by F. P. Lione
The front door was open; the screen door was one of those full glass panel kind. Maybe it’s me, but I didn’t think three kids and a full glass panel storm door was a good idea.
“Daddy!” A little dark-haired boy came racing outside.
“Josh! I missed you, buddy. Give Daddy a hug. Oh, you are getting so big.” Fiore picked him up. “Josh, this is my friend Tony. He’s my partner at work.” He put the boy back down.
“Nice to meet you, Tony,” Josh said seriously as he shook my hand.
“You too, Josh,” I said.
He was a cute kid. He had big brown eyes, a bandage shaped like a crayon on his right knee, and red Kool-Aid on his shirt.
“Steven’s here,” Josh said.
“Oh yeah? You two wanna wrestle me again?” Fiore tickled him. He went into this tickle-wrestle thing with the kid, growling and acting like an idiot. I guess that’s what fathers do.
Fiore’s wife Donna came to the door holding a little baby. She was prettier in person than she was in her picture and not as chubby. She was wearing beige pants that came to just below her knees. Denise wears them too, but I forget what they’re called. She wore a long shirt that came to mid-thigh and beige open-toed shoes. Her dark hair was pulled back in one of those clips that looks like it has teeth. She wore no makeup that I could see and had short nails.
Fiore gave her a predatory look, and I wondered if coming here was a good idea. She smiled a sly smile back as he came in for a kiss. He nuzzled her neck and then scooped the baby out of her arm and started kissing it and making goo-goo noises. “Where’s my pretty girl? Give Daddy a smile!” and stuff like that. I felt uncomfortable in the middle of such a family reunion, but Fiore didn’t seem to notice.
Finally Donna said she had made coffee and asked us if we wanted breakfast.
“Please, we’re starving,” Fiore said as I started to refuse.
The small foyer was open, to the left a staircase going up, to the right a staircase going down. We walked upstairs into a bright kitchen, decorated in all light blue and white. Off to the left was a living room with a brick fireplace and picture frames of all styles and sizes. Over the mantle was a seascape painting, and the sofa was dark green leather with a matching chair and ottoman. The coffee table was covered in action figures, some standing, some laying down. A space guy had a string tied to his hand and another action figure dangled along the side of the table from it. A basket of laundry was on the couch, with a folded pile of clothes next to it.
I stepped into the kitchen, unsure what to do next. Donna filled a mug of coffee and placed it on the table.
“Tony, sit down,” she said. “Stop looking like you want to bolt out of here. Joe’s told me a lot about you. I’m glad you’re here.” She smiled.
“Thanks,” I said, sitting down.
“Joey get to camp on time?” Fiore asked.
“Just about. I got there by ten after nine,” she said.
“My oldest son, Joey, is in hockey camp,” he explained. “Donna has to drive him into Seaford every morning; it’s pretty far from here.”
I nodded.
“Michele dropped Steven off. She’s setting up for Vacation Bible School next week,” Donna said.
“Where is he?” Fiore asked.
“He’s changing—he spilled a glass of juice, and his clothes were soaked.”
A little blond-haired boy came running into the kitchen and jumped on Joe.
“Little Stevie, my man!” Fiore yelled, slapping him a high five.
“Who’s that?” the boy asked, looking at me.
“This is Tony, my partner. Shake his hand, buddy.”
“Are you a cop too?” Stevie asked, shaking my hand.
“That’s right, I work with Joe,” I said.
The kid was cute, big dark green eyes, freckles across his nose. “Do you have a gun?” he asked.
“We all have guns,” I said.
“You ever shoot anybody?” he asked seriously.
“How old are you?” I asked, chuckling.
“Four and a half. How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.” I smiled.
He nodded. “You’re almost as old as my mom. She’s thirty-three.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate you telling me that,” I said just as seriously.
“Did you ever shoot anybody?” he asked again.
“Go get Josh,” Fiore said, changing the subject. “As soon as Tony and I finish eating we’ll come and dunk you in the pool.”
