by Saurav Dutt
John swung the door open, letting the Officers stride in as he turned to face her. Her expression was sombre, her breathing shallow and he could see the beads of sweat trickling down her forehead as she leaned back into the wall. “Is this true?” John grimaced “all this crap..is this true? Who the hell are you, you’re Dennis Rossi’s fucking wife?”
Before she could answer, John noticed her left hand twitching. At first it indicated nothing more than a slight tremble, only to begin to violently shake as if in the throes of some kind of self induced seizure. Her chest heaved in and out as she began to breathe heavily; leaning up against the wall as she put her hands to her head and massaged her temple as she let out a groan of pain.
“What’s wrong?” John cried as he rushed towards her, flanked by both officers as she began to slowly sink towards the floor, the skin of her face becoming paler by the second.
“I…I don’t…know…” she gasped as her eyes flickered “don’t let them take me away..”
John steadied her, embracing her firmly within his arms as he glared up at Officers Pearce and Diaz, kissing her gently on her forehead which was now sweating profusely as her breathing became increasingly shallow “I won’t…I’ll be here for you” he nodded.
She smiled, her eyes flickering as she clung onto him. As John attempted rouse her, her head slowly sank into his chest. Quiet whimpers escaped from her mouth, and suddenly her pulse began to settle down to a dull murmur.
“Call for a paramedic” John glared up at Officer Pearce “I think she’s having a heart attack, some kind of seizure..I don’t know what the hell it is, do something, don’t just stand there goddamn it’ he cried. Pearce nudged Diaz as he stared down at the suitcases, thumbing the pair of handcuffs he was clutching in his palm. “Dennis Rossi?” John shook his head as he looked up at Pearce “are you shitting me Officer?”
“I wish I was Detective” Officer Pearce sighed as he snapped open the handcuffs “I wish I was-Diaz get onto the paramedics”
“You can’t arrest me” John protested as Diaz spoke into his walkie talkie as she began to lose consciousness.
“Sorry Detective” Pearce shrugged “you’re in a world of shit, whether you know her not, she’s the last person you had wish you’d met”
Chapter Eight
The phone rang and rang. Andie stared at the receiver but continued to ignore it. The fizz of the water shooting from the kitchen sink tap slowed to a few drips as Andie turned her head to glare at the receiver set which had been ringing now for at least five minutes after four repeated tries. “Would you get that for me Peter?” she sighed with resignation as she closed the tap and took a swig from the carton of orange juice standing atop the counter.
Peter gently put down his cereal spoon at the breakfast table and ambled over to the telephone, nestling it carefully against his chin like he had seen his mother do time and time again.
“Hello?” he enquired as he noticed his mother had now taken his vacant seat. His eyelids drooped as he listened impatiently to the voice on the other side. After a moment or two he forked the receiver towards the direction of his mother. “It’s for you Mom” he blurted out. “Did you ask who it was?” Andie frowned as she bit down on her nails. “Some warden man, he keeps saying” Peter mumbled as she rose promptly to her feet and took the receiver from his hands.
“Morning, this is Warden Sheen from Rikers Island” muttered a raspy voice on the other end. “I thought as much” Andie retorted “I was going to call you…I didn’t get a cheque for the last month..I was wondering what was going on”
“Well it’s sort of concerning that..too..but um..” Warden Sheen stammered “but it’s more about your father”
“Well what about him?” Andie grumbled as she signalled for Peter to continue with his breakfast.
“Well, he’s going to be up for parole this month..” Sheen replied “..and well he wants to see you”
“Is this about the cheque?” Andie shot back “because the last time I saw him was almost five years ago, and that was too soon..his lawyer assured me that-”
“-He’s most insistent....” Sheen interrupted “I see you’re not living at the address we have for you on our files..I called the number and your husband said you don’t live there anymore, he gave me this number. Where are you living now?” he enquired.
