Respect

I jumped from the warm blankets and hurried toward the bathroom. With the door partially opened, I found Angelina kneeling on the floor, a dampened towel in her hand.

  “What?”

  Her eyes opened wide just before her face scrunched in pain.

  I fell to my knees. The floor was slippery yet sticky. “What is it?”

  “I think it was my water.”

  “Your water?”

  “Oren, my water broke. Our baby’s coming.”

  I couldn’t imagine what it was like to give birth. All I knew with some certainty was that watching the woman you love, the person who means the most to you in this world, in pain was possibly one of the worst experiences of my adult life—and it had a lot of competition.

  I’d go without sleep. I’d drive Vincent to a location, knowing that I didn’t want to see what happened within. I’d sit under the dark stare of Carmine Costello. Hell, I’d do anything, sell anything, or buy anything, to take away her pain.

  “Mio angelo,” I said, hours after we’d arrived at the hospital, holding her hand and standing beside the hospital bed in her delivery room. “Take the epidural. Please, I don’t want you to hurt.”

  Perspiration covered her face as I used a cool cloth to wipe her forehead.

  She shook her head. “I can’t. It’s too late now. They say I’m too far.”

  I’d taken the classes, well most of them. I understood the biology, but if there was medicine to help her, one that didn’t hurt the baby, why couldn’t she have it? They’d offered it to her earlier, but now it was obvious her pain was worse. “What do you mean, too far?”

  Her grip of my hand intensified.

  There was a wide belt around her midsection, its purpose to measure things within. The baby’s heart rate was on a television screen as well as a Richter kind of chart, similar to one that measured seismic activity. Currently, the little line was going up and up.

  “That’s it, Mrs. Demetri,” the nurse said. “You’re doing great. This is a big contraction.”

  Angelina didn’t answer as her face turned red, and she continued her vise grip of my hand.

  “Why can’t she have the epidural? They said in those classes it would help?” I’d been to enough of the classes to pick up a few things.

  “Mr. Demetri, your wife is already eight centimeters dilated. If things progress as we expect, an epidural won’t have time to work. Besides, when it’s time, she needs to be able to push.”

  “Then give her something else, something that can work.”

  Angelina’s grip loosened as she took deep breaths. “No. I don’t want anything that will pass through the placenta.”

  I should have paid better attention in those classes. Hell, I should have attended all of them. She and the nurse were speaking a different language, using words I’d heard, but was without complete knowledge of their meanings.

  “I’m ready to push,” Angelina said.

  “Not yet.”

  Another nurse came in the room with a bowl of ice chips. Handing it to me, she said, “Here. These will help.”

  “Ice?” I truly was a college- and street-educated man, but at that moment, synapses weren’t firing. “Why ice?”

  “Give them to me,” Angelina said, the tips of her lips trying to smile.

  “Okay.” I handed her the bowl.

  She shook her head. “No, one at a time.”

  If I’d been a cartoon, a small light bulb would have illuminated over my head. “Oh.” I pulled the chair closer to her side and lifted one small chip, more like a half moon, to her lips. I hadn’t noticed how dry and parched they’d become.

  Angelina moaned as she sucked the ice between her lips.

  I’m not sure how they expected things to progress. Because despite the nurse claiming we didn’t have time, we went on with ice chips and contractions for what seemed like hours, or maybe it was days. I lost track of time as her pains grew increasingly stronger, only to fade away for a while, allowing her a few minutes of sleep. And then they’d come back even stronger. Finally, the nurse said what we’d been waiting to hear.

  “It’s time. We’ll call the doctor.”

  If the beginning of Angelina’s labor felt like time stood still, the next hour happened in record time. If I could have changed places with her at any moment, I believe I would have, and yet I don’t know if I could do what I watched her do.

  The weaker sex.

  That’s what they call women. I’m most certain that whoever has said that has not watched as a small human entered this world by leaving a supposed ‘weaker’ person’s body. I knew men who could handle almost anything, yet I’d bet not one of them could do what she did.

