My heart pounded at his words, and I sat at the dinner table feeling so embarrassed. This wasn’t me, and it definitely wasn’t the sum of our relationship. It was time I stopped asking myself how we got here and started to admit that I was the reason for our estrangement. I was to blame for everything. Not because I went to college, but because I refused to allow my mother into my life after I had left.
“We didn’t set up the Christmas tree or decorate the house that year. Your mother didn’t bake her sugar cookie snowflakes for the cookie booth at the festival. She just sat in her chair day after day, snuggled up in her sweater and reading until she went to bed. She did this every single night until she woke up on Christmas morning to an undecorated house. It was too much for her, I guess. She realized she had allowed it to consume her in the worst possible way. She was so distraught with not having you in her life, and for the first time since she set foot in America, she called her own mother.”
“She called Nonna?!” I exclaimed in barely a whisper.
I had never met my grandmother and was genuinely shocked my mom would have called her. Truthfully, I didn’t know much about my grandparents or my uncles. My mom never wanted to disclose any information about her upbringing. I only knew that my grandmother was selfish and wanted my mom to stay in Italy so she could meet and marry a successful man that would help improve the family name. Imagine a mother so self-absorbed that she wasn’t willing to support her only daughter in following her dreams.
“Yep, she wanted to talk to her and see if they could somehow reconcile, or at the very least, have some closure. It had been twenty years since your mother left Italy. At that point, she felt it was now or never, and she had waited long enough. She was as stubborn as you, Leah. Maybe even more. I wonder where you get it from.” He winked at me.
“So what happened?” I inquired.
“Well, it took your mother a while to find her because they had ended up moving out of their small village. As you may remember from your mother’s stories, they didn’t have a lot of money growing up. Once her brothers had settled themselves in financially, they bought your grandparents a plot of land and had a house built for them. When your mom was finally able to get a hold of them, your Nonna hung up on her. She later said she hadn’t believed it was really her, and that a part of her just wasn’t ready to confront the girl who had left her all those years ago.”
“Oh, poor Mom,” I said, embarrassed knowing my immature self would have hung up if my mom had called me, too. I was such an asshole.
“Well, your grandfather called your mom back instead, and they spoke for a very long time,” he continued. “They didn’t know she had become a teacher, or that we got married, or that we even had you. Your mom never reached out to anyone once she had arrived here, so no one even knew if she was still alive. I think that was her way of letting go of the past and allowing herself to live a life that she wanted.”
“I tried to get her to contact them on many occasions, but you know how your mother was. As soon as she set her mind to something, there was no budging. She was her own person, that’s for sure. You’re so much like her, pumpkin. More than you could even know.”
“What happened after Nonno called her back? Did she tell you what they talked about?”
“Well, eventually, your grandmother got on the phone and spoke with your mother. I stayed in the den while she sat here in the kitchen. I wanted to give her some space and privacy, but I also wanted to be close enough if she needed me. Of course, I couldn’t understand anything because they were speaking in Italian, but when your mother hung up the phone and walked into the den, she was smiling and her face was covered in tears. I hadn’t seen her smile like that since before you left. Your grandmother invited us all to Italy to visit. She wanted to meet us, and of course, wanted to reconcile with your mom in person.”
“Did you go?” I asked.
“I didn’t go. Your mother decided it was best for her to make the trip herself and then we would all go together the next time. It was a tough time with the store, so I didn’t fight it. She ended up going the following spring for two weeks, and when she came back, she was planning on making a trip up to the city to see you and help you pack up to head back home for summer break,” my dad told me.
“So why didn’t she?” I questioned nervously.
I already knew the answer to that, though. I had decided to stay in the city for summer break and work instead. I was given an opportunity for a paid summer internship and the money from that coupled with my student loans was enough for me to rent my own apartment instead of a dorm room.
“When you told us you weren’t coming back, your mother knew it was time to let you go. She figured if she gave you some space, you’d come back and everything would be normal again. But…you never came back.”
He blinked a few times, seemingly trying to hold back the tears that had formed in his eyes. He walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed two beers. His walk back to the table was slow, but he twisted the tops off the beers and handed me one before taking a long drink from his. His eyes were red, but the tears were almost gone by the time he sat back down. He rubbed his thumb up and down the bottle, watching the condensation come and go.
“Dad? If you’re not ready to tell me anymore, I understand,” I offered. “I know this is hard, and I’ve been selfish enough already.”
“It’s okay, pumpkin. You asked and you deserve to know. Besides, memories are only good if we share them.” He took another long sip of his beer. “Your mom was devastated when you didn’t come back home, but after meeting with your grandmother, she vowed to not miss any of your important milestones, even if you didn’t want her there. She came with me to every event that you invited me to. She sat next to me for everything and snuck off to the car when it was over. She was something else, your mom. You were her everything, and you crushed her by leaving the way that you did. But let me tell you something, kid. She never stopped loving and supporting you.”
