“Howmany does she have?” Mer asked.
“Twolittle girls,” Vincent chimed in, before sending himself into a coughing fit.
“Pops,take it easy,” Vinnie muttered beneath his breath.
“Takeit easy,” his father mocked with a wheeze, scoffing and waving a hand throughthe air. “I wasn’tdoinganything.”
Momhurried to get up from the table. “Vincent, can I get you something? Some watermaybe?”
Theold man coughed again, holding a fist to his mouth and flattening his otherhand to his chest. He began to shake his head, then thought better of it andnodded. Vinnie watched with wide-eyed worry, as if he thought his father woulddrop dead right here, in this backyard on Long Island. It wasn’t his time yetthough, I knew this and felt it, but I couldn’t say it. Vinnie would ask how Iknew, demanding some medical explanation, and that was a conversation I wasn’tyet prepared to have.
Istood up, controlling my speed, not wanting to give Vinnie more reason to worryby showcasing any panic. I bent over his father, pressed a hand to his back,and said, “Take it easy, Mr. Marino. Try to focus on taking slow, deepbreaths.”
Helistened and began with short, sputtered gusts of breath, but after severaltries, he was breathing normally again, as normal as he could. He took a sip ofwater from the bottle my mother brought to him, then wiped the back of his handover his mouth. When he noticed a streak of pink, brushed over his pale,spotted skin, he looked up at me with terror in his eyes.
“It’sokay,” I whispered, grabbing a napkin from the table and wiping theblood-tinged saliva away. “That’s going to happen sometimes. But it’s okay.You’re going to be okay.”
“Oh,yeah,” he snickered morosely. “I feel really okay right now.”
Theold woman in the yard looked from her son to the dying man with sympatheticeyes. One hand reached out to cover Vincent’s shoulder, and I watched hisfeathered brows lift. I didn’t need to ask if he felt it, I knew he did. Heturned his head slightly, to take a quick glance at his arm, to see ifsomething was there. He couldn’t see her hand laying there, of course, and heshook his head as he swallowed, probably assuming it was only the wind or maybeeven his imagination. But he continued to feel it, I knew he did, and I hopedhe found comfort in her touch.
“So,let me ask you a question,” I said, pulling over a chair to sit beside him.
“Hm,”he grunted, settling back in his chair and continuing to make quick glancestoward his shoulder.
“Howdid you meet your wife?”
Vinnieleveled me with a steely glare I chose to ignore. He was my boyfriend, but thismoment wasn’t about him.
Hisfather pulled in a deep breath and held tight to the arm of his chair. “Oh,that was a long time ago—”
“Yeah,but come on, you still remember.”
Vincentpinched his lips and hesitated, shaking his head, but still he responded, “Wemet in high school.”
“Ooh,”I squealed, leaning forward in my chair. “High school sweethearts?”
Henodded. “Yeah, I guess you could call it that.”
“That’sso romantic.”
Hehuffed a disgruntled laugh. “Sure.”
Vinniesurprised me then by chiming in. “Oh, get outta here, Pops. You were head overheels and ready to marry her right after you graduated.”
Igasped, looking between Vinnie and his father, and said, “Wow! Are youserious?”
Ittook Vincent a moment before nodding. “Not one of my prouder moments,” hemuttered.
Mrs.Marino scowled and pulled her hand back.
Vincentnoticed immediately.
***
Vinnieand I sat on the front porch of my parents’ house, while my family, his father,and the ghosts in both our lives watched the fireworks from the curb.Multicolored sparks streamed through the air and reflected off the Great SouthBay, and although the night was sticky and humid, it was also beautiful, justto have this man by my side.
Heblew into the air and hung his smoking hand between his knees. “He actuallylooks happy,” he commented, and although he didn’t say it, I knew he meant hisfather.