  In that moment, I understood why the church called children gifts from God.

  The whole thing was a miracle and amazing.

  I held Angelina’s hand, wiped her brow, and said anything I could think to say as the doctor said the words we both wanted and dreaded.

  “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Demetri, you have a son.”

  “A son,” my wife said as tears descended her cheeks.

  “A healthy son,” the doctor confirmed. “Look at him.”

  Our son announced his arrival to everyone within an eight-mile radius, his cry ringing loud and strong.

  “A son with healthy lungs,” one of the nurses said with a smile.

  Barely cleaned, wrapped in a thin blanket, our son was laid in my wife’s arms by another nurse.

  It was a moment in time that I’ll never forget. Never in all my life had I been prouder and at the same time more terrified.

  All I could think about was the conversation between Vincent and Carmine, the plans they had for Luca. The prospect was stifling while at the same time my heart was bursting.

  I reached out as a tiny hand came up and grabbed my finger.

  Angelina laughed as tears continued to flow. “Lennox, that’s your dad, and I’m your mom.”

  His light eyes stared up at her. I’d read somewhere that babies can’t focus too far away, yet as soon as she spoke, he seemed to zero in on his mother. It made sense. He’d been hearing her voice for nine months.

  “Hello, Lennox,” I said. “Welcome to the world.”

  “We’re going to keep you safe,” Angelina professed as he continued to stare upward.

  “Or die trying.” My response was only whispered, but my wife heard it. My son heard it.

  Like the movie about Moses.

  So let it be said, so let it be done. That may not be a direct quote. I may have paraphrased, but the meaning was sincere.

  “Lennox Demetri,” I said, thinking how I wished my parents could meet the next generation of Demetris. “We vow to give you more.”

  “We love you,” Angelina said.

  A while later, they moved Angelina to her own room. I stood back and watched as the nurses helped her move to the new bed. She’d told them that we wanted Lennox in the room with us. He was there, all bathed and sleeping in a clear tiny box of a bed on wheels. All we could see was his little face. He was mostly covered by a blanket. They had a small blue cap over his dark hair and little white mittens without thumbs on his hands.

  As I stared, I longed to remove the mittens. I was fascinated by his hands. His fingers were long and strong with perfect small fingernails. I’d felt his strength in the way he gripped my finger, and at that moment, I knew what Vincent meant about Luca being strong. Lennox would also be strong.

  With her long hair flowing over her shoulders, I was once again enthralled with my wife. She’d recently given birth to a nearly eight-pound baby boy, and she was radiant. Her smile was everything as she looked from Lennox up to me.

  The nurse pulled the covers up to Angelina’s waist. “You have guests, Mrs. Demetri. However, it’s late. I’d recommend only two at a time.”

  The sky outside the window was black. It was true that at this time of year, the number of daylight hours were fewer; however, as Lennox came into the world, we’d essentiall
y missed the entire day: December 16th, our son’s birthday.

  “I can go get them,” I volunteered.

  Angelina smiled and shooed me out.

  At first, I didn’t pay attention to my surroundings; my mind was too consumed with the day’s events. I supposed in some way I rationalized that this was a hospital, not a deserted street. Admittedly, as I left Angelina, my guard was down.

  That all changed as I turned the corner and found a private waiting area with Stefano and Franco stationed outside the door. Nodding at them, I opened the door. Inside, Carmine, Vincent, Bella, Luca, and Rose were all gathered.

  “Oren!” Bella and Rose called in unison as they both rose from their seats.

  Though my gut told me something had happened—something big—I kept my smile in place for them. “We have a son.”

  Everyone’s smiles grew as congratulations came from all around the room. Bella and Rose hugged me while Carmine and Vincent shook my hand and patted my back.

  “Take the women to Angelina first. They want to see and cackle,” Carmine said. “And then, Oren, return to us.”

