by Cora Brent
I wanted him, even now. I probably always would.
As soon as there was a break between innings I switched off the game. The flat, emotionless horizon stared me in the face and dared me to keep driving.
Since it was possible to disappear into the rural bowels of the United States without anyone being the wiser, I figured I should make a phone call to let someone know where I was. I ignored the sudden, powerful urge to talk to Easton and instead I called Rocco.
“What?” he said in disbelief. I could hear the clanging noise of the auto shop in the background. “You’re where?”
“Texas.”
“Oh. Why?”
“I’m coming home.”
Rocco didn’t ask for how long. He didn’t ask why. He just let out a low whistle.
“I think I’ll make it there in about three days,” I told him. “How’s Anya?”
“She’s home. There’s a nurse who comes and stays for several hours a day because her breathing is so erratic.” He lowered his voice and I wondered if it was because Easton was nearby. “She’s fading quick, Claud. You’ll be shocked.”
The news was not welcome. My chest tightened.
It was Monday morning rush hour when I reached the New York metropolitan area. Once I got through the city, the traffic going east was pretty light. Most people were leaving Long Island for the day and heading into Manhattan. I was going the other way.
The poignancy of the moment hit me as soon as I turned down Carver, the street I’d grown up on. I was twenty-nine years old and everything I owned was stuffed into a Honda CR-V.
“You think you’ll ever move back here?”
Anya had asked me that one Christmas day, years ago. At the time I’d just figured she was making casual conversation. Now I understood the reason was probably much more earnest. I wished I’d paid more attention.
The house was quiet when I walked up the path. I knocked on the front door, feeling strangely detached. The wind rustled the young leaves of the front yard maple tree and I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for an answer.
I heard a series of small thumps and then the door was opened by my sister. Allison grinned at me. She was gorgeous, a charming five-year-old version of her mother.
“Who are you?” she asked, smiling.
I bent down in front of her, playing along with the joke. “I’m selling vacuum cleaners. Would you like to buy one?”
Allie laughed and held out her arms.
“Claudia,” she squealed with delight and I swept her up in a tight hug.
“Allie, you know not to open the door until I see who-“
Jack’s voice died the instant he saw us together.
“Look! My sister is here!” Allison cried.
I put her down and gave her a little nudge through the door. Then I straightened up and looked my father in the eye. “Hi, Jack.”
He stared past me. “That your car?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Looks pretty packed.”
“Yes, it does.”
Jack’s eyes shifted back to my face. He stood there and stared at me as if I were something supernatural, an imaginary apparition. Given how haggard his face was, how red his eyes were, he might not have trusted his own sight.
“I guess Rocco can keep a secret after all,” I said, trying to break the tension.
Jack frowned. “Rocco knew you were coming? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Payback.”
He was confused. “What?”
“You drove cross country to surprise me once. I thought I’d return the favor.”
That made him smile a little and I caught a glimpse of the rascally man who had knocked on my dorm room door a decade ago, probably hoping that I would be happy to see him for once.
He noticed Allie standing nearby, watching us with fascination.
“Go get your backpack for school,” he told her, giving her head an affectionate pat. “Mrs. Gucci will be here any minute.”
Allie paused, glancing back at me. “Claudia? Will you still be here when I get home?”
“I’ll still be here,” I told her, watching our father.
The carpool for kindergarten showed up less than a minute later. Jack and I stood in the front yard together and raised our hands as Allison excitedly waved from the backseat of the minivan.
Neither of us spoke as we watched the vehicle turn the corner.
“How is she?” I asked.
Jack rubbed his eyes. “It was the pneumonia. She hasn’t been able to bounce back from it. Claudia, her body is forgetting how to breathe.”
“Shouldn’t she still be in the hospital then?”
He shook his head. “She has a ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ order. She refused to stay there.” His voiced lowered to nearly a whisper. “Last few days, she can’t even talk. With her mother, the mind was gone long before she took her last breath. But Anya, her body’s giving up too fast. She knows everything.”
“I’m sorry,” I said miserably because I couldn’t think of any other words.
Jack sank down onto the two concrete steps that led to the front door. He motioned for me to join him.
“She’s sleeping now,” he said, staring out at the overgrown grass in the front yard. “She sleeps most of the day.”
“How’s Allie handling it?”
A faint smile crossed his face. “Allie’s five. She won’t really understand the loss until it happens.”
“Is Allie…” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. I had never found a way to ask it before.
“No,” he said loudly. He looked at me with defiance and shook his head. “No. We had her tested when she was a baby.”
“Thank god,” I breathed.
Jack’s gaze had shifted to my car. “Looks like you’re planning on staying awhile.”
“I am. As long as you need me.”
He was thoughtful. “You have your own life, Claudia. You couldn’t wait to get out of here and start it.”
“I know.”
We sat side by side in silence, wondering how to talk to each other.
