did it to protect us, for whatever fuckin’ reason. And it’s because of that, that I forgive you.” He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, as he went on, “And I don’t blame you, okay? I mean, yes, choices I made were affected by the shit in my life, but that’s the thing, Pops—they were choices I made. You once asked me why I decided to get into drugs, and I didn’t really answer. Not truthfully, anyway. Andy asked me, too, and I told her it was to escape the shit in my life. And the truth is, yeah, it was for an escape, but it wasn’t ‘cause of the shit in my life. I mean, my life, all things considered, was pretty good. But it was the shit in my head I needed to get away from, and that, you had no control over. I don’t blame you for that, and I don’t blame myself for it, either. But I own it. I wasn’t ready to do that before, but I own the fuck out of it now. I’m sorry you had to put up with all of my bullshit while I got there. I’m sorry I put you through hell. I’m sorry I wasn’t more grateful for everything you did and all of the sacrifices you made for us. I mean, man, I bitched and moaned about giving up my life to take care of you, but shit …” His voice rose an octave as he shook his head and my heart creaked and splintered under the weight of it. “I’m such an asshole for not realizing everything you gave up, to take care of me.”
He held a hand over his eyes and finally broke against his palm. As he wept, Vincent spoke in a montage of pictures. All showing me Vinnie’s accomplishments. Him leaving rehab the first and second time. Working at his pizzeria and buying Vincenzo’s. Selling their place in Brooklyn. Moving out of the apartment they shared in the city and moving into this one on his own. Marrying me. The things he was there for, in person and in spirit. Things that lifted my heart with light and triumph. And after that mental scrapbook, there was only one thing to say.
“He’s proud of you,” I interpreted, reaching out and placing my hand on Vinnie’s shoulder. “For everything you’ve accomplished. And you’ve accomplished a lot.”
Vinnie laughed, swiping the back of his hand beneath his nose. “Death turned the old man into a sappy motherfucker, huh?”
Nodding, Vincent stepped forward and laid a hand over Vinnie’s arm. Vinnie shuddered at the touch, and I asked, “Do you feel that?” He nodded erratically.
Vincent pressed his hand to his son’s chest and passed along a message. “He says, ‘I love you, Junior,’” I croaked, the words nearly dying in my throat, but I still managed to choke them out in a quiet burst of emotion.
Vinnie exhaled, as a fresh tear trickled down his cheek and onto the floor at his feet, and said, “Yeah, old man. I love you, too. And you don’t gotta worry about me anymore. All right? I’m gonna be okay.”
The twinkle in Vincent’s eyes told me he believed every word, and with a slight nod of his head, he turned from his youngest son to look at me.
The emotions bubbled up from my heart and into my throat, remembering the promise I had made to him. Knowing that I'd allowed his son to spiral, and for us both to slip into the darkness without any attempt to find the light until it was too late. So, what right did I have to stand here now, presenting the gift of comfort and reconnection? I was a failure, and I didn't deserve his forgiveness, when all I was supposed to do in the first place, was make sure that his son was okay.
But Vincent reached out with a gentle hand, brushing his weightless thumb against my cheek. He shook his head and reminded me of that image and premonition, of Vinnie, lifeless on the floor. He reminded me of the phone call I had made, of how I'd saved him in the nick of time. Of how I'd loved him enough to take what I'd been given and save his life. He shook his head, controlling my tears with the silent command, and I closed my eyes and nodded.
I'd like to think, that after we had parted ways outside of Regina Miller’s