by Jen Tirone
He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and there’s just nothing to say.
It’s unforgivable what I did to both men.
What I’ve almost done to my daughter.
I never meant to make these mistakes.
“I’m sorry, Michael. I wish things were different.”
I’m crying all over again. I don’t know how to make the pain of all these terrible choices I’ve made in life, go away.
How I managed to make such a big fuckup out of everything, I’ll never know.
“God, Gia, I’m so angry…I fucking hate you right now… ” he says in a pained voice, dropping his chin to his chest for a moment while covering his face.
I felt myself withering with those spoken words.
I guess there was no easy way to let me down. Not after what I did.
“But I can’t stand to see you like this either,” he concedes, looking back up at me and then walks up to gather me in his arms.
I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, breathing him in because the relief is tremendous and I can’t believe I’m in his arms.
I don’t deserve to be.
But there’s hope after all.
It wasn’t a free pass, I know.
But it was the start in getting Mia with her father.
We held each other for some time trying to seek and give comfort to one another.
How he even took some from me, I don’t know. But I think Michael needed to be held as much as I needed him to hold me.
My life was a mess.
But this was one less lie I was going to take to the grave.
One wrong that was righted finally, through honesty.
It was late at night, but the detective was able to convince the director of the hospital to revise the application for the birth certificate straight away.
Mia was officially Mia Vitale Adair.
It felt right and whole, now.
Michael wanted to go back in to see her; I encouraged him to have his first moment as her father both in word and writing, alone.
I wished I could give him all that he deserved in the world, but I knew what the cost of those ambitions were. I had already paid for it with my soul.
He came out of the room with glossy eyes and flushed cheeks. He no longer looked haunted. He was most definitely proud, though you could tell it was subdued.
I softly wished him a goodnight, and wordlessly he lifted his hand in a wave and offered me a strained smile, but other than that, we hadn’t said anything to each other after we signed the certificate.
I still had no expectations, especially now that he knew he was her father.
The following morning I inquired about work in the hospital to no avail.
I would figure it out soon.
I felt hopeful things were beginning to look up. Mostly with such a heavy burden off my chest I was more optimistic. I had to be, for Mia.
Michael came and went at all different hours, everyday to see his little girl.
We were a bit distant, understandably. But I was okay with that. Mia had her father, and Michael had his daughter. That’s all I needed.
Some days he came with home-cooked food and clothes I imagined Nora helped him get for me, hiding it all in a back pack, and then leaving it on the seat for me just before he’d leave.
Other days he strong-armed me with guilt in joining him for dinner in the cafeteria by telling me that a man can only do so much for his child in the beginning when the newborn only needs their mother. The only way he can nourish his baby in a roundabout way, was through the nourishment of the mother.
I couldn’t argue with him.
I’d already taken away so much from him, I wouldn’t take away what he felt like he actually could do right now. We were both helpless as it was with her frailty, fighting to survive each day. I wasn’t going to add petty disagreements over nonsense to our situation.
When we spoke to each other it was only about her.
Did she do anything new today? How many ounces has she eaten so far? How were her nappies? Did I get to nurse her today or was it a formula kind of day? Did she smile in her sleep again?
When Mia made it to her first month, Michael showed up with an espresso for me, a coffee for him and we celebrated the triumph in his car with two slices of pound cake from the cafeteria. We tapped our Styrofoam cups together in cheer and ate silently, looking over at each other to smile a small smile every now and again because to us, this was everything.
Had I forgotten about Gio?
Never.
But his choice was made.
And so was mine.
This was the way of my life now, I was only moving forward.
I missed him. I did.
But I knew now I missed the boy I grew up with, the man he made me think I was marrying, and not who he really was.
It was sad.
But it was hopeless to dwell on it, even more.
When another month came by and our girl was so strong and breathing from her own lungs for the first time, I think we were immensely sentimental and emotionally high on life, that when we hugged each other in our mutual thrill for her momentous milestone, we kissed.
It was quick, but so soft, so beautiful, and so sweet, I cried.
He laughed at me while wiping my tears away with his thumbs and with another quick peck he took off.
I think he was beginning to forgive me.
Mia was going to be released in a few weeks, I was beside myself with gratitude that she made it, but I had no idea what we were going to do.
I couldn’t obtain work, even though I tried.
I had no money.
I had no place to stay.
I didn’t even know how to drive.
And it’s not like I could leave the country, taking her away from him like I insanely thought of doing in my desperation before.
I couldn’t ever ask him for help. It wasn’t a matter of pride; he’s just done too much for me already.
But ever the astute detective, he was a step ahead of me.
The morning before she was to be discharged, I was going to walk to the nearest church and beg for a couple days of using their roof over our heads, or at the very least a night to sleep there, if that was all they could give me.
