“It’s your Pops, man. He’s dead.” He started bawling, hugging me as he did. “I’m sorry I had to tell you like this.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I ran down the street, tears already forming. “No.” I ran all the way down Clayton Street until I hit our block. Rosa was waiting to intercept me. I should have known she’d never let me see Pops by myself.
I took the concrete steps from the street two at a time then raced up the walk. She grabbed me before I hit the door, wrapped her arms around me. “Nicky. Oh, Nicky. I’m so sorry.”
“Let me go, Mamma. I gotta see Pops.”
She opened the door, letting me inside. He lay there on the floor. Blank. Dead.
I ran to him, but it wasn’t Pops. It was just a lifeless body. I hugged him, but felt nothing. Kissed his forehead, but felt no warmth. After that, I cried. And cried.
I felt a presence. A hand on my back. When I turned, Rosa was there with tears in her eyes. I hugged her. “Mamma Rosa, what happened?”
“I was out back, and Dante called to me, but by the time I got in here, he was almost gone. He had a heart attack, Nicky.”
I couldn’t say anything. All I could do was cry.
The ambulance came and took him away. I kissed him goodbye as they loaded him on the stretcher. I wanted to ride with them, but they wouldn’t let me.
“It is time, Little Nicky. Come with me. We’ll call Jimmy.”
“Jimmy” was Jimmy Maldonaddo, the last of four boys who had inherited their father’s funeral business. They buried damn near everyone in the neighborhood, no matter what the nationality. I couldn’t let go, but Rosa insisted. Finally, I stood and walked out the door with her help.
By the time we got to her house, Tony and Angela were there. I hugged and cried with both of them. My two best friends. As I struggled with emotions, I heard Rosa in the background.
“Grief is the pain the heart needs to heal.” She was praying on a rosary as she said it.
I hugged her again. “What am I gonna do? Pops is gone.”
CHAPTER 18
A GATHERING OF FRIENDS
Wilmington—15 Years Ago
I stayed at Rosa’s house the first night, not wanting to be by myself. The next day, though, I went home. The furniture was still there, nothing had moved, but the house felt…empty. I shivered as I walked across the living room.
This was more than empty. Or maybe it was less than empty. It was lonely.
I noticed new things for the first time: the echoes of my shoes on the hardwood floor, how dark the rooms were when the lights went out, how deathly silent it was with the television off. I wondered what Pops must have felt like all those nights I spent at Tony’s. Pops here by himself, without mom. Loneliness must be the worst thing there was.
By two in the morning I still wasn’t sleeping, so I got dressed and went out. As I walked the hill a window opened in Bugs’ house. “Yo. Nicky. Hang on.”
A few minutes later, Bugs crept out the front door, lighting a smoke by the time he hit the street. He dragged hard on it, like he always did, then handed me one. “Sorry about your Pops, Nicky. Shit, that’s bad.”
Bugs wasn’t the best at offering condolences, but I knew he meant it, and he was a good friend. “Feel like walking?” I asked.
“I don’t care. I hate that house.”
We walked for a half a block in silence, then Bugs said, “Let’s see if Mick’s up.”
“You interested in Mick, or Patti?”
Bugs hit me. “Maybe the three of us could do something. You know, take your mind off things.”
“It’s two in the morning.” It was so ridiculous I almost laughed. Regardless, we went to Mick’s, tossed a few rocks at his window and eventually got him out.
The three of us roamed the streets for hours. Didn’t do shit. Just talked. Reminisced. Smoked. When we saw the Connor brothers delivering the morning papers, we knew it was time to go home. Damn near daylight anyway. As I walked in the house I realized that this was what having
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I ran down the street, tears already forming. “No.” I ran all the way down Clayton Street until I hit our block. Rosa was waiting to intercept me. I should have known she’d never let me see Pops by myself.
I took the concrete steps from the street two at a time then raced up the walk. She grabbed me before I hit the door, wrapped her arms around me. “Nicky. Oh, Nicky. I’m so sorry.”
“Let me go, Mamma. I gotta see Pops.”
She opened the door, letting me inside. He lay there on the floor. Blank. Dead.
I ran to him, but it wasn’t Pops. It was just a lifeless body. I hugged him, but felt nothing. Kissed his forehead, but felt no warmth. After that, I cried. And cried.
I felt a presence. A hand on my back. When I turned, Rosa was there with tears in her eyes. I hugged her. “Mamma Rosa, what happened?”
“I was out back, and Dante called to me, but by the time I got in here, he was almost gone. He had a heart attack, Nicky.”
I couldn’t say anything. All I could do was cry.
The ambulance came and took him away. I kissed him goodbye as they loaded him on the stretcher. I wanted to ride with them, but they wouldn’t let me.
“It is time, Little Nicky. Come with me. We’ll call Jimmy.”
“Jimmy” was Jimmy Maldonaddo, the last of four boys who had inherited their father’s funeral business. They buried damn near everyone in the neighborhood, no matter what the nationality. I couldn’t let go, but Rosa insisted. Finally, I stood and walked out the door with her help.
By the time we got to her house, Tony and Angela were there. I hugged and cried with both of them. My two best friends. As I struggled with emotions, I heard Rosa in the background.
“Grief is the pain the heart needs to heal.” She was praying on a rosary as she said it.
I hugged her again. “What am I gonna do? Pops is gone.”
CHAPTER 18
A GATHERING OF FRIENDS
Wilmington—15 Years Ago
I stayed at Rosa’s house the first night, not wanting to be by myself. The next day, though, I went home. The furniture was still there, nothing had moved, but the house felt…empty. I shivered as I walked across the living room.
This was more than empty. Or maybe it was less than empty. It was lonely.
I noticed new things for the first time: the echoes of my shoes on the hardwood floor, how dark the rooms were when the lights went out, how deathly silent it was with the television off. I wondered what Pops must have felt like all those nights I spent at Tony’s. Pops here by himself, without mom. Loneliness must be the worst thing there was.
By two in the morning I still wasn’t sleeping, so I got dressed and went out. As I walked the hill a window opened in Bugs’ house. “Yo. Nicky. Hang on.”
A few minutes later, Bugs crept out the front door, lighting a smoke by the time he hit the street. He dragged hard on it, like he always did, then handed me one. “Sorry about your Pops, Nicky. Shit, that’s bad.”
Bugs wasn’t the best at offering condolences, but I knew he meant it, and he was a good friend. “Feel like walking?” I asked.
“I don’t care. I hate that house.”
We walked for a half a block in silence, then Bugs said, “Let’s see if Mick’s up.”
“You interested in Mick, or Patti?”
Bugs hit me. “Maybe the three of us could do something. You know, take your mind off things.”
“It’s two in the morning.” It was so ridiculous I almost laughed. Regardless, we went to Mick’s, tossed a few rocks at his window and eventually got him out.
The three of us roamed the streets for hours. Didn’t do shit. Just talked. Reminisced. Smoked. When we saw the Connor brothers delivering the morning papers, we knew it was time to go home. Damn near daylight anyway. As I walked in the house I realized that this was what having
Similar Books