“No, you won’t!” Stevie said and went clamoring down the stairs, calling for Josh.
We drank our coffee, and Donna cooked up breakfast. She made pancakes, which were delicious, with bacon on the side. I tried to help her clean off the table, but she shooed me out of the room.
We went downstairs, through a family room, and out a set of sliding glass doors to the backyard. A screened-in area had a set of lawn furniture, and there was a pool in the backyard. It wasn’t an inground pool, but it was a pretty big round one. Josh and Stevie came running outside, ready for us to go in with them. We spent the next hour in the pool, with Fiore throwing them up in the air. Then we took turns throwing them to each other while they laughed hysterically. We had worked them up into a frenzy and played monkey-in-the-middle with a Nerf ball to calm them down some. It was fun. I don’t see kids much, but I was having a good time with these two.
It was getting late, and Fiore said he had to get some sleep. Stevie seemed to take a liking to me and asked if we could play again later. I told him I wasn’t sure what I’d be doing later, but I’d try. We dried off and went back inside.
The house had three bedrooms upstairs, and the downstairs had a small bedroom off the family room, where I stayed. The room had a small bathroom with a stall shower that I could use after I woke up. I went to sleep by noon, and if Fiore’s family made any noise I never heard it. It was still light out when I woke up—my watch said 6:30.
In my two days of not drinking I found I was sleeping less but waking up rested. I jumped in the shower, hearing muted noises from upstairs. I didn’t have my razor and looked scruffy, but there was nothing I could do about it. I put on my clean shirt and my shorts that I wore to work. I followed the sounds up to the landing, where I saw a woman talking animatedly about something.
She looked tall from where I stood. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and I saw some blonde streaks running through it. She was wearing a navy blue tank top and beige walking shorts. Her legs looked great until I walked up a couple of steps and saw she was wearing men’s construction boots with thick white socks. She turned as she heard me come up, and I saw a flicker of something in a pair of big brown eyes.
I nodded to her as I entered the kitchen. Joe was sitting at the kitchen table in shorts and a white undershirt with his baby asleep on his shoulder. His wife was stirring something in a pot, and Josh, Stevie, and I guess Joey were sitting at the table talking. Joey came around and shook my hand and politely said hello.
“Coffee, Tony?” Donna asked.
“Please,” I said. “I didn’t know what to do with the towel, so I put it back over the rack.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it later.” She came to the table with two cups, indicating a place for me to sit and planting a kiss on Fiore as she put the other cup in front of him.
“Tony, this is my friend Michele, Stevie’s mom.” She turned to the kids. “Okay, you guys, go inside while the adults have their coffee.” They scampered off toward the back of the house.
I turned and shook Michele’s hand. “Hi.”
She smiled. “Hi.”
She was pretty in that Ivory soap kind of way. No makeup that I could see. I was used to women with long, fake nails and lots of war paint. She put her hands back in her pockets so I couldn’t see her nails, but my guess would be short, no polish.
“Michele is working the Vacation Bible School at our church next week, and she was just telling us about the th
eme.”
Michele seemed a little flustered by my appearance, which made me hope that no one had mentioned why I was there. I pictured Fiore’s wife whispering something like “Joe’s new partner is here—he’s suicidal, and Joe’s been staying with him so he doesn’t blow his head off.” Add paranoia to my list of psychopathologies.
Michele was saying that the Vacation Bible School theme this year was God’s promises. She said they had been working on a twenty-foot wooden ark with painted animals in it. They also had a rainbow of balloons in every color over the ark that they would unveil on the first day. Fiore and his wife were oohing and aahing over the whole thing; I just nodded and said it sounded great.
She sounded smart—I noticed she didn’t leave all the vowels off the ends of her words like most New Yorkers do. She looked at all three of us as she talked about the ark, as if I knew something about it. I remembered the story of Noah, but I’d never seen it done with a twenty-foot ark. It sounded like the kids would like it.