  I did as Carmine instructed, gesturing to Rose and Bella to follow me beyond the visiting area to the restricted-access ward. All the way through the hallways, Rose asked me questions about the birth. As we approached Angelina’s door, I noticed a man I recognized standing just beyond her room. He was another of the Costello soldiers, yet I couldn’t comprehend why he was here.

  “What...?” I said, more to myself than to anyone.

  Rose patted my hand. “Go. She’s safe. So is your son. Carmine will explain.”

  My gut churned as I nodded at the man and left the women alone. The hallway back to the small waiting room grew with each step; trepidation overwhelmed me as I forced my body forward. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the birth. Perhaps I’d used it all, yet a part of me knew that whatever I learned would be life altering.

  As I opened the door and stepped in, both Vincent and Carmine turned my way.

  “There was a meeting tonight, a dinner,” Carmine began without any preamble. “The one I mentioned. We were talking. All of the bosses were invited—even Ricardo. Just the five of us and our seconds.” Carmine tilted his head toward Vincent, who was not only his son but also the Costello underboss. “At Sparks Steak House on East 46th Street...”

  I knew the place. It was pricey and nice. It was where people went to impress. I’d taken prospective clients there for business and also taken Angelina there before we were married. In the world we were treading, it was a bold move, perhaps meant as a statement to the feds or the underlings. It was a sign of unity. Sparks was in the heart of the city, not an out-of-the-way place for the five heads of the families to meet. And then...my knees weakened, and I fell into a vinyl chair as I listened to the rest of the story.

  As Carmine spoke, my blood raced, dimming his tone. The internal struggle was real. This was the world my son had been born into. This was our reality, and at that moment, I knew that our future couldn’t be more unclear.

  I listened as Carmine’s deep voice spoke steadily.

  Gioconda had driven him and Vincent to the dinner. They arrived at the steak house by five-thirty. The meeting slash dinner wasn’t scheduled until six o’clock, yet most of the bosses were present. Although the meeting itself was to cover the heroin mess of the Luchis, the atmosphere was joyous. After all, it was nearly Christmas...and Carmine admitted he was in good spirits, knowing that Angelina was in labor. He was anxious to get the gathering done and come to the hospital.

  With the other four bosses already inside, a bodyguard drove Paulie Castellano, the head of one of the biggest families, to the meeting. His underboss had recently died of cancer. Carmine said that some of those in attendance at the steak house were theorizing about who Paulie would name to that recently vacated position. It needed to be someone he trusted. After all, Castellano had just recently had his own brush with the law and been released from jail on an astronomical bond. He needed someone who could take the helm if he were sentenced for a stay in the big house that could last longer than a while.

  At 5:45 pm, Paulie’s bodyguard pulled his Lincoln up to the front door of the restaurant. It was a no-parking zone, but that didn’t stop Big Paulie. He dined at Sparks often and was accustomed to the royal treatment.

  This would be different.

  Without any prelude, three assassins dressed like Russians with long off-white coats and fur hats opened fire on Castellano and his bodyguard as they exited their car. It wasn’t an ambush in a back alley. This was a blatant assassination in the heart of New York City, on East 46th Street.

  Carmine was now seated, his head moving from side to side. “They say he was hit over six times. In the goddamn street.” His volume fluctuated. “Hit in his body and head. There are already pictures.

  “The cops, they covered up Big Paulie, but not his guard. The pigs just left him lying there.” Carmine’s head continued to shake. “Nine years that Paulie’s been in charge of his family, and nobody challenged him. And now...”

  “Oh my God.” It was all I could say. It was a good thing that Angelina and I had been busy all day and not eaten. If I had, I feared I’d have gotten ill right there in the waiting room.

  “It was a shock to everyone,” Carmine said.

  There were probably no two men in the world whom I respected more than the two before me. In the last year, I’d watched and learned. I’d seen both of them face adversaries with a cool, calm demeanor—that manner, in reality, was more frightening than anger. Yet tonight, on the day of my son’s birth, they were both visibly shaken and with ample reason.

  My mind continually went to Lennox. A Demetri, but also a Costello.

  “I need to tell Angelina,” I said.

