“MARE, HOW DO YOU WORK THIS COFFEEMAKER? YOUR MOTHER WANTS TO KNOW!”
Mary looked in the kitchen to see her parents clustered around the Keurig coffeemaker, which stumped them because they still perked coffee on the stove the old-fashioned way. “Pop, I’ll be right in!”
“Let’s go meet Patrick.” Anthony straightened up, facing the kitchen.
“Wait, what happened in California?”
“MARE, WHAT ARE THESE PLASTIC THINGS?” her father hollered from the kitchen.
“We’ll talk about it later.” Anthony averted his gaze. “Take me in and introduce me.”
Mary started to reach for Anthony’s hand, but stopped herself, not wanting to force the issue as they entered the kitchen to find Patrick pulling a chair out from under the table, dragging it over to the Keurig coffeemaker on the counter, and climbing up on top of the chair. He picked up one of the K-cups, examining it under the admiring gaze of Mary’s mother, her father, and The Tonys.
“PATRICK, HOW DOES IT WORK?”
Mary didn’t think he had a Keurig coffeemaker at home, and in fact, she thought she remembered seeing an old Mr. Coffee coffeemaker there.
“The coffee must be inside this, Mr. DiNunzio,” Patrick answered, shaking the cup, then he found the lever on the coffeemaker and pressed it down, so that the top popped open.
“WOW! YOU’RE A GENIUS, KIDDO!”
The Tonys oohed and ahhed as if Patrick had performed magic, and Pigeon Tony clapped.
Patrick grinned, placing the K-cup inside the coffeemaker. “See? It goes in here, you can tell it fits right in.”
Mary whispered to Anthony, “He figured that out all by himself.”
Anthony whispered back, “Children with dyslexia can have superior logical reasoning. I read a book about it on the plane.”
“MARE, LOOK AT THIS KID GO!” Her father turned to her, grinning, and Mary realized that Patrick wouldn’t be able to read the word BREW on the coffeemaker. Her father must’ve understood the problem because he pointed to the BREW button. “PATRICK, THIS IS THE BUTTON TO START IT. IT’S THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE.”
“I see it!” Patrick pushed the button, then turned, his gaze shifting to Anthony.
“Patrick, great job!” Mary gestured to Anthony. “Meet Anthony, my fiancé. He lives here.”
“Hi, Patrick.” Anthony stepped over to Patrick, with a smile. “Welcome. We’re very happy to have you.”
“Thank you,” Patrick said, still standing on the chair. “I’m making coffee.”
“Good idea, I like coffee.” Anthony slipped a hand into the pocket of his sports jacket, retrieved a gift-wrapped package, and handed it to Patrick. “I got this little present for you. I thought you might like it.”
“Thank you,” Patrick said, accepting the gift.
Mary caught her mother’s eye, which looked suspiciously moist behind her thick glasses, and the adults fell uncharacteristically silent, mindful of the emotional subtext. Patrick tore off the gift wrap to reveal the gift, a travel chess set that Anthony must’ve gotten at the airport, which surprised Mary. She didn’t know Anthony liked chess, he’d never mentioned it before.
“What is it?” Patrick frowned at the package, which he couldn’t read.
“It’s a great game called chess. It’s fun and it’s been around for centuries. Kings and queens used to play it.”
“How do you play?”
“I’ll teach it to you. It’s easy. It has two sides that go to battle. One side wins.”
Patrick’s blue eyes lit up. “You mean, like armies?”
“Yes, exactly. Good for you.”
“Cool! Can we play it now?”
“Sure,” Anthony answered, pleased.
“Help me get down?” Patrick raised his arms, to Anthony.
“I gotcha, pal.” Anthony reached back, without hesitation.
And watching them both, Mary was never more in love with Anthony than at this very moment. She had put him in a terrible position, but he had stepped up for Patrick. She prayed they were still getting married, but now that they were foster parents, they would have to wait until after Patrick went to bed to talk.
