“Sure,”I replied in an awkward whisper.
Afterplugging the machine in and grabbing a couple of mugs from the cabinet, he setto work, silently brewing, and pouring, before handing me one steaming cup.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah.Sure.”
Hewalked past me, and I followed him with my eyes as he moved into the livingroom, shoving some things out of the way before sitting on the couch with anagitated groan. Slowly, I trailed behind, approaching him with caution like hewas a wild animal. Unpredictable and formidable. I hated feeling like this. Icouldn’t stand that I loved him and feared him all at the same time. I couldn’tstand not knowing what he was thinking and not knowing what to say or do, whenall I wanted was to hug him and tell him it would all be okay. But really, whatthe hell did I know? What I do in my life had never taken me this far. I didn’tknow what happened to the families, after the funeral and the dead were buriedand had crossed over.
Ifelt helpless.
Sittingdown at the edge of an overstuffed recliner, I clutched my mug between bothhands and said, “Do you—”
“Andy.”
Iswallowed. “Yeah?”
Hiseyes, ringed in dark circles and trouble, lifted to meet mine. “I’m so fuckin’sorry.”
Itfelt like enough that he began the conversation and not me. So, I shook my headto force a smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”
“No,”he replied, firm and sincere. “Do not tell me that this,” he gestured outtoward the living room and its disheveled state, “is fine. What happened lastnight wasn’t fuckin’fine. I’m not …” He groaned, shaking his head andshoving a hand forcefully into his hair. “I don’t do that type of shit, okay?I’m not that kinda asshole. I shouldn’t …” Sighing, ragged and defeated, hedropped his hand between his spread knees. “Inevershould’ve done thatto you, Andy. And I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”
“Youwere upset.”
Furrowinghis brow, he shook his head. “That doesn’t give me the fuckin’ right to be apiece of shit!”
Tearingmy gaze from his, I shrugged halfheartedly, not knowing what to say.
Then,he asked, “Did I hurt you?”
Ishook my head. “No, I’m … I’m okay.”
Hewas quiet. Breathing evenly and biting his thumbnail as he looked out into theliving room. I wanted to know what he was thinking but I didn't think I shouldask, when he said, “I gotta clean this shit up.”
Withoutanother word, he stood up and began to pick things up from off the floor, and Ihelped. Picture frames, floor lamps, throw pillows. It was amazing that such amess could be made in such a relatively short period of time, almost as if ithad been done intentionally. And Vinnie confirmed just as much when he said,“Pops would've been so pissed if he was here to see this.”
Imanaged a smile. “He didn't like things messy?”
“Hellno.” He surprised me with a laugh. “We didn't have a whole lot growin' up buthe was a firm believer in taking pride in what we did have.”
“Smartman,” I commented quietly, and Vinnie's smile faded as he replied, “Yeah, hewas.”
***
Together,we cleaned the place up, and while it was tense, I found a comfort I wasn'tquite used to in that apartment. It was quiet, free of ghosts and static, and Iwas given the freedom to focus on us.
Vinniewas sad, of course he was, but he could also laugh. He cracked jokes, we hadfun, and even though the road would be long, I saw the future in his smile, andit was bright.
“So,”he said, after the last of the debris had been swept from the floor, “whatshould we eat tonight?”
Hedropped the dustpan to the floor and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling meinto him and kissing my neck, as I replied, “I don't know. What's good aroundhere?”
“Sweetheart,whatever you want, I can get.”
Ashis whiskered chin tickled my skin, I laughed, wrapping my arms around hisneck. “Oh, so you're like my own personal genie?”
“Ifthat's what you want me to be, then yeah, your wish is my command,” hemuttered, moving his kisses lower until he reached my collar bone.