“Manhattan” Andie mumbled “I can update you with the new address; I’m not living with my husband anymore at that previous address”
“Oh” Sheen paused “well Rikers isn’t too far at all, why don’t I come and give you a lift here?”
“I can drive. I am perfectly capable of coming there myself, but I don’t see any point” Andie sighed.
“Well I would have tried to contact your mother; do you know where she is now?” Sheen asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine, the last time I saw her was at the court trial” Andie replied, fidgeting with the strands of her hair.
“I’d like to get hold of her” Sheen said “you wouldn’t know where she is now would you?”
“No I wouldn’t…” Andie replied “I haven’t seen her since the trial…..not that I care” she added with finality “look I’m not comfortable with this Warden, I don’t really want to see him..I have nothing to say to him…monthly cheques for upkeep were promised by his lawyer as my father promised and as far as I’m concerned that was the only obligation I have to him”
“Well the upshot of it” Sheen cleared his throat “is that if you don’t come to see him this time, he will stop sending those cheques”
“Fine. Tell him I’ll be there sometime in the afternoon” Andie grumbled “I have to drop my son to school and then I’ll make my way, I can bring my lawyer too if that’s what’s needed” she added as she slammed the receiver down, uninterested in what Sheen had to say in response. She felt a chill run down her spine, angry to see a man she so loathed yet was still fearful of.
“Who was that Mom?” Peter asked with curiosity, studying the concerned expression that had clouded his mother’s face.
“Oh it’s nothing” Andie replied, forcing a smile “now come on honey, let’s get you going before you get late”
*
Andie’s journey began on Queens Plaza South, the trash-strewn strip lined with fast-food joints, pawnshops, and after-hours clubs, where the pay phones were either out of order or so grimy they were disgusting to the touch. Half an hour later, she was travelling over the Francis R. Buono Memorial Bridge, a two-lane ribbon of highway separating the land of the free from the land of the imprisoned. Her father, Dennis, told her as a child it was "the longest bridge in the world" taking "just minutes to cross over, but an eternity to cross back." He hadn’t considered he would be spending the rest of his life there. Known for internment for suspects or short term custodial sentences, Dennis Rossi had stayed there indefinitely. Notorious. Despicable. Callous. Calculating. These were some of the words Andie grew up hearing her father described as. Once a father, now an afterthought.
As she approached the entrance to the bridge she saw looming there above her the intimidating billboard: CITY OF NEW YORK--CORRECTION DEPARTMENT, RIKERS ISLAND--THE BOLDEST CORRECTION OFFICERS IN THE WORLD.
She glanced behind her momentarily, seeing the dazzling Manhattan skyline escape into the distance. White caps rippled the expanse of water below. There ahead sprawled the massive, low-lying detention complex ringed by coils of razor wire and a lethal electric fence.
Within a half hour, after meeting Warden Sheen and taking the route bus to the designated jail, a bullet-proof door sealed shut behind her while an X-ray machine scanned her head to toe for metal objects. The smell of strong disinfectant was overpowering as Andie moved through the narrow hallway inside the nondescript grey coffin like interior of the room. She moved toward a desk where she flashed her ID badge one more time.
Warden Sheen was short, puffy faced, with a receding silver hairline but with warm twinkling eyes and a raspy voice that had b
een burned to a crisp by too many cigarettes. “When was the last time you were here?” he asked as they made their way down another dimly lit corridor.
The silence was deafening and he could sense her trepidation as she walked slightly behind him, her eyes focused ahead towards the end of the hallway towards a steel door where she knew her father resided.
“Five years ago, I think you know that” Andie replied “I haven’t found a reason to come back to see him until today”
“He talks about you often” Sheen replied “he does, honestly..he has a picture of you with your husband, your wedding day I believe” he commented as he waved at a tall security guard who was approaching them.
“Well that was before I knew what he really was” Andie sighed, wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead, aware of a knot forming deep within her stomach as her heart began to pound.