“Look at that.” Jack pointed to the yard. “Grass looks like shit. Carmine would be so pissed.” He lowered his hand and nodded to himself. “I always wished you’d come back.”
Tentatively I reached out and touched my father’s strong shoulder.
“I’m here now, Daddy.”
I probably hadn’t called him that since I was Allie’s age. I always called him Jack and it bothered him. I knew it did. I kept my hand helplessly on his shoulder while he lowered his head and cried. There was no telling how long we’d been sitting there in front of the house when a shadow made me look up.
Easton Malone stood there not ten feet away. He was still young, only twenty-five, but there was a kind of rugged maturity on his face now. He hadn’t shaved in at least a few days and he was dressed sloppily in old jeans and a torn t-shirt with the name of the Giordano Auto Shop on it. Somewhere along the way he’d gotten some ink on both his arms, those tribal-type tattoos that wound around the skin in stark and angry patterns. He was beautiful.
Our eyes locked and his face broke into a surprised grin.
“You’re home,” he said, although he made no move to come closer.
I stood up. Jack stood up next to me.
“Yes. I’m home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
EASTON
Getty had been the one to notice the grass. He’d passed a tired comment last night about going over there and dragging Jack’s lawnmower out of the backyard shed to get it done. It was such a small thing, trivial really. But these days there wasn’t much that could be offered in the way of help so it seemed like we ought to grasp at those small things.
“I’ll do it,” I told him and suddenly I had to do it.
I had to do it because I remembered the day that Jack Giordano had driven past as I struggled with a decrepit yard tool and made a neighborly offer. It was the day Jack and Anya began.
Getty didn’t put up an argument over who would get to cut Jack’s grass. He nodded and told me to remember to put the trash by the curb before he headed out for a gig singing at a twenty year high school reunion in Syosset. Getty was all right as roommates went but we’d never been great buddies. Jack had asked if I wanted to move into his house but the awful truth was I wouldn’t be able to stand being there all the time with my sister struggling to live another day and Jack struggling to watch her. All the while my little niece Allison was chirping her endless five-year-old demands because a dying mother and a grieving father had just become typical to her. It was enough to crack even the hardest heart.
I always stopped by Jack and Anya’s house after I finished a long day at the shop. Sometimes I dropped by in the morning before work too. Rocco was pleased with the job I was doing, complaining that Getty had only ever averaged around two brake jobs a day. He really needed the help and I was happy to be useful; Jack only made it into work a few hours every afternoon, when the nurse was around to sit with Anya.
My sister still managed to be lovely even as she fought for just a little more life. She was thin and the shine had left her blonde hair. But nothing had been able to touch the simple beauty of her face. The last month had been especially difficult as she lost the ability to walk and, within the last few days, to speak. She knew I was there so I would sit beside her for a while and tell her how my arm was getting stronger and I should be able to return to the major leagues next season. It wasn’t true. But it was what she would want to hear so I said it.
When I first moved back last fall I would head down to the high school field where I’d once been king and throw a bag of balls at the chain link backstop, just like I used to. My aim was off, my power weakened. Physical therapy had only done so much. There would never again be a ninety-mile-an-hour pitch coming from my hand and I was learning to be okay with that. I’d had a day in the sun. A few of them actually. That was a whole lot more than most people got.
Speaking of the sun…
It was sitting on Jack Giordano’s front stoop when I walked down the block in the morning to do something about the grass.
The sight of Claudia was still enough to strike me dumb but I was able to be cool about it now. Too much had happened. We’d started off wrong and when it seemed like things were finally going to be right I fucked it up. With all the sadness and confusion there was nothing left but a distant kind of friendship. These days whenever we saw each other we were painfully polite. Nothing more. It wasn’t enough, but what could you do? No matter how many times I kissed her, fucked her, loved her, it would never be enough, not for me. If I’d told her that two years ago it might have made a difference.
“You’re home,” I said, stopping dead with surprise.
Claudia smiled at me and my bruised heart fractured a thousand more times. I would never want another woman the way I wanted her.
“I’m home.” She stood up. Jack stood up next to her. He looked like shit. He looked like what he was; a man who was watching the love of his life cruelly fade away.
Jack checked his watch. “Anya’s asleep. Aren’t you supposed to be down at the shop?”
“Yeah, I’ll get down there in a little bit. Just wanted to stop here and offer my landscaping services first.” I spoke to Jack but I was staring at Claudia. I couldn’t help it.
“All right,” Jack shrugged. “If you’re willing, the mower’s in the shed.”
“I know. Shouldn’t take me more than fifteen minutes. Will it bother Anya?”
“Nah, the bedroom’s in the back of the house. Just keep it in the front yard.”
My heart was doing all kinds of crazy things as I went to the shed to drag the mower out. Obviously Claudia was here because things were getting so dire with Anya. When I returned to the front yard Jack was talking to Claudia and pointing to a small SUV parked by the curb. The thing was practically overflowing with crap. It looked like the vehicle of a homeless person.