Before I made it past the hospital parking lot, Michael was pulling into the lot in his 1967 fathom blue Pontiac Firebird.
I waved hello to him, intent on going to the church still, but he idled the car next to me and lowered his window to talk.
“Get in, love,” he tells me with a nod to the passenger seat.
I didn’t want to invite questions on where I was going or what I was going to do, so I just got into his car without a word. The sooner I got breakfast or whatever it was over with, the sooner I could quietly go on my mission without a fuss.
“Quite pensive today, aren’t you?” he asks breaking the silence, getting me out of my head.
I hadn’t realized we were parked outside of a house until he spoke.
“What? Sorry, lots on my mind. Where are we?” I asked, looking around at the neighborhood.
“We’re home,” he says simply.
“Home? You moved?” I said dumbly, noticing this wasn’t the townhouse I’d been to before.
He took a deep breath.
“It’s our home,” he said looking at me in the eyes.
“Our home,” I repeated, not understanding him correctly.
“Yes. Mia’s, mine… and yours,” he said in a low voice.
My face went numb.
My throat got tight.
It was suddenly hard to breathe from my nose, I had to open my mouth.
My eyes blurred with tears.
I sniffed, trying to keep it together so I could have this conversation with him.
He cupped my face with his hand and watched as he rubbed his thumb on my cheekbone in a request to hear him out.
“There’s no way I’m not going to have my two girls here with me, Gia,�
�� he said as he moved his hand to the nape of my neck, where he then rubbed my jawline as he continued to speak. “I’m not asking for anything more than having you both here under the same roof with me. There are three bedrooms. One for each of us until we figure everything out.
“But until then, make me a very happy man by accepting this and taking my help. I know you have nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to, and like it or not, love, I’m connected to you forever, in a bond stronger than anything else in this world. Please, make it easy on me to be able to see the baby every morning and every night,” he finishes his pitch.
Anything he asked of me, he would get. He deserved it.
“Okay, Michael,” I agreed immediately and gratefully.
“Now wait—” he starts and then jerks his head back to get a better look at me. When the words sink in, making him smile his troublesome smile, he shakes his head and laughs. “That was easy. I have to say, you’re already making a fine roommate being this amenable. Honestly though, I’m glad I didn’t have to fight you harder on this, love. This is great,” he says getting visibly happier with each word.
“I don’t ever want to fight with you again, Michael,” I tell him truthfully.
“Hey, now, where’s this somberness coming from? It’s going to be fine, you’ll see. This is a great arrangement for all of us. You’re allowed to be a bit excited knowing you going to live with this stud,” he tells me with a wink and fondly knocks my chin up.
He was smiling so big, the corners of his eyes were creased and he didn’t realize he wasn’t hiding his imperfect teeth with what was a perfect smile to me… making me smile at the sight of him looking at me with so much joy again.
Life with Michael was so easy.
He was funny, completely laid-back and always playful.
He never kept anything to himself, speaking everything he thought out loud. When Mia was discharged, he drove us to his home and the moment we walked inside he didn’t hesitate to tell me what was on his mind.
Reaching to take Mia in his arms, he walks to the center of the family room and started talking to me through her. “Mia, my little love bug, and Gianna… my love, welcome home. Now, love bug, I’m enlisting your total cooperation in helping me convince your mam she belongs here, with us, and she needs to forgive herself already. And most importantly, love bug, convince her that it’s okay for her to admit she loves your da,” he says emotionally, his Irish accent richer with each word spoken to us.
He looks over to me and winks before he leaves to settle her into the crib he bought and set up for her.
I tried not to feel out of place, but I did. I knew it would take me some time.
He strolled right back to where I was standing and jumped right into addressing the elephant in the room.
“Let’s have that chat, shall we?” he says as he opens his palm out toward the couch to indicate I should take a seat.
I’d been dreading this, but we aired everything there was to be let out.
He started by telling me that through deductive reasoning, he surmised I witnessed things he wished I hadn’t that day at the container. But he knew about Matti and the two other men.
His friend would randomly follow me to give Michael an update on me, and happened to that day. He had photos placing me at the crime, then covered in blood and carried out by Gio. His friend also took photos of my husband going back to Belucci & Sons to clean up the mess.
His PI handed over the incriminating photos, knowing Michael, the detective, was going to do the right thing. From there, his friend cleaned his hands of it.
But Michael destroyed all the evidence that could incriminate me.
I couldn’t believe the extent he went to protect me.
Because he didn’t want me to have to stand trial and possibly face prison for obstructing justice knowing I wasn’t going to speak at the stand, he took me out of the scenario entirely.
“Gesu Cristo, Michael, you’ve gone against your integrity to uphold the law because of me,” I told him, feeling incredibly guilty, yet grateful to have someone on my side.
It was always a mess where I was involved. I hated it.