Mary hoped her luck would hold.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Mary held Patrick’s hand as she walked him down the hall to his bedroom, their spare guest room, never used. It was ready because she’d run upstairs and put everything in place while Patrick played chess with Anthony, which had been a sweet success. After that, her parents and The Tonys had gone home amid a flurry of good-bye hugs and kisses, and it was already nine o’clock. She had no idea if that was a reasonable bedtime for a ten-year-old, but Patrick seemed exhausted and she couldn’t wait to talk to Anthony, who was in their room down the hall, unpacking.
“Did you have fun tonight?” Mary squeezed Patrick’s hand. In his other hand was the wallet and watch, which never left his possession the entire evening.
“Yes. I’m so full.”
“I hear that.” Mary smiled, knowing that Patrick would probably gain ten pounds in DiNunzio custody. “Did you like my family?”
“Yes, they’re silly. It was a lot of people. You have a big family.”
“They seem bigger because they’re so noisy.” Mary worried if he had felt overwhelmed. “By the way, I have a surprise for you when we get to your room.”
“More presents?” Patrick looked up with a grin.
“Not exactly. Here we go.” Mary smiled as they reached the bedroom and she flipped the light switch, revealing that she had laid out on Patrick’s new bed his artwork, pens, and pencils, as well as the photographs of Edward and Patrick’s mother, and Edward’s rosary.
“My comics!” Patrick ran to the bed, set down the wallet and watch, and started looking through his artwork.
“All your clothes are put away in the dresser drawers.” Mary gestured to the three-drawer pine dresser with a mirror on top, across the room next to a spare desk that Anthony had brought from home. “I set them up the same way you had them at home, to make it easy for you. Your other clothes and shoes are in the closet. I think I got everything you might want for now, and we’ll get the rest later.”
“It’s all here!” Patrick busied himself with the artwork. His bedroom was situated in the north corner of the house, so it had two large windows in the front and one on the side with blue paisley curtains. The walls were soft blue, and the floors were hardwood, with a bluish-gray rug under the double bed.
“I think we should get you to bed, Patrick. Why don’t you take your artwork and put it on the desk?”
“Okay.” Patrick obediently picked up the artwork and took it over to the desk, then came back for the pens and pencils. “It’s a big desk but I like it. I don’t need a little one anymore.”
“I agree.”
“Do you think we can get a ruler?”
“Yes, tomorrow we’ll go shopping and get you whatever you need.” Mary gestured at the bathroom. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“I have a bathroom in my room?” Patrick’s eyes widened, and Mary turned on the light in the bathroom, which she had stocked with clean towels, a fresh bar of soap, a new toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste.
“Yes, it’s all yours. Look.”
“Wow!” Patrick scampered over and looked inside, his mouth dropping open at the simple white tiled bathroom. “This is for me? Where’s yours?”
“Anthony and I have our own, in our bedroom.”
“Everybody has their own bathroom?” Patrick turned around, his eyes even wider.
“Yes, that’s how we roll.” Mary smiled, remembering that her family had shared one bathroom when she was growing up. Since then, she’d gotten used to having her own bathroom, but Patrick’s delight reminded her of how happy and lucky she was, all over again.
“Do you want to go to the bathroom and then go to bed?”
“I don’t have to go to the bathroom.”
“But you have to wash your face and brush
your teeth.”
“I don’t do that at night. I only do it in the morning.”
“I think you’re supposed to do it at night, too.” Mary didn’t know whether to push it. She didn’t have her motherhood mojo in gear, and Patrick had already gone back to the bed and was picking up the wallet, watch, and picture of Edward. He set them on the night table beside his bed, then retrieved the photo of his mother, which he put next to the picture of Edward, and finally the rosary, which he draped carefully around the frame of Edward’s picture, sucking his lower lip for the first time that night.
Mary wondered if he would cry, but he didn’t, and her heart went out to him. “You okay, honey?” she asked softly, going over and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I have to say my prayers.”
