes a few strides and comes to an abrupt halt. “Whoa! Hang on. Say that again.” He spins on his heels and a look of shock spreads across his face. “Okay. I’ll be right there. Thanks. Bye.”
“Everything alright?” I ask, laying Conner on a chair.
“I have to go. Can you stay with my mom for a bit?” He motions to Valerie, who’s hunched to the side asleep, still clutching her rosary.
“Yeah, sure. What’s going on?”
“Packages filled with dirty bombs were delivered to Vito Moretti’s businesses and known associates this afternoon. They exploded and wiped out his entire crew or most of ’em anyway. After the bombings, they tried to take Moretti into protective custody and move him to an undisclosed location, but the transport van he was riding in was ambushed. He was shot and killed along with several guards.”