“Okay, come let’s make some pizza.” Mama smiled trying to break-up our heart wrenching moment. I choked on my emotions and coughed to release some air, and then I followed Mama into the kitchen, realizing that I was going to need to actually watch her make pizza this time because it may be our last chance, and my last chance to learn her secret recipe.
“Okay, Bella,” Mama said, calling me ‘beautiful’ in Italian. It was her nickname for me. She pulled out a large bag of flour and got the mixing bowls and cheese ready. “Joe you grate the cheese, sweetheart,” Mama said patting him on the back. Making pizza shouldn’t be this sad but it was. I wanted to cry, the tears were so close to making an appearance, but I wouldn’t break down, not when Mama was being so brave. I didn’t want to make her cry, I wanted her to be strong, maybe the doctors were wrong, and maybe my Mama could win this battle. I looked over to Joe knowingly; we were both working hard to hold our tears.
“Don’t be sad kids. I’ve had a good life and look at the legacy I’m leaving behind. I couldn’t have asked for better children. You are both so loving and caring, you’re going to do fine without me,” she said with a soft tone, but there it was, my breaking point, the words I’d been running away from in my head. ‘We’ll be fine without her.’ No, I wouldn’t be fine without her, I’d always come to her for advice, I looked up to her, I wanted her to be there the day I got married, I wanted her to see me through childbirth. I needed her, damn it. As I was rolling the dough with my hands I couldn’t take it anymore. I broke.
“I’m sorry Mama.” I rubbed my dough filled hands along my jeans making them white and sticky, but I needed to get out of there. I couldn’t take any of this, I could not think of a life without her.
“Bella!” Mom called after me. I didn’t want to leave her, but I needed my space.
“Vicky, come back!” Joe called out. I couldn’t turn around; my mind was in overdrive, drowning in grief. I grabbed the keys for the Tracker off the small table in the entryway. I’d plunged into darkness and I could barely see straight. I ran straight out the front door. My hands were so jittery I could barely get the key in the hole to open the driver’s door. It finally slid in and I turned the key, opening the door, and falling into the driver's seat. I needed to get out of here. I ripped out of my driveway, skidding the tires. I didn’t know where to go or who to tell; I barely knew my own name. It was freezing outside and I begin to shake as I was driving, the cold was numbing. I didn’t want to remember Mama’s words. There is no life without her. I’d pushed Riley away, but for some reason I needed Jamie, my boyfriend, my first love. We’d been together since grade eleven, and after four years he was the only one I could go to right now, the only one who might understand me. He lost his mother when he was five, only she didn’t get sick, she just left him behind. He must understand what I’m going through, he must.
It was mid-afternoon and I assumed he was at work, so I drove slowly to the mechanic shop not wanting to get pulled over by any police. Jamie worked for his father. He’d been working there as a mechanic since we graduated from high school and he got his mechanic degree. I was hoping that Jamie would be more reasonable than my family who had clearly lost it. I couldn’t understand how they were all taking this sitting down. There must be a way to fight this dumbass cancer. I pulled into the shop taking the turn a little too fast and coming to an abrupt stop. The garage door was closed, but the place should be open, I walked up to the front door noticing the Open sign hanging on the door. The blue Mustang Jamie usually drove was parked out front. He must be around here somewhere.
I opened the front door shaking from the cool fall air, there was no one at the reception desk, which was strange. Usually there was a young woman, Annabelle, there to greet customers. I opened the door leading to the garage work area when I noticed a black pickup truck shaking back and forth. Jamie must be working on it and hadn’t heard me come through the door. I walked around the side, but nothing could prepare my eyes for the sight before me, Jamie with his jeans and boxers down to his ankles and Lily Sanders with her legs wrapped around him. My heart nosedived into my stomach. Once again, the comfortable rug that I used to walk through life had been pulled out from under my feet.
“Fuck,” I gritted out.
Hearing my voice caused him to lift his head out from Lily’s neck and snapped back toward me. He instantly stopped pounding into her, his hands falling slack beside his body, he pushed Lily off him and took a few slow steps back, his damned dick flailing around. I thought I was going to be sick, the bile rose in my throat.
“Shit, sorry, Vick,” Lily called out adjusting her very slutty skirt.
I turned to walk out of there because I think I may have frozen for a moment, this was turning out to be the worst day of my life. “Stop!” Jamie called out, trying to reach for me. I pulled my arm away disgusted, not wanting to have any contact with him what-so-ever.
“Dammit it, Vick, I screwed up, would you stop for a minute,” Jamie said, running after me, I quickly turned my head to notice that he had the time to pick up his boxers and jeans. He reached for my arm again, but I pulled it away, not wanting his slimy hands anywhere near me. I got back into the Tracker and slammed the door shut. Jamie flinched back from the force of it.
Then I peeled out of the mechanic shop parking lot, my life a blur. How and when did this happen? My mom was only thirty-eight years old, this can’t be right. With nowhere to go and nothing to look forward to I realized that I’d lost hope.
Chapter 8
Vicky
Present
After a long afternoon and evening walking around the fascinating streets of Manhattan, my feet were sore and I felt exhausted. Back in the motel I switched on the television, hoping to lie back and watch a movie, maybe even fall asleep. Yesterday was a long day between traveling to New York and attending the sex party. As I flipped through the channels there was nothing to watch, so I sent a text message to my brother.
Are you there, Joe?
Of course there was no answer.
Dammit Joe, answer me now…
Still no answer and I huffed out a long breath. He went back to London to complete his kinesiology degree after Mama passed away. Then he spent two days at home watching Papa drinking himself into a stupor until he passed out, only to watch him repeat the routine. He blew up at him and told him he would take him to AA but Papa refused, nodding his head and pulling away from him. I knew Joe felt helpless. I had felt helpless the entire time I took care of Mama. Watching such a young woman die killed me slowly inside, and although Joe wasn’t around to watch the process, I knew he was hurting just as bad, especially since he looked up to Papa growing up. He was his superhero and then he fell apart. I think it ripped apart every belief he had his whole life.