Revive

by Mary Wasowski

  “Mama, you are wrong and way off base. I am not angry with Nick, at least not anymore. It was a long time ago, and I have put it behind me and moved on with my life. I imagine he is also doing the same living his. For the love of all that is holy, please let’s drop it, okay?”

  “Just one question if I may?” she asked.

  “You may.”

  “Will you see him while you are here? He never married, you know, nor do I believe he is even serious with anyone.”

  I deeply sighed over her question, squaring my shoulders back to give her my answer.

  “I haven’t seen Nick in over ten years. What makes you even believe that he would want to see me? I am probably the last person on his mind. Please, mama, let’s go to church and then to the cemetery. I am only here for the weekend, and I do not wish to feed your hopefulness on a Thea and Nick reunion.”

  Her face had fallen, and I saw that I made her cry. Of course, she was trying to hide it from me, but I knew it was my fault for making her feel sad. She asked me every year to come home on this day, and I always refused her. Sure, I’d been home over the years, but never on this day. It had been fifteen years since 9/11, and it still felt as if it occurred yesterday. Yes, I accepted her invitation without hesitation because I knew how much it meant to her, despite how much it would hurt me to be in this city. There were too many memories of the past, a painful one that I tried every single day to forget.

  My father’s firehouse lost nine men on 9/11, including my hero, my father. All his fellow firefighters were honorary uncles and father figures to me, Nick, and all of us kids. Our neighborhood was tight and everyone knew your name and had your back. It was the strongest testament of loyalty.

  The years that followed were not easy ones for my mother. She mourned every single fallen firefighter, all 343 of them. She carried the burden of becoming a single parent and desperately trying to fill the void my father’s death left on her. She worked three jobs to put me through school. And this was how I thanked her? By coming home and being a total cold bitch to her when all she wanted was for me to comfort her, to be the daughter she raised with pride and not the pale shell of a person that was standing in front of her now. I felt like shit as I watched my beautiful mother wear an expression of sadness. This was not me, and she deserved better.

  Throughout the years, I was thankful she didn’t become a recluse, just the opposite, by the way. She worked early on in their marriage until she had me, and then daddy preferred her to stay at home. I know it was a cliché to keep the little woman home, but mom embraced it and was always there for me. She and Mrs. Bartelli were the “it” neighborhood mothers. They ruled the block with their Italian dishes. Forget about having an unsuccessful bake sale at school; all the kids loved their food.

  Mom was a music teacher and could play seven instruments. She was hired by the district to rotate between three elementary schools, and when she wasn’t at school, she gave private lessons at night and on the weekends. My house was always like Grand Central, filled with clients or my friends.

  She was sad and cried nearly every day for a year after daddy died. But she carried herself in a way as a symbol of strength for me and the other widows who were like mom, alone and picking up the pieces of their lives while maintaining to keep their families together. Mom would emerge from the bathroom and her tear-stained cheeks were pink and bright again. I knew it was not make-up, though. She always gave each cheek a pinch to bring the color back to her skin, which was flawless. All the worry and pain she struggled with over the years, and yet her stress was not evident on her face. She was beyond strong, and I was jealous of that.

  Where was my strength when I needed it most? I made the decision to break up with Nick and leave him for a job three thousand miles away because I allowed my fear of losing him guide me. Where did it get me?

  “Ready to go?” she asked, bringing me back from my thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, mama. Please don’t hate me. I don’t know what I’m doing, but hurting you is the last thing I ever wish to do.”

  My tears were falling, and I just felt so small. She looked over at me with kindness in her eyes and held out her arms for me to embrace her. I went without thought and wrapped my arms around her waist.

  She said, “Come here, baby girl. No matter the length of time, you are home for now. Whatever needs fixing, we will figure it out. I am here for you, and I always will be for as long as you need me.”

  She held me close, and I found my spot on her chest and returned all my love back onto her. She deserved nothing less.

  I said, “That was never my problem. I have always needed you, mom. I just forget how to show it sometimes.”

  “Thea, it’s okay to need and lean on others. It will not lessen who you are or who you have worked so hard to become. You are Bobby Falcone’s little girl, and he would not want you to be so closed off, especially in here.”

  She placed her hand over my heart, and I nearly fell apart. But I held my own to not hurt her any more than I already had.

  After church, mom insisted we visit Ladder 4. My heart was nearly in my throat while parking the car. I knew he had to be in there. After we parted on what I thought would be the happiest night of my life, I moved to Los Angeles to begin my new life, one that didn’t have Nick Bartelli in it. It wasn’t my original plan, but I was fooling myself to ever believe that Nick would follow me. Regrets were a hard pill to swallow, but I was not going to waste the career opportunity of a lifetime, and I knew it was not one that would come again. My father used to tell me that I had the ability to change the world. We would read to each other each night before my bedtime. He would tell me that I had dreams in my eyes and would do great things in life. Every time I produced a segment for ABC, I always thought back to that conversation and thanked daddy in heaven for believing in me.