“I’ll get to it later,” she told Jack. “Don’t worry.” Then she patted him gently on the arm. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week. Go get some rest.”
Jack didn’t argue with her. He tiredly retreated into the house.
I pushed the mower out to the middle of the front lawn while Claudia stood there by the door with her head bent.
“I hate this,” she said and I got the feeling she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
“That all your stuff?” I asked, pointing to the bursting car.
Claudia snapped to attention and blinked. “It is. That’s very literally all my stuff.”
“So you’re staying for a while?”
“For a while. For good. For as long as the family needs me.” She paused and made a face. “I should have done it months ago.”
“I’m glad you’re here now.” I was trying to sound heartfelt, sincere. And not at all like I was picturing her naked because given the somber moment we were having that would have been a really shitty thing to do.
Claudia didn’t notice there was anything amiss though. She smiled. “How are you, Easton?”
“I’ve been better,” I said seriously, staring at the front door of Jack and Anya’s little house. “This is hell, Claudia.”
She stepped forward like she was going to reach out to me but then stopped. “I know it is.”
“She’ll be glad you’re here. Doctors are sure she knows what’s going on even if she can’t always respond.”
Claudia sighed and crossed her arms over her chest as a spring breeze ruffled the waves of her long brown hair and carried the scent of vanilla over to me.
“Was it like this this with your mother?”
“No.” I shook my head. “She took longer, but died worse. Ah dammit, I guess there’s no good way to die, is there? She didn’t even recognize me at the end.”
“Easton,” she whispered. “I never asked before. I’m sorry.”
The topic was miserable and we both stood there in Jack’s front yard, staring unhappily at the stupid overgrown grass. I wanted to take her in my arms and lose myself in her forever.
“You want some help?” I jerked my head back to her overstuffed car. “I’ll get you unloaded as soon as I’m done here.”
Another woman would have graciously accepted but Claudia always had to think about things first. She didn’t like receiving help. We were alike in that way.
“That’d be great,” she finally said. “All these days on the road left my shoulders kind of stiff.”
I’ll give you something stiff.
Jesus. Even in the midst of grief I was like a fucking teenager with a throbbing boner again.
“No problem. I’ll get everything carried in as soon as I’m done here.”
It was still morning and the sun hadn’t really heated things up yet. There was no reason to take off my shirt in order to spend ten lousy minutes mowing the tiny lawn. Claudia’s eyes flickered down my bare chest before she blushed and turned back to the house. I would have given every dollar in my bank account to know what she was thinking about. Or remembering.
I got the lawn done in short order. Claudia must have been watching from the window because she came out of the house the minute I finished with the mower. I could have put my shirt back on. I really should have put it back on. But I knew she was looking me up and down despite her best efforts.
Claudia had a lot of clothes and a big box of something that felt like bricks but I got it all up the stairs. I dropped the last box in the middle of the floor and looked around. I’d stayed in that room before. It had once belonged to Rocco and Getty and now languished as kind of a permanent guest quarters. It was small and dark and I stood there sweating under the shallow sloped ceiling, instantly recalling the times I’d stripped Claudia’s clothes off off right there and buried myself inside her atop one of the narrow twin beds. Those were nice memories.
“Thanks for the help,” she said rather sharply and I turned around. I hadn’t
even heard her climbing the stairs but she was standing there, eyeing me like she knew my thoughts and didn’t approve.
“No problem,” I answered mildly as if I had nothing dirty on my mind at all. Goddammit, she turned me inside out.
Claudia turned around without saying anything else and went back down the stairs. I’d shoved my shirt into my back pocket and let it hang down while I was outside so it was now littered with specks of freshly mown grass. I felt kind of ridiculous for running around the house bare-chested though so I yanked it back on before I headed downstairs.
The kitchen was empty. I heard voices coming from the master bedroom and found Claudia standing in the doorway. She was holding onto the frame of the door like she needed its support while she observed the scene inside the room.
Anya had grown so thin. Her muscles had already begun to atrophy from lack of use. I’d been here yesterday when the nurse was around and she said Anya was breathing easier than she had been but patients who were bedridden were always at greater risk of infection and relapse.
Jack was kneeling at the side of the bed. He was talking to my sister as if they were alone in the room, telling her all about how sweet Allie had been that morning as she ate her cornflakes and asked if the family of doves that lived in the backyard weeping willow tree last summer would be returning. Jack was doing his best to give Anya a glimpse into the life she didn’t get to witness anymore.
Claudia turned around when she heard me at her back. The wounded look on her face etched a hole in my heart. It was almost as deep as the one that had been carved long ago, ever since I realized that Anya was doomed.
I joined Claudia in the doorway and we watched as Jack gave his wife the most tender of kisses before tucking the soft quilt around her shoulders. He checked that the adjustable bed was set at an acceptable angle and finally noticed that we were standing there.
“Jack,” I said in the kindest voice I could manage, “you really need to get some sleep, buddy.”