My dad’s declaration made me break down right there at the kitchen table. I knew he wasn’t saying any of this to hurt me, he just needed me to know. And in true Leah fashion, I wanted to run away from my problems, but I stumbled when I tried to get up from the table. The beer slid across the wooden table and crashed to the floor, smashing into a million pieces as it landed.
God, what the hell had I done? Who was I? I dropped to my knees and started picking up the pieces, careful not to cut myself, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to see through all of my tears. I felt my dad sit down next to me, taking the pieces out of my hands and gently placing them back on the floor. He pulled me close to him and held me in his arms like I was a little girl again.
“We all make mistakes, Leah. You had to learn to make these decisions on your own. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Life lessons come to us in many different ways, and you don’t get to choose which form they enter your world. Consider your mom’s passing as the light that will lead you from now on. She was always there for you and now she’ll always be right there with you. I love you so much.”
I wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand and smiled at my dad. The spilled beer had started to seep into my jeans, and there was definitely a piece of glass in my thumb. I stood up to grab a towel to start cleaning the mess, but my dad had me sit down and started cleaning it up for me.
“Stay right here a minute,” he told me when the mess was finally cleaned up. Minutes later, he returned with a big box and set it on the table in between us.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“You know your mother had to take pictures of anything and everything. These are some photo albums of the years you had spent apart. If she couldn’t be with you physically, she could at least look at these pictures and feel as though you were here with her.” His eyes filled with tears again.
I wondered how it was that this man didn’t hate me. I tore his wife’s heart out of her chest, still beating, and now I was respon
sible for her death. My selfishness meant he’d be without her for the rest of his life. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to be around me.
He opened the book on the very top, and the first picture I saw was the same one from my graduation. I was taken aback when I saw how many pictures there were of me. My dad turned the book to face me, and I flipped through the pages, taking in each and every picture. I laughed when I saw the selfie of my parents outside of Gray’s Papaya, New York’s number one hot dog joint. Only my mother could be this happy eating a hot dog on the streets of New York City.
“Maybe we can eat there when you come to visit next,” I suggested to my father.
“I’d like that,” he replied, his cheeks plumping up as he smiled.
“These pictures are amazing. I knew she was a great photographer, but these are even better than I remember,” I commented, pouring over the albums. “Wait, who is this little girl with me? I don’t remember taking this picture.”
He chuckled and took the picture out of my hands, thumbing over it. His left hand perched just under his chin made his face smush up, and I saw that his age had started to catch up to him.
“That’s because it’s not you. That is your mother and your grandmother. You are the spitting image of Giovanna.”
“Giovanna? As in my middle name?”
“Mm-hmm. Your mother wasn’t sure what the future held, but she wanted you to have something from her past that was strong and solid, and she knew that namesake was it.”
“Wow, I wish I knew all of this before. I don’t know what I would have done with the information, but it seems like there’s so much more I’ll never get to find out.” My lip quivered and I held my tears in.
“Not necessarily. I’ve been in contact with your grandparents, and they’re trying to come for the funeral. Your grandfather hasn’t been well, but they’re going to let me know. You are more than welcome to stay here if you want to spend some time with them and get the answers to all of your questions.”
“Thanks, Dad. Let me clean up these dishes and head to bed. It’s been a long day, and I just want to be alone.”
I picked up the dishes off the table before he had a chance to argue with me. The dishwasher would have been the easier option, but I felt like letting the soapy water soothe me while I scrubbed the pots and pans. It had been a while since I did anything in this kitchen, and I began to think about how my life would be if I didn’t end up going back to the city at all.
15
The next morning came much faster than I had hoped, and the sound of voices bellowing up the stairs ripped me from my slumber. I reached for my phone to check the time. Who the hell was here at seven in the morning?!
I dragged myself out of bed and threw on some leggings and an old, beat-up hoodie. My favorite. I was so glad it was still here, shredded and all. I laughed as I pulled the hoodie over my head, my hand getting stuck in one of the many holes on the sleeve. The cuff was hanging on by a thread, but I would never get rid of it. My mother constantly told me to just throw it away.
“I’ll buy you five new ones if you just chuck that one right now,” she would say. But I couldn’t let go of it. And now I never will.
The voices got louder as I walked closer to the kitchen, and I smiled when I saw Mr. and Mrs. O’Connor sitting at the table having coffee with Dad. So they did still live next door!
“Leah, how are you?” Mrs. O’Connor asked, getting up from the table to hug me. “I’m so happy to see you. It’s been ages.”
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. O’Connor. It’s so nice to see you. I wish it were under better circumstances, but I’m happy to be here, nonetheless. How’s Casey doing? She must be getting ready to apply for colleges soon, no?” I asked, surprised I remembered that much after so long.
“Good memory! She’s actually graduating early and is going to NYU. Pre-law. Maybe you can keep an eye on her while she’s there,” Mr. O’Connor piped up, winking at me.
“I’ll be sure to leave my cell phone number with you before I leave. She is always welcome to call me if she needs anything.”