  “Thea!” my mother called, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Earth to Thea! Are you coming inside?”

  “Mom, I don’t think it’s a good idea. How about I come back in an hour to pick you up?”

  “Absolutely not. Now get your fanny out of that car and walk in with me. The luncheon has already started, and you know how I hate being late. And please, wipe that worry off your face. He’s probably not even in there. You know, he’s a busy man with a very important position. I’m sure he doesn’t have time to entertain a group of widows.”

  Sure, he didn’t. Nicholas Bartelli, or Nick as I always called him and which he preferred, was the ultimate Boy Scout. He was a people-pleaser, that’s for sure, and making an appearance at an event like this would be exactly what a “chief” would do. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of him, because in reality, he was a hard one to get over. Suck it up, Thea. You can do this.

  I remembered this house fondly from the years I spent here with my dad. It felt like home, but how could that be when our fathers were no longer here with us?

  As we entered, the walls closed in and all the air was sucked out of the room because I noticed this stunning man in his form-fitting uniform, chatting away with a group of ladies, one of them being his mother. Stella noticed mom immediately and walked briskly over to us. Nick hadn’t noticed me yet, and I was thankful for that.

  “Oh, Frannie, I am so happy to see you here. You know I called you the minute I arrived from Florida, but you still don’t have a machine to leave a message on. How can you go without a machine? And in these modern times?”

  Mama replied, “Easy! Just knock on the door, and if I’m home, then we will have a conversation in person.”

  “You never change, my friend, but I have missed you.”

  The old friends embraced one another and another pang of guilt surged through my heart.

  Stella gestured to me and said, “And you, get over here, and give me a hug. What are you waiting for? A written invitation?”

  “Hi, Stella,” I told her, “You look fantastic.”

  “I do, don’t I? It must be all the vitamin D I get to soak
in every day.”

  “How long have you been in Florida? Did you sell your house?” I asked.

  She raised an eyebrow at me as if I should already know the answer. Another example of how I don’t visit enough.

  “I split my time between my condo in the Keys and here in Queens. Nick owns the house now, and I hardly recognize it with all the renovations he has done to it, all on his own. He should have been a carpenter with his talent, but something greater had become his calling.”

  Jab…right to my heart…again! His heart was not the only one that was broken when I left. I was so close to Stella. When I wasn’t with my mom, I was with her. Up until our break-up, our mothers were already beginning to plan our wedding. I had to get out of here before he saw me.

  “That’s great, Stella. You look, um, great,” I nervously responded.

  “So you’ve said, dear, and more than once. What are your plans while you are in town? Catch up with friends? Maybe see a Broadway show with your mom? Or a visit with my son? You know Nick, you remember him, don’t you? He’s standing right over there. Aren’t you going to say hello? I have an idea, you can congratulate him on becoming Battalion Fire Chief of this house,” she said, enunciating slowly, but very directly with the point she was trying to make.

  I wanted to die.

  I said, “That’s okay, I know he must be busy, and I actually have to be going. It was wonderful to see you again. Mama, can you get a ride home with one of the ladies? I’m not feeling so well.”

  And that was the truth. Every mention of Nick made my stomach flip. Stella Bartelli, Lord knows I love that woman, but she was target practicing on my heart and never missed.

  While Stella remained quiet, my mom implored me to stay.

  “Thea, I want you here. Please don’t go. You are welcomed here and have been missed very much. Look over there. Karen is here and would love to spend some time with you.”

  My mother was pointing directly in Karen’s view. Yeah, right. Karen wants to see me. The neighborhood whore who didn’t waste one minute trying to bed Nick after I left wants to see me? Yeah, I heard all about that. Rumor has it he was so drunk that he woke up in her bed after our graduation party. She tended to run her mouth too much, so I never believed it, or at least tried not to. He didn’t owe me anything. I was the one who left him.

  “Mom, Stella, I really need to go. Have fun with your friends, and enjoy the luncheon.”

  She called me back, but I kept going. I never walked so fast in my life. I had my rental car keys in my hand and headed for the exit.

  I was nearly there when a set of strong arms pulled me back. All six feet, four inches of him was holding me tightly, and before I knew what was happening, I was whisked off to a private office with the door closing behind me. I could hear the click of a lock.

  He let me go, and I immediately crossed my arms over my chest in my signature protective mode, but he was on me again and turned me around by my shoulders to face him.

  “It is you! Hi, Thea,” he whispered close to my ear.

  His scent was making me dizzy, all musky with a clean scent that got me every time I was close to him. He rarely wore cologne; he didn’t need to.

  “Hi, Nick,” was all I could say before he took me in his arms and crushed his mouth to mine in a bruising and punishing kiss. Holy fuck! I haven’t seen Nicholas Bartelli in over ten years, and he’s kissing me just as he used to do when we were together, teen sweethearts pretty much all through high school and taking a few breaks from each other in college.

  I wanted to push him away. I knew this was wrong. And what about Carter? I had to stop him, but my traitorous body had other ideas. It shouldn’t have been responding to him in this way.