Eventually she said she had to get going and called for Stevie. Donna asked her to stay, but she said she had promised Stevie they would go to McDonald’s for dinner. Stevie slapped me a high five, and Michele shook my hand again as they left.
“Nice meeting you.” She smiled. Pretty eyes, but those boots had to go.
“Same here.” I smiled as I watched her go down the stairs.
“Tony, are you coming out for the baby’s dedication?” Donna asked when Michele had gone.
“Sure, thanks for asking me,” I said. I wondered how this whole dedication thing worked. Was it like a christening where you buy the kid a savings bond or give money? I didn’t know who to ask. Maybe Denise could ask her church lady friend for me and find out if I needed to wear a suit.
I was trying to figure out how much I should put in the envelope when Donna started getting ready for dinner. She put plates out and called the boys to set the table. Fiore put the baby in a swing in the dining room and wound it up real good. He faced the baby where she could see the table and came back to take out the cups and fill them with ice. He added soda to the big glasses and Kool-Aid to the small plastic ones.
Dinner was like a scene from Little House on the Prairie except that we ate macaroni and meatballs. Joe sat at the head of the table and said grace like I’d never heard. Everyone else’s head was bowed solemnly. I can’t remember exactly what he said, but he thanked the Lord for letting them have me over for dinner and thanked him for his family and for Jesus. It was a humble, heartfelt prayer, and I felt myself getting choked up. Lack of booze must have been making me emotional. After grace everyone dug in. I had to give Donna credit—she made a good gravy. She even made us meatball heros with the leftovers.
After dinner we played whiffle ball outside with Josh and Joey. Donna had cleaned up, put the baby out in a stroller with a net over it, and sat on the front steps to watch us play. We played until the sun started going down and went back inside while Donna got the kids cleaned up. When Joe went downstairs to set them up in the family room with a videotape, Donna and I sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee.
“Joe tells me he’s been telling you about the Lord,” she said.
I nodded, feeling embarrassed again.
“It’s funny—I used to feel uncomfortable when he witnessed to me. I couldn’t stand him!” She shook her head, laughing at the memory. “I was so messed up at the time, out there in the world living all wrong.” There was that “out in the world” stuff again. What world did they live in?
“I’m glad he was patient, you know?” she continued. “He saw something in me that I couldn’t. I’m glad he didn’t write me off.”
I couldn’t picture her “living wrong,” whatever that meant. I knew she was trying to tell me that she knew how I felt. Who knows, maybe she was a boozer in her old life.
“I guess he told you about me,” I said.
“He tells me everything.” She smiled. “And whatever he tells me stays here. He really likes you, Tony, and I know he’s concerned. I won’t make you uncomfortable by talking to you about it, but I want you to know that I’ve been there.”
“How?” I asked.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it someday when we have the time, but let’s just say I was at my ugliest when I met Joe.”
“How did you meet him?” I asked.
“A neighbor brought me to church one night for a service and introduced us. I had a bad attitude.” She shrugged. “Joe was so nice. I remember wondering if he’d be that nice if he knew how messed up I really was. But every week I showed up at church, back for more. I’m just thankful the Lord got hold of me and showed me the truth.”
Joe came upstairs, and the subject changed to the baby’s party. I broke down and asked how the whole thing worked.
“Do I wear a suit?” I asked.
“You don’t have to, Tony. Wear whatever you want,” Donna said.
“Wear a suit,” Fiore said. “But bring something to change into. The party’s in the yard and your suit will get too hot.”
Donna packed our sandwiches and two sodas in a paper bag, adding napkins. Josh and Joey came upstairs and shook my hand before going to bed. Donna gave me a kiss on the cheek and a big hug before I left. I could see why Fiore liked her so much—she was sweet and open and honest. From what I’ve seen with the guys at work, most men love their wives; they just don’t like them.
“Am I blessed or what?” Fiore yelled over the roar of the muffler as we drove westbound on the Long Island Expressway in his deathtrap mobile. I had lit a cigarette and was taking deep drags on it.