“I think they will transfer him now” Sheen observed as he shook the guard’s hand and nodded towards Andie “he has some things to say to you; believe me he knows full well how you feel about him and wanted to avoid this if he could, but this couldn’t be helped.”
Andie entered the spacious but faintly lit room. The door was shut behind her with a guard peering through a window framed shutter while Sheen waited outside. The room had a towering ceiling, the amber flickering of a tube light above throwing itself upon a table clamped down in the middle of the room. Dennis Rossi sat there, one arm handcuffed to his chair which was reinforced with steel so that it could not move a millimetre from where he sat. Only a polystyrene cup with shimmering Mineral water stood before them. He sat there head bowed as if he were sleeping.
“You didn’t send me and Peter our monthly cheque” Andie hissed as she stood before him “what’s the matter? Not been able to shift enough cocaine this month?”
He raised his head and smiled weakly: large, bloodshot eyes offset his wrinkly oval-shaped face. He looked trim, his five foot nine frame adorned with faded tattoos, and his chin peppered with dabs of grey. His skin looked parched, his grin as wide as a shark. He wore a Yankees cap, khaki pants, and a dirty denim jacket. He had lost a great deal of his silver mane of hair. He looked exhausted and old.
“Oh baby..” he intoned in voice gruffer than she remembered “you look beautiful, where’s Peter, did you bring him?”
“Shouldn’t you be in some kind of uniform or something?” Andie frowned.
“You look absolutely beautiful honey, you ain’t aged a bit..you’re still the best looking Rossi in the family…anyway you know how it is honey” Dennis smiled “about the jacket, whatever Mr Rossi wants Mr Rossi gets, inside the joint or outside..”
“Dad” Andie sighed “I didn’t come here to listen to your bullshit; I heard enough during the trial…what is it you wanted to say that involved dragging me all the way out here? What happened to the money you promised?”
“You take after your mother” Dennis replied as he studied his daughter from head to foot as he reclined back in his seat “just like her, I would always need an incentive to get you to do something whether you were eight or fifteen or a grown woman..in this case money is always the biggest motivation of all”
“I’m nothing like her” Andie spat as she sat down to face him “but that would be your style wouldn’t it…$1,500 a month for the upkeep of me and my family that’s what you promised..now I need that cheque, we’ve just moved house and there’s lots of bills, lots of stuff that needs doing, other things going on”
“You moved?” Dennis interjected “so all my letters I’ve been sending-what happened to those?”
“I never read them anyway” Andie shot back “Sean would post me the cheque and that would be that”
“Post it?” Dennis enquired as he looked into her eyes, cold and lifeless just as his were.
“We’re going to get a divorce” Andie sighed as she broke his unnerving gaze “Petey’s staying with me until we sort it out”
“I’m sorry to hear that” Dennis shook his head “I’ll get my people to send you the money as quickly as possible”
“Ok thanks” Andie nodded as she rose to leave “now I gotta go, I-”
“-Wait a minute” Dennis interrupted “I know part of you came here because you were curious, it wasn’t easy pulling strings to get a message to you”
“Why is it that I don’t believe you?” Andie smirked “a bribe here, a backhander there, what else would change?”
“I sent you to the best private schools” Dennis blurted “the best of everything for my daughter, all those nice houses you’ve lived in, all because I looked after you, you and your mother were-”
“-shut up about her” Andie scowled “don’t give me that crap, people buy things out of love not because they need to spend some drug and gun money on something so the authorities can’t trace it..”
“Baby” Dennis pleaded “I didn’t do nothin’ but look out for my family, the only way I knew how..I don’t mind that I’m here but I can’t stand it knowing my only daughter hates my guts”
“I can’t love..” Andie paused as she fought back a tear “a cold blooded murderer….”
Dennis stared down at the table, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he let out a deep sigh. Andie stared at him for a moment, shaking her head as she turned to leave.
