sink. Drowning in the harrowing seconds that continued to pass since he had died.
I didn’t know what to do without him.
So, I did nothing.
“I remember your father bringing a dozen pizzas down to the station after 9/11,” Jason, a retired NYPD officer, said. “He was always supportive, always there for the community. This city won't be the same without him.”
I nodded, keeping the painful smile plastered to my face. “He was a great guy.”
“He really was. I'm just so sorry for your loss, man. If you need anything, you let us know, all right? We got your back.”
“Thanks a lot. I appreciate it.”
I shook his hand and he moved along, offering a hug to my red-eyed sister. Zach stood on the other side of me, engaging in emotional conversation, and I began to wonder if maybe I should've mustered up a few tears.
“Hey,” Andy said, squeezing my hand. I peeled my eyes away from Jason and my sister to look at my girlfriend, and she asked, “How are you holding up?”
I shrugged, trying to buy some time to decide what was appropriate to say. “Hangin' in there, I guess.”
She searched my eyes with concern. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I told her, nodding a little too profusely. “It's all good.”
I tucked my thumbnail between my teeth and began to chew. Because the truth was, it wasn't all good. I could look at my brother and sister and clearly see how I should act and feel. How I should be holding it together. But I was so far from feeling that way, I was practically on another planet.
The next morning, at the cemetery, we laid roses on our father's casket. First, Jenna, then Zach. They cried unabashedly, whispering their final goodbyes to the wooden box, before hurrying off to cry in the arms of their waiting significant others. I kept a watchful eye over them, so acutely aware of my jealousy and anger as it took control. I imagined the homes they were retreating to. The distractions and all the fucking hope they would find within those walls, and all I could think was, what the hell do I have? I hadn't been to the apartment since Pops had died. I'd been staying at Jenna's house, for no other reason than to avoid the inevitable. But now, I knew I needed to go home. I needed to throw out the rotten milk. I needed clean clothes. I needed to face the loneliness I was sure to find there and the reality that he wasn't coming home.
“Vinnie?” It was Andy and she was pulling me gently to lay the clenched and crumpled rose in my hand on the casket. “Come on, I'll go with you.”
The tiniest bit of emotion tugged at my throat. This woman had stayed by my side ever since that night in the hospital. She had only left to sleep at her house, just a few miles away from Jenna's place on Long Island, and then, she would return in the morning. She had called out of work and put her own life on hold and what had I ever done to deserve that? This type of affection and devotion? I hadn't tried, I hadn't done anything, but there she was, and I hated myself for not being more grateful.
I took the rose and with more care than I thought I could muster, laid it gently against the enameled mahogany. The white petals were a stark contrast on the dark wood, and I stared as one wrinkled petal dropped away from the others to lay alone on the glossy surface. And that hurt. All at once, it hurt so fucking much that the last thing I'd ever give to my father, had broken, right at the moment I gave it to him. I felt that hurt so deep in my chest, pressed firm and unrelenting against my heart, that I struggled to breathe as Andy gently lured me away.
We came to stand with my siblings, a couple of feet away from the casket, suspended over his final resting place. They had decided to open Famiglia Bella for lunch, free for anybody who wanted to attend and honor our father.
“Moe's over there now, getting things ready,” Jenna said, red-eyed and snotty.
I nodded. “Cool.”
“Are you up for this?” Andy whispered, as we walked back to her car.
“Why wouldn't I be?” I glared at her across the top of the silver sedan.
“I mean, if you just wanted to relax or, I dunno ...”
“I'm fine,”