“You’re definitely blessed,” I yelled back. “I like your wife.”
“Me too,” he yelled.
“Does she have any sisters?”
Fiore laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re already praying for God to send you a wife.”
“A wife? How about a girlfriend?” I yelled.
“Nope, a wife is what you need.”
“Can you pray that she’s about five-four, blonde hair and—”
“To use your word, Tony, don’t be a meatball. You’ve picked enough women. Let God do it this time. Trust me, he’s never wrong. You need a praying, believing wife.”
I noticed he didn’t mention a good-looking wife.
10
On the train Joe took out a Bible for me that Donna had bought after picking Joey up from hockey camp that afternoon. It was now Thursday night—we would work tonight and Friday night, be off Saturday and Sunday, and be back to work Monday night for a midnight tour. I was a little uneasy about going home in the morning, but Joe said he would be coming home with me again. I argued with him about it, but he wouldn’t budge.
“No way, Tony. Donna and I talked about it and I’m coming home with you,” he said emphatically.
“Joe, go home to your family. They need you.”
“I know that, but one day isn’t gonna hurt them. Besides, Donna misses me when I’m gone, and not seeing each other for two days makes for a nice weekend.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I want to go to that boardwalk again. That guy in South Beach has good hot dogs.” He laughed when I groaned.
When we boarded the train, Fiore took out his Bible. We started in the first chapter of John, about how in the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. I never would have thought I would be so fascinated by the Bible. I ran my hands over the surface of my new Bible, touched that Donna had bought it for me. We read through the first chapter of John, then Joe pulled out a worn-out, soft-covered Amplified Bible. He said I should read it with my Bible, to explain the verses better.
“Keep it with you. Read it first in your Bible, then in the Amplified. I always find it easier that way. If you don’t, then just read your Bible.”
All that Bible reading went out the window the minute I got to work. I had a fight with Mike Rooney at roll call. He started with me the minute I walked into the muster room with Fiore. He had taken off the ni
ght before, so I hadn’t seen him.
“What’s the matter, you were too sick to come to the game yesterday?” he bellowed from across the room. “Were you puking too much?”
Nervous chuckles could be heard throughout the room. I ignored him as I drank the coffee Fiore gave me.
“So what was it, Tony?” Rooney continued. “Too many meatballs? Too tired? Tell me what was so important that you left us with only nine guys for the playoffs?” He strutted over toward me.
“It’s none of your business,” I said, my voice deadly.
“None of my business? You make us lose the playoffs ’cause you don’t show up, and it’s none of my business?” he yelled, charging at me.
“I had something I had to take care of,” I said, putting down my coffee. “You got a problem with that?”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to him, Tony,” Fiore said quietly.
“Oh, so now Fiore’s fighting your battles for you?”
Whatever he was going to say next died on his lips as I ran at him and put him up against the wall. He was taller by about three inches and outweighed me by thirty pounds, but I was strong and I was mad. Papers flew from the corkboard on the wall as he smashed into it. I heard the oomph as his back connected to the cement.
“Cut it out, Mike!” O’Brien yelled to Rooney as he pulled us apart. “He made every game this season.”
“Not the most important game of the season!” Rooney spat. “You know what, Tony? Don’t bother coming back next year—we don’t need you playing for us.”
“You don’t know when to shut your mouth, Mike,” Fiore said quietly but with intensity.
“You got a problem too, Joe?” Mike turned toward Fiore.
“Shut up, Mike,” O’Brien said, still holding him.
Fiore had me by the arm. We had knocked over a garbage pail and one of the cork bulletin boards was hanging from one side, spilling paper and notices onto the floor. Rooney and I kept eyeing each other, breathing heavily, when the sarge called attention to the roll call. We took our places without another word. The sarge didn’t comment on what was going on. Rooney was seething throughout roll call and kept throwing looks at me. I stared him down each time until he looked away. There were no jokes tonight, and we filed out without talking.