Ienjoyed the brief reprieve from the cloud hanging over my head, but like allmoments, it was fleeting, and before long, we were once again quiet and dolingout slices of pizza in solidarity. I didn't want to be doing this. I didn'twant to be there. The pictures of Pops displayed proudly on the wall, that wereonce a hanging scrapbook of memories, were now a memorial. But what I wantedeven less, was to go home, and every second that passed, was another secondbringing me closer to the moment I didn't want to face.
Thatmoment was inevitable though, and before I knew it, we were closing up shop andputting an end to the day. It felt so final. Like this was it, the official endto my father's life, and now, the world as I knew it, would continue on withouthim.
Zachlocked the shop, tossed the keys at Jenna, and said, “I'll call you guys when Iget home.”
“Yousure you don't wanna come stay at the house?” she asked. “Nicky already has thegirls in bed, but if you're quiet, you're welcome to the guest room.”
Greysonregrettably shook his head. “We have an appointment with an adoption agency inthe morning. We could reschedule if—”
“Oh,Jesus, why would you do that?” Jenna asked, flabbergasted.
“Well,because ... you know ...”
Jennareached out and laid a hand over Greyson's mouth. “Stop it. Pops never would'vewanted you's to put your life on hold for him. Give him more grandkids. That'swhat he would've wanted.”
Shepulled her hand away, revealing Grey's reluctant smile, as he said, “We'regonna try.”
Iloved my brother and the man in his life. But at that moment, as I stared attheir optimistic smiles, I hated them both for having something, anything, togive them hope for the near future.
Afterhugs and promises to call were given, I took Andy by the hand and began towalk. I didn't want to take her to her car and allow her to drive home, becauseI didn't want to be left alone. I didn't trust myself to be left to my owndevices, not when my heart was so vulnerable to the emotions threatening to ripme to shreds. So, without announcing the destination, I walked her to theapartment I once shared with my father.
Shelooked at the ground level coffee shop where neither Pops or I ever boughtanything and asked, “You want coffee?”
Ishook my head. “Nope.”
“Then...” She turned and looked up into my eyes, raising a brow in question.
Ipointed up. “I live on the fifteenth floor.”
Andydidn't smile. Her mouth formed a little O and she slowly nodded. “Oh,” shewhispered, reminding me then of how shy she could be. I hadn't seen that sideof her in weeks. I'd missed it, that part of her that seemed so innocent andpure, it felt almost sinful to even look at her.
“Idon't have any expectations,” I told her, and that was the truth. “I just ...”I pulled in a deep breath and continued, “I don't want to go up there bymyself. I ... I don't know if I can do it.”
Thenshe seemed to relax, blowing out a sigh that left her shoulders sagging, andshe nodded. “Okay. Let's go.”
***
Myovernight bag was in the living room, Zach had dropped it off over the weekend,but other than that, nothing seemed to have changed. The shoes Pops wore towork, were still beside the door. His meds were still on the counter. Theclock on the wall ticked the time away, in the exact way it always had, andalthough everything felt the same, there was a stillness in the air that toldme everything would never be the same again.
Istepped inside and grabbed my bag in a hurry. “I have to put this shit away,” Isaid brusquely, wrenching my hand from Andy's grasp and moving quickly throughto the living room and down the hall.
“Vinnie,wait,” she called after me, following as quickly as her heels would allow.“Give yourself a minute.”
ButI wouldn't. I passed the open doorway of Pops's room, daring to take a peekinside, to see the streetlights illuminating the room in an ethereal glow. Hisbed had been left unmade. The remote to his TV was on the floor, presumablydropped in the rush to get him to the hospital after he'd passed out. A bowl ofpopcorn sat on the nightstand, and I froze, focused on the kernels that hadescaped their confinement.
“Seriously?”I grunted angrily, dropping my bag on the floor.
“What?”Andy asked, peering into the room.
Imoved quickly inside, focusing only on those kernels of popcorn. “He bitches atme all the time about leaving food around and look at this shit.” I grabbed thebowl and swept the rogue pieces into it. “Un-fuckin'-believable.”
“It'snot a big deal,” she said, as I angrily walked from the bedroom to the kitchen.“Vinnie, just clean it up later.”
“Andwhat?” I asked, my voice loud and furious. “And let ants take over the goddamnapartment?” I dumped the popcorn into the trash and threw the bowl into thesink. “That's the last fucking thing I need right now, to deal with fuckingants.”
Ismacked my hand against the knob, turning on the faucet and thinking about myfather, getting so pissed at us for leaving food out and around our old house.I soaped up the sponge and remembered his nightly ritual of TV and a bowl offreshly popped corn, the scent of it wafting throughout the house. I picked upthe bowl and scrubbed it vigorously, replaying his laugh in my mind. And then,I dropped the soapy thing back into the sink, realizing that soon, so, so soon,I would no longer remember the sound of his voice. He was already fading frommy mind and this place. The process had already begun the second he died, and Icould acutely feel the bottom of my heart drop out. Pain swept over me, fillingmy chest and my stomach, and it took every ounce of effort to remember tobreathe.
“Fuck,”I uttered, my voice unrecognizable as my own.