“Okay.” Mary stood up. “Do you want me to stay or go?”
“Stay. I say them in my bed.” Patrick turned back the blue coverlet and jumped inside the bed fully clothed.
“Don’t you want to get undressed or put on pajamas? I can go out of the room.” Mary realized that she had no idea what she was doing. Maybe this motherhood gig was harder than it looked.
“Nope, it’s cold.” Patrick pulled the cover up to his chin, and Mary sat back down on the bed.
“Do you want me to lower the air-conditioning?”
“No, I like it. Where is the air conditioner? I don’t see one.” Patrick looked over at the windows, his head swiveling on the pillow.
“It’s central air-conditioning, that means it’s not in the window. It comes from the vents.”
“Am I going to my new school tomorrow?” Patrick sucked his lower lip.
“No, you’re not starting tomorrow, but I think we can go see what it’s like. How does that sound?” Mary hadn’t had a chance to get the deposit, but if Kate read the newspapers, she’d forgive her.
“You said the kids at the new school don’t know how to read.”
“Right, they’re just like you, and they’re learning to read because the teachers there know how to teach them differently.” Mary thought a moment. “You met my mother, you heard her speaking a different language, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“It was Italian, and she speaks Italian because she was never very good at learning English. She’s very smart, but she doesn’t speak the same language we do. She was never taught it, so she never learned it.” Mary went with the flow, seeing an analogy and hoping Patrick did, too. “See, you can be very smart but still not speak the same language as the people around you. That’s because everybody’s different. And it certainly doesn’t mean you’re dumb, because my mother’s very, very smart.”
Patrick seemed to be listening, so she continued.
“You’re going to like your new school and I think you’ll feel happier there. The kids there don’t make fun of other kids and they’ll be nicer to you. And the teachers will know how to teach you in a way that you’ll understand. Okay?”
“Yes.”
Mary knew it was time to let him go. “Do you want to say your prayers now?”
“You have to turn off the light first. My Pops always turns out the light.”
“Okay.” Mary reached over and turned out the lamp, which darkened the bedroom.
Patrick closed his eyes, made praying hands, and brought them up to his chin, whispering hoarsely. “Amen,” he said aloud, lowering his hands. He looked over at her, his expression solemn. “I’m done.”
“Good job.” Mary touched his face.
“You have a big family.”
Mary remembered that he had said that before. “I guess I do. I have a sister who wasn’t here tonight and I have my parents.”
“And all The Tonys.”
“Right, they’re my family, too.”
“I like them. It’s funny they have the same name. Three people with the same name!”
“Pretty crazy, huh?” Mary didn’t know whether to ask him how he was feeling because she didn’t want to make him upset, but she wanted him to know that he could express himself. She was quickly realizing that motherhood might actually be impossible. “How you feeling, honey? Are you sad or are you happy?”
“I don’t know,” Patrick answered, but his voice sounded suddenly shaky in the stillness. “I miss my Pops.”
“I know you do, honey. I’m so sorry about that.”
“He’s in heaven. My family is in heaven now.”
“Yes, they are, and they’re looking at you right now and making sure you’re okay. That’s what I believe.” Mary felt tears come to her eyes, but held them back.
“I figured out how it works. I do have a family. Just some people have their families with them and some people have their families in heaven.”
“I think you’re right, honey.” Mary thought of her first husband, Mike, who had passed. She realized that he would always be a part of her family, in heaven. It was a comforting insight, out of the mouth of babes.
“I wish my family wasn’t in heaven. I wish they were right here.” Patrick patted the bed next to him.
“I get that, honey, too,” Mary said, heartbroken for him. “I wish that were true, too.”
“I better go to sleep now.”
“Okay. Good night.” Mary leaned over and impulsively kissed him on the forehead, and suddenly he reached up, wrapped his arms around her, and gave her a big hug. She hugged him back, trying not to cry, and she sensed he was trying not to cry too, so she gave him another kiss on the top of the head. “I’m really happy you’re here.”