I walked over to the counter and made myself a coffee. I had noticed some Italian sweet crème coffee creamer in the fridge the night before. I poured a generous amount into my mug and sat down at the table to join everyone. I had missed the closeness of Grace Valley. If anyone in my building knocked on my door at seven in the morning for coffee, I’d have to call the cops to have someone committed.
“Have you seen Caleb yet, Leah?” Mrs. O’Connor smirked. “I know you two were quite close, and I’ve seen him about in town a lot lately.”
Just as I was about to answer, my cell phone buzzed loudly from the counter. Oh, thank god.
“Excuse me, I need to get this,” I said, scooping up my phone and walking into the den.
A strange number I didn’t recognize flashed across the screen, hanging up before I got a chance to answer. Maybe they’d leave a message. I decided I didn’t want to make small talk anymore and went up to my room using the back stairs.
I wanted to dive into some work before I lost the energy to be productive, so as I waited for my MacBook to boot up, I went through my drawers and looked for something a little more presentable to wear. I laid my clothes on my bed and went back to my desk just in time to see a voicemail notification appear on my cell phone screen.
“Um, hi, Leah. It’s me—Caleb. I got your number from Becky. I hope you don’t mind. Listen, I was over at Joey’s auto body shop, and he asked me to drop by some stuff he found in your mom’s car. I wanted to give you a heads up before I stopped by. Wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me or not. Anyway, I’m around all day, so just call me back or text me or whatever is easier for you. I guess I’ll talk to you later. Take care.”
What. The. Fuck?
I threw my phone onto the bed and got into the shower. I hoped the hot water would wash away my feelings and confusion. Why would he need to come here to deliver anything to me? He’s engaged to another woman. Why couldn’t Joey just bring it over himself? Why do I care so much?!
Soap suds gathered around my feet and slowly swirled down the drain. I stood in the shower and watched until the very last bubble disappeared. It was as if everything was just being washed away. If only certain parts of life were that easy.
When I got back into my room, Gnocchi was on my bed waiting to greet me. I was grateful to still have him in my life, even more so that he hadn’t forgotten me. He looked up at me and purred when I sat next to him. His eyes connected with mine, and we just sat together for a while staring at the other. It was almost as if he were telling me everything was going to be all right. I wondered if he understood what was going on, and if he noticed that Mom wasn’t here anymore.
He always knew how to make me feel better. I wasn’t sure how I made it seven years without him by my side. I was definitely taking him back to New York with me.
Gnocchi’s head popped up as if he could understand my thoughts, and he hopped off the bed and bounced down the stairs. Don’t start packing yet, boy.
I had just finished getting ready when I heard the front door close. Finally, I could go back downstairs.
When I walked into the kitchen, I saw my dad holding onto the front of the sink, his shoulders hunched over and his head lowered toward his chest. He let out a big sigh, turned on the water, and started washing the coffee mugs. I stood in the doorway and watched him in silence. I wondered how many times he’d stood at that sink, washing the dishes from a meal Mom had cooked for us. A mug slipped from his hands and slammed against the porcelain sink, cracking down the side. I gasped as the weight he had been carrying for the past week fell to the ground, and he couldn’t stop crying, clutching the sink as if to hold himself up.
“Daddy!” I called and ran to his side. “Daddy, it’s okay. It’s okay.”
I’d never seen my dad cry before, and for someone as sensitive and loving as him, I wondered how he was able to keep his tears inside for so long. We somehow made our
way to the floor and cried together, both of us finally understanding that my mom wasn’t ever coming back.
“I need some air, Leah,” my dad managed to say through heavy breaths. “I’m gonna take a walk alone.”
“Okay, Daddy,” I replied.
After about an hour, my dad returned. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were red and swollen and his face was streaked with devastation.
“Dad, let me cook you some breakfast.”
“Okay, pumpkin,” he obliged. He took a seat at the table and grabbed the paper.
I opened the fridge and was surprised to find it fully stocked again. Yesterday, it was almost empty. Perks of owning a grocery store, I supposed. I gathered the ingredients for the eggs and hash and started cooking.
“Hey, Dad,” I called, looking over my shoulder. “Runny or scrambled for the eggs?”
“Umm, runny,” he answered.
I smiled, happy to be able to do this for him, and I hoped I was able to make it as great as my mom always had. I didn’t know if he was thinking of her in that moment, but I wanted to at least bring some sense of normalcy to this house and help ease his pain a little bit.
Once I finished cooking, I tossed the pans into the sink and brought the plates over to my dad. I had to shoo Gnocchi off my seat so I could sit down, but I smiled at him and patted my lap, inviting him to come back. He looked at me with annoyance and went into the den instead. I rolled my eyes and started to eat.
“Yum, I haven’t had this in so long,” I announced. “I usually don’t have time to cook breakfast in the mornings, so I just eat oatmeal quickly or grab something on the way to the office.”
“I can’t imagine you not cooking yourself breakfast,” he replied, looking at me quizzically. “You woke up early every day senior year to cook for yourself even when your mother offered to make it for you.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want her to have to do that. Besides, I love cooking. I should try to cook more when I get back to the city.”
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