  “How is this happening?” I asked.

  He broke our kiss and held his hypnotizing gaze as if I was a magnet that he had the ability to pull forward. I had no choice but to remain focused on him.

  “Your lips feel the same. You taste the same. You look like the girl I used to know and loved with everything I had within me, and then you left me. Right?”

  “You would be correct,” I murmured.

  What could I say to him? He was right, but how would you explain the kiss? He never took his eyes away from mine as I struggled to say something back to him.

  “Nick, I…” I stammered trying to find the right words to say to him. He raised his hands up effectively silencing me.

  “It’s okay, T. I believe we said all we needed to say to one another. See you later…or not.”

  Present day – September 11th

  “Sir, here is the agenda for today’s events. Today will be a warm-up for tomorrow. I have detailed your itinerary to peruse at your convenience.”

  I responded, “Hi, my apologies, but it seems as if I have forgotten your name. I usually am very good with memorizing every name, but you are new, so I apologize.”

  “No offense taken. I just transferred in from Connecticut. I’m Leslie Pevelka, and I am your new administrative assistant. My former house was very formal, and I take it this house is not?”

  She was a breath of fresh air and a far cry from the last assistant I had. Mrs. Wilkerson was too crabby and uptight for me or this house.

  I told her, “To a degree, we are, but I am happy to welcome you to Ladder 4.”

  “Thank you, Chief, I am happy to be here as well. If there is nothing else, I am going to check on the luncheon arrangements.”

  “That’s fine, Leslie. Thank you. Please close the door on your way out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I closed my eyes and leaned back in my father’s chair. The leather had been broken in like a new baseball glove. Dad used to say that over time, it would be just right for him, and it was. He sat in this chair for nearly twenty years. He had more years left in him. He loved this job and what we did for our community.

  But 9/11 changed the world. The United States was exposed, and we were gutted wide open with what happened in New York City. Thousands of innocent lives were just snuffed out, families broken and lost. Our hope and faith were challenged, along with new security measures in our airports, tunnels, everywhere. Our city was strong, our country was strong, and we would come back but never forget.

  Today, on the fifteenth anniversary of 9/11, we would remember every detail of that tragedy. We would remember our fallen brothers and pay tribute to the sacrifices they made on that day, including my father’s.

  “Yeah, this is a good chair, pop. It’s no longer vacant, and I promise only a Bartelli will ever sit in it,” I said aloud.

  I placed a kiss to his picture on my desk. It served as a reminder on how far I had come since my acceptance into the fire academy. I worked my ass off, that’s for sure. Before making chief, I had risen through the department ranks, working as a firefighter, paramedic, rescue diver, lieutenant, training officer, and a National Fire Academy instructor. But nothing could ever prepare me fully for becoming the chief. I would never forget the conversation I had with Chief Hendricks, my predecessor...

  He sat me down, kicked his feet up one last time on the desk, and enjoyed his cigar.

  He said, “Nick, I wish your father was alive to witness the honor I bestow upon you today. Today will probably be the greatest day of your life as you accept being named chief. Tomorrow will probably be the worst day because you will realize the enormous responsibility you have for the entire department. Are you ready for that? Because the guys are not going to be so welcoming to you. You are young and not as seasoned as us old timers here. Shit, I am practically being shoved out the door. However, I could not be more proud of my replacement. You have earned this, son, and I know in my heart you will do amazing things for this house, your brothers, and this city.”

  I’d never forget his words, nor him. I was not a crier, but today all the rules were thrown out the window. I picked up the other framed photo I had on my desk. Chief Hendricks’ arms were around me, and his smile lit up the room as he pinned my new badge on
my uniform. He hugged me like a father would his son, and I ached for my own father to have been with me. My mother was in the audience and cheered for me like she did when I was back in school making the winning touchdown.

  “Thanks, Chief, for believing in me, and if you see my dad up there in heaven, can you do me a favor and give him a hug from me?” I said aloud.

  Just as I wiped a tear that escaped my eye, Tony crashed through the door.

  “Hey, bigshot, you ready to go?”

  “Go? And where am I going?” I asked my dear friend, one of the best Lieutenants this house had ever seen.

  “Check your schedule, Chief. That fancy luncheon for the 9/11 widows will be beginning soon, and you as chief have to make a speech and kiss the ladies.”

  “I wish you would not call them that,” I told him.

  “What?”

  “Come on, Tony, the 9/11 widows…I always hated that reference. My mother will be here today, and she doesn’t like that term either, so do not call her that. Her name is Mrs. Bartelli, not the 9/11 widow. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Sure, boss. I’ll pass it around. I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. I’ll be out soon,” I said.

  Tony lingered at my door and shuffled his feet. I finally asked what the problem was and when he turned around to face me, his facial expression changed.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Can you take off your chief hat and be my best friend? I have something to tell you, and it’s personal.”

  “Okay, what’s up?”

  “Not sure if you heard, but there’s a rumor going around the neighborhood that a certain someone is back in town and was spotted earlier in front of her mother’s house. And this certain…”