“Me too,” Patrick said, as she released him back onto his pillow and he wiped his eyes.
“You want Anthony to come in and say good night?”
“No, he said it downstairs.”
“Okay, good. Now if you want anything, I’ll be down the hall.” Mary rose, realizing she had reached another awkward moment. She and Anthony slept with the door open, and if Patrick slept with the door open, that meant they would have to wait until he fell asleep until they could talk.
“I’m okay.”
“You want the door open or closed?”
“Open.”
“Okay, good night, honey.”
“My Pops always says ‘nighty-night.’”
“Nighty-night, honey,” Mary said softly, leaving the bedroom before her eyes welled up again.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Mary walked into the bedroom, but it was empty, which surprised her. She had left Anthony in here getting changed, because it was usually the first thing he did when he hit the house, slipping into a faded T-shirt and gym shorts. She checked the bathroom just to make sure, but he wasn’t there. She got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. This is what it would feel like if he were gone.
She went downstairs and by the time she hit the first floor, she knew that he was in the kitchen because she could smell espresso. He made it from a silvery Bialetti espresso maker, a seven-dollar pot that brewed on the stovetop, and the first time she saw him making espresso, she realized he’d fit in perfectly with her family. But in the time they’d lived together, he’d only brewed espresso when he had to stay up late to grade papers or finish his thesis, so this wasn’t a good sign.
“Hi,” Mary said, entering the kitchen, and Anthony looked up from the book he’d been reading at the kitchen island, his cup and saucer at his right hand.
“Hey.” Anthony placed the book flap in the pages to mark his place, then closed the book, which read Overcoming Dyslexia. “Is he in bed?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds weird, doesn’t it? This whole thing, it’s just unreal. I thought it would be better if we talked downstairs.” Anthony shook his head. “But first tell me what happened with Kather. What I read online scared me. He tried to kill you?”
“I don’t want to talk about that now. We have too much to talk about.” Mary had to know where they stood as a couple. “And I have to apologize. I’m sorry, I know I put you in a tough position with Patrick. It’s amaz
ing that you got him the gift, and I really appreciate it.”
Anthony sighed, leaning back. “You don’t have to say that. It seemed in order.”
“Well, thank you.” Mary pulled out the seat across from him, even though they usually sat next to each other at the kitchen island. His demeanor, and the circumstances, told her to keep her distance. The sky was turning black outside the kitchen window, and they normally would’ve gone outside to their back patio, had a glass of wine, and tried to find the stars through Philadelphia’s electrical haze. But this wasn’t one of those nights.
“I thought about it, is what happened,” Anthony began, his tone quiet. His lips formed a grim line, his chin grizzly, and he seemed even more tired than before, his dark eyes sunken as if he hadn’t slept in a while.
“What did you think about? Taking Patrick? And what happened with the job, did you get it?” Mary could hear herself firing questions at him, her default when she was anxious. Anthony, on the other hand, only got quieter and more introspective.
“I thought about everything. I think more clearly on planes. I don’t know why, but I swear, I have real clarity in the air.”
“So what happened?”
“I flew back to California and I thought about it the whole way there. What you said, what I said, what I would do in your situation, everything.” Anthony nodded, as if resolving something in his own mind. “And I thought that we were both making a terrible mistake, the same terrible mistake.”
“And? What’s the terrible mistake?”
Anthony met her eye directly. “The terrible mistake is that we are not functioning as a couple. We live together and we love each other—”
“We do,” Mary interrupted.
“—but we haven’t come together, not really. We don’t function together, at least we’re not as yet. I’m as guilty of it as you are.” Anthony shook his head. “The first time I went to UCLA, they started making noises about the opening in the department, and I let it be known that I wanted it. I didn’t think to ask you about it, I didn’t want to tell you about it. I knew what you were going to say. So I did it anyway. Without you.”
“What did you decide?”