  “Bella and Rose know. But they won’t say anything. You’re her husband. The timing is up to you.” Carmine nodded. “She needs to know, to understand the increased security and need for safety.”

  The knots in my stomach twisted. Closing my eyes, I saw her smile as she looked from Lennox to me. I didn’t want to sully her joy. “I agree. However, if you agree, I’d like it to wait for a little while. Let her enjoy today. Let her enjoy Lennox.”

  Carmine nodded. “A good name, a strong name, a fighter...Lennox Cost—” He stopped. “No, Lennox Demetri.”

  “Yes.”

  “A powerful name for a powerful man. That’s what we need.”

  I said a silent prayer that my son would be a strong and powerful man but not for the wrong reasons.

  Chapter 16

  I managed to keep the recent turn of events from Angelina while we were secluded in her hospital room. Since the childbirth, she’d been worn out, allowing us to avoid the television and concentrating instead on Lennox when she was awake. Along with the biggest bouquet of brightly colored daisies I could find, I brought her favorite cassettes and Walkman from home, hoping to avoid the radio as well. All it would’ve taken was her turning on either one—the TV or radio—for only a moment or two to learn what I knew was better for her to hear from me.

  That didn’t mean I was anxious to tell her and burst her bubble of happiness.

  Yet with each passing moment, my time was running out. The news of Big Paulie’s assassination was everywhere.

  When I was outside her room, I saw the pictures Carmine had mentioned, the ones of the car, the covered body of the don, and the uncovered one of Bilotti. There were televisions in the waiting rooms, near the nurses’ stations, and even in the hallways. Every time I left her room, it seemed as if there was another special bulletin.

  I wasn’t sure what strings Carmine pulled to have around-the-clock protection for Angelina’s room, but I was glad he did. She wanted Lennox with her, and I concurred. They were both under the watchful eye of not only me, but also Costello soldiers.

  While the reprieve from life that we found within the pale walls of her hospital room was nice, unfortunately, it was short-lived. My recent conv
ersation with Carmine ran loops through my head.

  Angelina and Lennox had been cleared as healthy and ready for release, which meant one thing: we needed to leave.

  As we gathered all of Lennox’s things—gifts and flowers had arrived nonstop—instead of facing the reality awaiting us, I bided my time by focusing on everything else. “How does one baby have so much stuff?” I asked, as we combined multiple small outfits into fewer bags, trying to consolidate the bounty.

  “The family is big.”

  Maybe not our blood family; however, for anyone within the Costello family at-large to not acknowledge Carmine Costello’s new grandnephew would be considered disrespectful. For all intents and purposes, Lennox’s birth was equivalent to the boss having another grandson. While that filled me with a mixture of emotion, it was the truth. It was also why Angelina needed to know what had happened.

  I listened as the nurse discussed Lennox’s feeding schedule and the need for another appointment with his pediatrician in a week. The doctor had been in to check on Lennox multiple times. While I knew I should be the one to accompany Angelina to see him again, in my heart I assumed it would be Franco driving them.

  My attention went to the window. Beyond the glass the view was filled with a mix of rain and snow. With the temperature dropping, snow would prevail. Within, the windowsill was overrun with multiple vases of flowers and plants. On the floor, was a collection of light-blue gift bags. As I assessed it all, I contemplated asking the soldier in the hallway to help carry some of it to the car. As I debated, Angelina began securing Lennox in his car seat, all dressed for his ride home in a brand new blue outfit with a small white bow tie. I shook my head at the outfit as she swaddled him in blankets, no doubt preparing for the cooler air outside.

  When the nurse left to go fetch a wheelchair—Angelina was doing well but it was something she’d said about hospital policy—I decided it was time to explain what my wife had missed. I was running out of time.

  Instead of a backdrop of peacefulness, the private hospital room filled with Lennox’s complaints as Angelina continued to buckle and strap him inside the seat, tucking the blankets around his moving legs. Her tired smile turned my way. “I don’t think he likes the car seat.”