Page 44 of Nine Years Gone

“Thank you, Marina,” I say to her. Marina and I grew up together here in the neighborhood. We went to St. John’s together, and after high school, Marina went off to Boston University for her undergrad before going to medical school at Tufts. As long as I’ve known her, she’s always talked about being a doctor, and here she is, treating my mother.

“I’m sorry, Massimo,” she says to me. “I’ve known your mother since we were kids, and she’s a wonderful woman. She’ll be greatly missed by many,” she says. “Is it okay if I let my mother know that your mom isn’t well? I know she’d like to come say goodbye.”

“You don’t even have to ask that.”

“Since I’m her doctor, I just want to make sure. Massimo, again, I’m sorry. I wish there were more I could do for her.” She embraces me, her arms tight around me, offering comfort.

“Thank you, Marina. Truly. You’ve been a great doctor, a good friend. We appreciate it more than you’ll ever know,” I tell her.

“Thanks, Massimo. Good night.” She quietly leaves through the front door.

My father is bawling, eyes red and swollen. “What am I gonna do without her? She’s all I know. Forty-eight years we’ve been married.”

“I don’t know, Pa. But she’s still here. Why don’t you go sit with her? She likes it when you tell her stories.”

“She can’t see me like this. Why don’t you go in with her, and I’ll be there in a few.”

My mother lies in her bed, blankets tucked just below her chin. She’s frail, thin, her cheeks are sunken in, and her glasses look too big for her face. She has no hair left on her head, which is now covered in a red skully cap to keep her head warm. Classical music plays softly in the background.

I love music because of my mother. No matter what she was doing or where we were, there was always music playing, whether classical, opera, or her favorite Italian musicians.

“Hi, Ma.”

“Massimo come,siediti.” She pats her hand on the bed to her right.

I close the door behind me, settling on the bed, facing my mother.

“Figlio, Marina, she tell me I no have too much time.”

“I know. She told us too.”

“You need to be strong for your father. He no doing good, that’s why he sent you in here. He no want me to see him. You see how skinny he is? He’s no eat enough.”

“I know, Ma. I don’t want you to worry about him. We’ll all take care of him.” A tear leaks from my eye.

“And who take care of you, eh Massimo?” She lifts her hand, resting it on my cheek. “I won’t be here no more, Mammase ne va.” Those words from her mouth cause me to let out a sob, tears dripping from my eyes as I lie down on my left side to face her, wrapping my arms around her.

“I saw Lena today.”

“Lena? Where you see her?”

“I was at DeLuca’s before coming here, and I ran into her there.” My heartbeat quickens at the mention of Lena’s name.

“She talk with you?”

“No, not really. She was surprised to see me and ran out before I had the chance to say anything.”

“Massimo, you wait years to see her. No keep quiet now. You understand?” Her bony fingers pat my cheek. “You follow your heart. Camila, she’s a good mamma to my Lucio and Leandro but you no love her. I see in your eyes for long time now.La vita è corta. No waste any more time.”

My mother always knows what to say. She knows me better than anyone does, and I’ll miss her, our talks, and her giving me advice. I’ll even miss her scolding me because she often reminds me that I am still her little boy despite being a grown man. I am the man I am today because of her, the love she instilled in me, and the love she has given me.

“I love you, Ma. I’m not ready for you to leave yet. Lucio and Leandro are going to miss out on so many amazing memories with you.” The words are muffled amidst my weeping.

“Figlio mio. I already live my life, and I’m old. You still have long life to live with my boys.Ricordati, follow your heart.Ti amo,” she tells me, her hand rubbing my arm, consoling me.

At that moment, my father comes into the bedroom. I lift my head and see my mother attempting to raise hers. “Nino,” she says, her smile lines blending with the wrinkles across her hollow cheeks.

I get up from the bed, kiss my mother, and give them privacy. I’m starving and go into the kitchen to grab something to eat. I find pizza from Umberto’s and warm it up. I’m at the kitchen table eating when the boys come storming through the door.

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