“Family, mio angelo. Can’t quit family.” That was a Vincent quote.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter as twenty–three years of memories ran in fast-forward through my mind. They went back even further than that, back to my English class: the giggles, the looks, and my inability to talk. Our dreams were for forever. Though our marriage hadn’t lasted, our love still prevailed. It was different now, a respect and adoration, an understanding for each other’s accomplishments and sacrifices.
The phone call I’d received earlier played on repeat, becoming the soundtrack to the vision of memories. Like a sad song, its melody was melancholy.
I pushed the damn button on the gate, my car no longer having the ability to open it and access the house in Rye. With each second I waited for a voice, my gut churned with what I would find.
“Hello.”
I recognized the voice. “Silvia, it’s Oren.”
With her finger on the button I could hear the echoes from within. “Why the hell is he here?” Lennox barked.
“Angelina called him, Lennox. Shut up... Come on in,” she said the last part to me as the gate moved to the side.
My son was now graduated from NYU and almost done with his master’s degree. He was also taking more of a role at Demetri Enterprises. It seemed that through the years we’d worked out a compartmentalization of sorts.
We could coexist within the walls and confines of Demetri Enterprises. We could discuss deals and any issues that arose. We could even spend hours hashing out contracts and proposals. He was gifted in more than numbers. Lennox had the ability to decipher the fine print.
I probably never told him that, but it was true.
I also never told him that I liked having the second set of eyes. That didn’t mean we didn’t have arguments. We did. From my perspective, at first, I had difficulty relinquishing even a small part of my control, but now that we’d been doing it, we’d found our system.
That coexistence never had, and obviously didn’t now, extend to our personal life. My son was dating someone. I’d met her briefly a time or two. A nice girl from the Midwest, they’d met at NYU. It was nearly impossible for me to think of him as old enough for that kind of relationship, yet he was. Jocelyn seemed smitten yet a little too quiet for my taste. I didn’t see the spirit and spitfire of his mother in her. The forza—the strength.
It was true that the woman I’d been seeing for nearly five years was also different from Angelina in that regard. However, my current love’s story was complicated as was our relationship. Her strength and fire simmered deep inside her, a flame that despite life’s expectations and without anyone’s assistance she’d managed to keep burning. Over the years I’d watched that flame grow, fascinated by her determination regardless of the hurdles set before her.
Now it was time to think about my first love and the obstacle she was facing. By my son’s voice, it was painfully obvious that I was an outsider in his eyes. Yet our division of personal and business didn’t apply. Angelina had called me. I couldn’t refuse.
Bringing my car to a stop near the front door, I looked down at my hands and willed my expression to hide the turmoil raging within. No matter our past decisions, the woman inside the house was my family.
We don’t quit family.
The front door opened, and Silvia stood just within the archway. Her expression was solemn, yet her dark eyes hinted that I had my own obstacle waiting. “Mr. Demetri.”
“Silvia.” I’d given up trying to get her to call me Oren again. It was easier to fight battles I could win. I stepped inside. “Where is she?”
“In the kitchen.”
Lennox came closer, his presence growing as if he could loom over me and push me back outside. Silvia’s hand came to his chest. “Stop. Don’t do this in front of Mother.”
“I don’t understand why you’re here,” he said, his voice a low rumbling growl.
“Because she called me.”
“Maybe if you would have come when she called before—”
“Stop,” Silvia commanded again.
Turning, I saw Jocelyn in the sitting room, keeping her distance from the family dramatics. “Hello,” I called.
“Hello, Mr. Demetri.”
I’d told her to call me Oren too, but right now, I didn’t care about anyone except Angelina. Each step through the house that had once been my home, each step toward the kitchen was harder than the last. As if the bleached wood had changed to a murky bog, my footsteps took will and determination. Turning the final corner, I saw Angelina, standing near the stove, waiting on something from the microwave. She appeared tired but beautiful. The epitome of my life’s desires and goals embodied in one person.
She turned my way. “Oren, I’m having a cup of coffee. Do you want one?”
“Mom.” Lennox pushed past me, being only a step behind. “We can get that for you.”
“Nonsense.”
“Mio angelo,” I said in response.
The view beyond the windows sparkled with the sinking evening sun. The Long Island Sound glittered like diamonds as the trees of orange, yellow, and red swayed in the autumn breeze.
“Angelina, I can get you whatever you need,” Silvia said.
Everyone with the exception of Jocelyn had followed me into the room. I looked again to the panoramic view, unable to look at Angelina to see her as she was and not see her as she had always been.
“Lennox,” Angelina said, “do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Take Silvia and Jocelyn and go get dinner.”
“No,” both Lennox and Silvia said together.
“Go. I’m fine. Besides, I want to talk to your father.”
Lennox’s light-blue glare shifted my way before he turned back to his mother. “We can get you something?”
“Fine, bring me back something you think I’ll like.”
“I’ll stay here,” Silvia volunteered. “I’ll go somewhere else, so you two can talk. Lennox, pick me up something too.”
Angelina’s smile caused her cheeks to rise as her nose scrunched. “I want you all to leave. I wasn’t really asking.”