“I’m up for parole in about two weeks….” Dennis mumbled as he looked up, his eyes misting over as he choked on his words “I..I would like…you..to speak for me at the hearing…to help me…get out”
“Speak for you?” Andie scoffed “what you mean like some sort of character reference? What am I supposed to say exactly? That my father is a drug dealing, gun smuggling mobster who was arrested for money laundering and killing children by distributing crack? But other than that he’s a really nice guy, folks..what do you want me to tell them, that you’re lucky you’re not burning in hell for the people you’ve killed or that they just can’t prove you killed more than you actually did?”
“You’d rather I rot here and die then, is that it?” Dennis shook his head, looking away in disgust.
“I’d rather you get what you deserve” Andie replied “for the person you are..” she hissed as she began to walk away.
“That’s not the only reason I’m asking you” Dennis boomed, halting her in her tracks as she turned to face him “…I’m dyin’ …” he paused “..I have lung cancer so they tell me, ain’t that a bitch? Cancer of all freakin’ things…so they say I’m not gonna make it..they got in one doc, I laughed in his face, told him to go fuck himself…so I got another, and he said the same thing…so I got my own guy, private this private that, and he said the same thing…I’m horsemeat…maybe six months tops, maybe a bit more..this whole thing is…just so I can be out there with my family…instead of dying in here..” he whispered as a tear glistened in his eye.
Andie stood there, feeling the silence engulf her, hitting her like a cold gust of arctic chill. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even open her lips. Her mind was blank, emotionless, her heart blackened and dismayed by the figure she saw before him. She wanted to cry but stopped herself.
“Listen to me carefully..your mother is in New York somewhere” Dennis swallowed hard “my people are trying to find her..y’know I never told any of y’all this…but my old man he died alone..he was a good man, hard working man…I was out peddling something or the other when I shoulda been with him..and he died alone, suffering, crying..callin’ out my mother’s name, mine too..but he lay there rotting in a hospital in pain…I don’t wanna go out the same way, honey. You have to find her Andie, bring her to me…I want you both here before I go, I want-”
“-she left me..” Andie replied, her voice cracking “you went to prison and she left me…you know that..I don’t want to see her..I don’t care about her..I don’t want to be with her.”
“Please…do it for me” Dennis pleaded, a tear running down his cheek as he gazed up towards the ceiling.
“If you want me at your parole hea
ring” Andie replied “I’ll do it for you…but I won’t find her, I won’t…if I hate someone for what they did to me more than you, it’s her…”
She stared through the opaque pane of glass on the door into the eyes of the security guard, fighting back a tear as she nodded at him to open the door. She could hear stifled sobs from behind her and a muffled “Thank you” but she daren’t turn around to see his face. Not now.
**
Sean ran his finger around the rim of the beer glass, and glanced impatiently at his watch; realising Andie was over half an hour late. Flicking the remote he sat back in his couch and stared around the expanse of his hotel room, his eye catching the small photo frame he had balanced against the alarm clock by his bed. It was a photograph taken on Peter’s first birthday, the joy in all three of their faces potent and their smiles gleaming. He almost failed to notice the rapping at the door as he stared longingly at his son’s face.
Rising to his feet he walked over to the door and opened it just as Andie was about to deliver another knock. She looked flustered, deep bags under her eyes and the condition of her mascara belied the expression on her face. It was obvious she had been crying.
“I thought you’d have brought Peter with you” Sean remarked as he looked around the hallway, motioning for her to enter as she wiped away her tears. “Ben is minding him” Andie cleared her throat “anyway it’s almost eight, he should be going to sleep soon”
“You know he never really sleeps until someone tells him a story or keeps him company” Sean answered, closing the door “and I doubt Ben is quite as good as you or me”
She was distracted, her eyes glued to the floor and her hands slumped in her pockets as she began circling the room, slowing shaking her head as she muttered under her breath.
“What do you want to drink?” Sean asked as he walked over to the couch and picked up his beer, taking a sip from it as he used the remote to subdue the volume of the television set. “I can’t, I’m driving” Andie answered as she gazed out of the window.