“I wasn’t about to just watch you go to prison for that bastard when I know you didn’t do anything. I can’t help who I love; I’d do anything for you,” he told me, making me feel worse that deep down inside I still worried for Gio.
I thought about him constantly, and I knew Michael wasn’t going to stop until he found him and put him away for good.
But Mia outweighed every thought by a ton, and I was tired of getting caught in between the crossfires of good and bad.
“I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you.”
“It’s not about that. I just want you to be here, in peace, and at home with our daughter,” he said, like it was the simplest thing to do.
It was hard knowing he had to do things he would never have if it weren’t for me and it made taking his help even harder to stomach.
We eventually got past the awkwardness, keeping our conversations light at first, mostly about the baby. Then subtly, we began to have our morning coffee together, and even though dinners were a recap of Mia’s day, they were something I looked forward to.
Easily, a friendship between us formed and because he couldn’t help himself being a troublemaker, the sexual tension started to make its presence again. Well, it was always there, we were just paying more attention to it now that things were easily falling into place.
At least, it felt like it to me.
As much as we both knew we really wanted each other, we kept away from each other intimately. We still needed to get our heads straight before we could become entangled that way again. So I slept in the guest room even though he’d tease countless times that spooning didn’t have to lead to anything else. Always mischievous, that man.
When I first moved in two months ago, he brought me to my new room and told me that since my penthouse had been trashed by both police and the mob, he had gone by one day to see what he could possibly salvage for me while I was staying at the hospital.
He had seen albums and thought they might have been filled with family photos. When he opened them and saw instead they were pictures of random objects, and he already knew from his little spy friend I had taken up photography, he packed them up for me along with my camera he found intact still.
He had stacked them on the dresser for me in the guest room. I wanted to cry at the thoughtfulness of this incredible man.
From that day on, I got to take photograph after photograph of him and Mia.
I can’t even count how many I took of them whenever they both fell asleep on the couch with his arms cradling her to his chest.
This morning he asked me if I would join him and Mia on a visit to his parents, her new grandparents, but I politely declined, not ready yet to give them my unworthy presence or sorry explanations.
I was making lunch, recalling what the cheeky bastard had done to me earlier when I had just gotten out of the shower.
I was applying moisturizer to my face at the bathroom mirror when I heard the unmistakable sound of a camera click.
I turned around and heard a few more clicks through the door, before I wrenched it open completely and was caught off guard seeing Michael in nothing but sweats and my camera strapped around his neck.
Gesu Cristo, what a sight.
“What are you doing?” I asked, amused.
“I’m capturing a work of art,” he says looking through the viewer.
Click, click.
I put my hand up in front of my face to block him while trying to reach out with my other.
“Stop!” I said laughing.
“No way, love, these shots are magnificent!” he says, reaching his available hand to swat mine away.
Click, click.
“No, they’re not! Stop!” I was still laughing, now really shy having the camera turned on me.
“Now, give me fierce. Rawr,” he says
, pawing his hand at me like a tiger and I burst out laughing.
Click, click, click, click.
He must have taken the worst photos, not realizing he needed to focus the lens with every movement he made dancing around me.
But it was funny.
“I know I asked for fierce, but you gave me extraordinary love. Thank you,” he says, softly.
I stopped laughing at that, my chest feeling warm, and full. Click, click.
“Michael, you’re wasting the film.”
“No, I’m not… I can’t wait for you to develop these for me.”
“You’re crazy,” I told him.
“About you... yeah,” he whispers moving the camera out of his face and looks me in the eyes. Then he goes to set it down on an end table by the sofa and walked right up to me, not hesitating to lower his gorgeous mouth toward mine for a kiss, when Mia wailed from her room before our lips could touch.
We laughed at the silliness of jumping apart from each other like teens caught kissing.
I had my hand on my chest subconsciously rubbing the ache there; he cleared his throat. ”I’ll get her, love. You go ahead and finish up what you were doing in the mirror,” he says and then leaves me standing there, wondering how long we were still going to be able to stay away from each other.
When the two of them were leaving, almost as an afterthought, he called for me by the door.
“Gia, we’re going now. I’ll see you later, alright?”
I met them at the foyer and smiled at the sight of him with a diaper bag and our chubby little cherub on his hip.
“See you two later,” I replied and walked up to give Mia another kiss on her head and when I straightened up, Michael was looking at me funny.
He looked overcome with emotion.
“You okay?” I asked.
“I am. I am,” he nodded and then cupped my face with his free hand to give me a kiss on my forehead.
“Later, love. I won’t be too long.”
And with that they left.
Deciding to start on lunch for when they returned, I went about kneading dough for sandwiches I wanted to make with it.
When it was done baking, I turned off the oven and set the loaf of rosemary bread on top of the stove to cool off.