“Fine.” They both agreed begrudgingly as they each offered Angelina a kiss on her cheek and slowly stepped away, leaving us alone.
As Angelina reached for the warm cup of coffee, she turned my way. “Please,” she said as she came closer, placing the cup on the table. “Don’t look at me that way.”
I couldn’t stop the tears as I took her in. Stoically, I squared my shoulders and swallowed the pain. “What way would that be?”
“Like I’m going to die.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. One step, maybe two, and she was in my arms, her soft body against mine. I can’t be sure how long we stood there, but as we did our shoulders shuddered, and we both released the emotion I’d assume she’d been trying to keep from the children. When she finally took a step back, I spoke.
“I’m not looking at you like that.”
“Right.” She reached for a box of tissues and set it on the table, taking one and dabbing the tears from her cheeks. “Then tell me how you see me.”
“It would take a lifetime to tell you that.”
She motioned toward the table and we sat, never looking away from one another.
Inflammatory breast cancer, stage four. No signs until there were. Fueled by hormones, it’s most common in women entering menopause but can happen at any age. A double mastectomy was an option, but according to what she’d told me on the phone, the cancer had already metastasized. The doctors were doing more tests to find out what could be done—if anything.
I reached for her hand. “Let me tell you.” I forced a smile. “I see you as a young student, as a bride, and as a new mother. In your eyes, I see years of happiness and too much sadness. I see all that you have been and all there’s yet to do. I see a fighter, someone who will fight and beat this disease.”
She’d managed to suppress her sobs, yet tears coa
ted her cheeks. “Thank you. I needed to do what we just did. I needed to cry, and I didn’t want to do it alone.”
“The kids...”
She shook her head. “Silvia is determined to get me to eat, ten times a day if she could. And Lennox, he hovers. Poor Jocelyn is unsure what to say or do. I just want normal.”
“One day, angelo, after you beat this thing. You asked what I see when I look at you. I see forza. I see strength within a fierce and worthy fighter. I see a woman who’s never backed down. Do you remember telling me that growing up with Carmine and Rose, the men around your home were intimidating?”
She laughed. “Like you.”
I shrugged. “I don’t feel very intimidating right now. But you said they were. By the time I met you, really got to know you...you were the intimidating one.” My cheeks rose. “I believe, Mrs. Demetri, that I even confessed that before our first date.”
She laughed. “You did say you were scared of me.”
“Terrified was the word I used. By the way, it’s one of the things I’ve always loved about you.”
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” she asked again, standing.
I didn’t need coffee, but I saw the truth in her eyes. I remembered her words, I want to take care of people I love—maybe I was once again on that list. “I’d love a cup. Then let’s go sit on the deck. The sound is spectacular this evening.”
Her smile grew as her head tilted. “I have a better idea if you don’t mind?”
“I’m confident that no matter what you’re thinking, I won’t mind.”
As the sun sank lower in the evening sky, Angelina and I sat on the balcony outside of what used to be our bedroom. With a bottle of red wine, we reminisced and laughed. We recalled stories I’d forgotten. As was common with memories, we highlighted the good ones, the fun times of our life together and of the children.
“I’ll never see my grandchildren,” she said as the stars sprinkled the now-darkened sky.
“Don’t say that. Lennox and Jocelyn are engaged.”
“The wedding is set for next July. Oren, I might not be here.”
I squeezed her hand. “We’ll spare no expense. Get the best doctors in the country...in the world. Together we’ll fight this.”
“No. I know you mean well, but that decision is up to me. I will fight, but only until I can’t any longer. The oncologist was honest. He said I could do the surgery, chemo, and radiation, and I still might not make it six months. He also said I could do none of that and not make it six months. He said to consider my quality of life.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “for everything.”
“Never be sorry. We have a love—have, not had—a love that most people never find. I’m not sorry for anything. I’ve known the fulfillment of marrying the man of my dreams. I’ve brought a baby into this world. I’ve done what I could for him. I was blessed with a daughter, one who I’ve watched become a remarkable woman. I had a husband who sacrificed his soul for me.” She turned my way. “Don’t think I don’t know that. I’ve also known the love of parents, and of an aunt and uncle, and a cousin who became a brother. I have no regrets.”
I did.
Now wasn’t the time to voice them.
“Fight, mio angelo. Please fight.”
She didn’t respond as we both sat, our fingers intertwined, listening to the once-familiar noises of the darkened Long Island Sound, the soft waves and the rustling of the trees. In the soft din of nature, I recalled a time before the house was fully built when she’d brought me up to this balcony and explained what it would be. Everything she promised had come to pass. Her sketches became our home. As we stared into the darkness and she settled her head against my shoulder, I had too many regrets, and yet my love for the woman beside me was not one of them.
That love had propelled a life full of decisions that I’d willingly chosen while at the same time gave me more than I ever imagined.
Her breathing steadied, and I knew that she was asleep. Slowly, I continued to rock the glider we were sitting on back and forth, allowing her to rest. During our talk, she’d said that sleep had been spotty at best; each time she closed her eyes, she would wake with a jolt, her mind filled with the milestones she’d never see.
