Luciano
How’s the apartment search going?
Nixon
Not too bad. New York’s just fuckin’ expensive.
And California isn’t?
Nixon
Ridgewood ain’t.
Sully
You better not be thinking about leaving us. You just joined the gang.
Speaking of gang, is Enzo ignoring us?
Nixon
I’m not leaving, don’t worry. Although, I might need a new place to crash so I don’t have to keep hearing Sly’s headboard pounding against the wall every night.
Luciano
[Earmuffs emoji]
Chuckling, I step up to the register and pay for the flowers I’m holding. The young woman attempts to make idle conversation, asking me questions about who the flowers are for and whether I come to the market often—as though it's been open for longer than two weeks. I humor her, speaking kindly as she finishes my transaction and blushes under the breadcrumbs of attention I’m giving her.
Thanking her, I reach into my pocket to pull out my now ringing phone. Vinnie’s name and photo of her laying in our bed in Italy flashes across the screen.
“Hello, amore mio,” I greet, stepping out of the store.
“Hi,” she replies, and I can practically hear her smile. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m at my apartment now packing up the last few boxes, then I have to run to my office for an hour or so.”
“Not a problem. I’ll set up the dining table for tonight while I wait for you to return home. Do you need me to go get the boxes?”
“No, Ross said he’d take care of it for me. Thank you though. If you want, I can swing by Di Mercutio and pick up the food on my way home?”
“It will be too early, amore mio. I’ll run out for it later, or send Sullivan. Lord knows he needs something productive to do.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you soon.”
“Ti amo, piccola ladra. Be safe.”
“I will. I love you too.”
Glancing down at my watch, I notice it’s only twelve-thirty, and decide to take a detour to stop by my clinic that’s sat vacant since I left all those months ago.
So often, I think about re-opening my doors. Helping people is my passion, but I worry now, with Vincenza by my side, and the threat of a murder charge against me, that an illegal practice would not be the best idea.
With Vinnie’s encouragement, I have been applying to residency programs, and have already been accepted at my father’s hospital. Still, I am not sure that path feels entirely right, but I am choosing to explore it, if not for myself, then for Mamma, and for the family I dream of having with my wife.
Unlocking the door, I let myself in and set the flowers down on a chair while I flip the light switch. The fluorescents come to life, illuminating the space I cherish so wholly. The air is stagnant, the scent of lingering sanitizer and latex from the box of open gloves on the counter.
Breathing deeply, I look around the room and try to daydream about myself continuing here, but the vision doesn’t come. It feels as though this door has already closed, and it is at that moment that I realize it may truly be time for me to move on from this chapter of my life.
Perhaps residencyisthe right path.
