Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“It’s his blood pressure. The doctor said he has to take it easy.”
“He said slow down,” my father corrects. “How are you doin’, Punkin’?”
“I’m worried. But at least, now we know what it is.”
“How’d you get here?” Tom casually asks. Who’s he trying to fool? We all know this is a well planned hunting expedition.
“Cal brought me.” Silence falls like a lead balloon.
“Angel, I could really use a freshly squeezed orange juice.”
My mother gets out of her seat. “Anything else, Dear?”
“A rib eye steak and fries.”
“I’ll be right back with the orange juice. Cami, you want anything?”
“No, I’m good, Ma, thanks.”
My mother grabs her purse and exits. We both watch her go, a soft affectionate smile lingering on my father’s face. “God, I love your mother.”
“I know, Dad.” My entire life, that’s never been in question. Growing up with these two lovebirds was mortifying when I was a kid. As an adult, I’ve always envied them.
He looks at me pointedly. “You know how your mother and I fell in love.”
At this, I’m ready to poke my eyes out. “Not again, Dad, please. I’ve heard the story a million times.”
“No, you haven’t.” At the serious inflection in his voice, my eyes snap to his. “We never told you about Liz Infantini.”
“Who the heck is Liz Infantini?”
“The reason your mother and I fell in love.”
“Huh?”
“Liz was the girl every guy in the neighborhood wanted.”
“Am I going to hate this story?”
“Patience. Now where was I…Liz, right. Young. Old. It didn’t matter. One look at Liz and they all fell like dominos.” I sit on the end of his bed, so taken by the story by knees turn weak. “Guys went at her hard. Flowers, expensive gifts. Tony Bartorelli offered her a ten day all expense paid trip to Jamaica. Liz wouldn’t have any of them. Me, I liked Liz, really liked her. I mean…five ten, a body like Sophia Loren, auburn hair like Rita Hayworth––”
“Alright, Dad. Stay on topic.”
“Anyway, I was a good lookin’ kid. You’re beautiful and I had something to do with that.” Tom isn’t exaggerating. I’ve seen enough pictures. Blunt and even masculine features coupled with large dark eyes and a blinding white grin. My dad was handsome.
“But I was shy. I didn’t know how to talk to her, so I didn’t…until she talked to me.” Dad takes a deep breath. “It lasted a year. I was crazy about her. Then, right after graduation, she dumped me for Eddy Wachoski. I enlisted in the Navy and that was that.”
“You’re going somewhere with this, right?”
“Patience. We docked in New York for two days. My mood was still in the dumps. My buddies insisted I hit the bars with them. I said I would, but first I wanted a really good slice of pizza, so we headed to Little Italy to get a bite to eat before we made the rounds. That’s when I spotted your mother…beautiful, not in the same way Liz was, in her own way. She reminded me of an angel.” The dreamy look my father gets on his face makes me smile. “The line for the pizza joint wrapped around the block. We were all on line, waiting to be served, when my buddy started speaking to her friend.
“The first thing I said to your mother was that I just broke up with my girlfriend and I wasn’t ready to start something new. She said she understood. We waited on that line for forty minutes. We talked the whole time. And after we ate, she scribbled her address on a paper napkin and said––to my dying day I’ll never forget this–– ‘I know your heart is broken, but a man that can love that deeply is a man worth having as a friend. If you ever get lonely, write me a letter and I’ll write you back.’”
The wet glaze in my father’s eyes is almost too much for me to bear, my throat closing up.
“That’s how the letters began?” I say, shocked out of my Converse All-Stars.
Nodding, a soft smile gracing his lips, Dad says, “That’s how the letters began. I was nowhere ready in my head to fall in love again. But something in my gut told me to take that paper napkin. Take it and keep it. I listened to my gut instinct. I didn’t let my head talk me out of it…I would’ve lost the best thing to ever happen to me if I had.”
I fight the tears trying to sneak out of the corners of my eyes.
“What are you getting at, Dad?”
“You might not be ready now. But don’t let your head talk you out of anything your gut tells you.”
Two days later spring explodes onto the scene. It’s well in the seventies so Sam and I decide to go to the park. On our way out, I grab the basketball. New discovery: Sam is surprisingly good at it. I’ve been working on getting him to open up, to engage the other boys at the park. Unfortunately, I’ve made very little progress and it’s been bothering me.