If I could, I’d spend every dime I’d ever made. I’d sell what was left of my soul to the devil himself. I’d do anything to take this disease away, to make her body healthy. Unfortunately, some wishes don’t come with a price because they’re not meant to be.
Sitting at a small table at Carlisle’s, I waited for Vincent to arrive. I hadn’t spoken to him in months; our relationship wasn’t as close as it had been at one time. I paid my dues and continued to uphold my end of our agreement, but with technology it wasn’t the envelopes of cash Carmine had seen in his younger days. Today there were electronic transfers and untraceable bank accounts in foreign countries. It was a complicated system and yet much easier and cleaner than it had been in the old days.
While my ex-wife came closer to life’s end, my over-five-year relationship also had come to an end. The two weren’t related, and yet I was helpless to stop either one.
I’d been honest with my second love. I’d shared my dark secrets and my heartaches. She’d shared her own. Though her situation wasn’t the same as Angelina’s, I wanted to save her too. I supposed it was a man-thing, wanting to ride in on a white horse and save the day. I wasn’t capable of that with Angelina, and with Adelaide, she wouldn’t allow it.
She told me goodbye, saying that she was setting me free to find another Angelina. She said she didn’t deserve me, but she couldn’t have been further from the truth. I didn’t deserve either of the women who held my heart. They were both too good for the likes of me. Yet even in their absence, I would be a prisoner to their love.
A man like me rarely shared his heart, but when he did, it was forever.
My saving grace was my company. I still had Demetri Enterprises. The company had ridden the economic wave and was prospering internationally as well as domestically. Our legitimate holdings far outweighed any questionable alliances. We were now a reckoning force in all things, including the political structure as laws and regulations affected our investments. We had our hand in lobbying as well as greasing a hand here and there.
Lennox had taken a stronger role. Despite what Angelina had hoped for in our son—the opposite of me—I saw the determined work ethic in him. Our son was no longer the entitled child who’d failed to show respect to his family. He was dedicated and hardworking. Understandably, he was currently spending more time in Rye with his mother. Her days were numbered. Angelina and Lennox weren’t alone; they had Silvia and Jocelyn, too.
I still visited but made a point of visiting when Lennox wasn’t there. Our separation of business and personal was at an all-time high.
Silvia seemed to understand my presence better. She knew that despite the divorce, Angelina and I had an enduring connection. The last time I saw my ex-wife, she was a fraction of the woman I married.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she’d said, her voice weak as I entered her bedroom. Sitting up in a chair with a blanket over her lap, her cheekbones were too prominent and her hair thinned.
“Like what?” I said with as much amusement as I could muster. Instead of letting her answer, I did it for her. “Like I’m seeing the most beautiful woman in the world, the one who stole my heart?”
“Oren.”
Our visit was short. While her skin was too pale, even the terrible disease couldn’t take away the spark in her eyes. They twinkled as she spoke about the impending wedding.
“Oren,” Vincent’s deep voice brought me back to the restaurant.
There’d been a time in my life when no one would have caught me unawares, but apparently, I was no longer there. I’d been lost in memories and regrets as the Costello boss approached my table.
“Vincent,” I said, standing. Nodding, I added, “Jimmy.”
The three of us sat with our b
acks toward the wall. Old habits were hard to break.
“I’m not a man to mince words,” Vincent said.
I agreed, but remained silent.
“I wanted to talk to you about Lennox.”
My neck straightened. “What about him?”
“I’ve been watching. He’s doing good.”
“He is.”
“He’s getting married to that girl?” Vincent said, partially in question and also in declaration.
“Yes. Soon, I hope while Angelina...” I didn’t finish my sentence.
“Yes. We received our invitation. I wanted to tell you what I told Angelina years ago, but now...” His dark eyes clouded. “It’s not right that we lose her.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“I don’t agree with the decisions you and my cousin made for Lennox, but I respect them. I respect you—both of you. You’ve worked hard for Demetri. You’ve helped Costello. We’ll keep our business between the two of us. For Angelina, it’s better to keep your son out of it.”
An invisible load lifted from my shoulders. “Thank you, Vincent. You know I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“I’ve been giving that some thought. I’ll be calling.”
My relief evaporated as he stood and walked away.
I’ll be calling... It had too many meanings.
Costello riddles.
Though I didn’t know what he’d meant, I decided to take comfort in knowing that Lennox’s freedom from family obligations had been proclaimed by the boss himself. No one could argue as long as Vincent was in charge.
Lennox and Jocelyn’s wedding was small in comparison to other Costello events. They were married on the lawn between the house and the Long Island Sound on a sunny summer afternoon. The date had thankfully been moved up to accommodate Angelina.
Jocelyn was beautiful in her dress and Lennox handsome in a custom suit. The parish priest agreed to marry them outside the walls of the church due to the circumstances. He performed the mass and ceremony beautifully.
Angelina was stunning in a long dress that hung from her too thin body. Unable to walk the length of the yard, she sat beside me in a wheelchair and watched our son say his vows.
The Price of Honor: The Making of a Man Page 33