“What did Marie tell you?”
“She said that Hal stopped by a week ago and Papa was looking thin. He thought he might have stopped eating…” he frowned.
“And no one thought to call or inform me of this? I just get the damn call. 'Hi Vicky but I’m sorry your father’s dead.' Maybe I would have come home sooner. Maybe I could have done something….” I threw my hands up in the air with frustration; my heart was beating a mile a minute. Joe was too damn infuriating.
“Marie asked me if she should call you, but what for Vicky? We both know he didn’t want to live anymore, or else he would have taken us up on our offers for help. He wanted to die and none of us thought it would be healthy for you to sit around and watch that happen. Especially since your reaction to Mama’s death had been drastic, and Marie said that you were just getting your life back together in New York,” he trailed off sounding defeated. Maybe this was a no win situation.
“What?” I winced. “I never told Marie about my life in New York,” I muttered angrily.
“She said you had your reasons for being there and to leave you be,” Joe argued back. My brother was a Molino through and through, tough and stubborn. “The truth was that I was on my way back here anyway. After spending a little too much time on the beach in Mexico, I felt the need to come home. I was staying in Toronto a few days when Marie contacted me to say that Papa died. I’m cursing myself because I should have come home sooner to say goodbye, but it was so hard to say goodbye…instead, I hung around Toronto because I was too damned scared to come home and see more death,” he said, shaking his head back and forth as tears filled his eyes. He was a big guy but a cuddly teddy bear at heart. I walked back over to console him. Clearly I was being too hard on him. He’s just as messed up as me. Now was not the time to tell him about Mama’s letter either. I was beginning to think I might never tell him. My older brother was the only family I had left and I didn’t want to push him away.
“Come, Joe, I’ll make you some tea,” I said, patting his back and walking into the kitchen. As I entered the kitchen I noticed the clean floors and counter tops. I’m sure Papa hadn’t kept it this way. Especially since he was in such bad shape. Joe took a seat at the kitchen table and I hit the kettle. I leaned on the counter waiting for the water to boil and watched Joe with his head between his hands. This was a fucking mess.
“What were you doing in Mexico?” I asked, trying to make conversation despite the dreary mood.
“I was trying to clear my head, run away, I don’t know, Vicky, but whatever I was doing wasn’t working and it began to weigh on me hard.”
“How was New York?” he asked, throwing me off. I couldn’t believe Marie told him I was in New York. I hoped she hadn’t told him about Mama’s secret.
“New York was good,” I answered solemnly.
“Isn’t New York like really expensive? Everything was dirt cheap in Mexico so I managed…”
“Yeah, you managed for a year and a half Joe. It wasn’t cool how you took off and you could have at least replied to my text messages. Shit! After everything I had been through, I didn’t expect for you to up and leave and forget I existed,” I bit out and I knew I was being too harsh again he had just lost his father.
“Shit, Vick, I’m sorry I was really messed up, I needed to get my shit together and I had a hard time facing you. You always have everything under control and I didn’t. I needed to find my balance,” he explained regretfully.
“You think I have my shit together, Joe?” I laughed, it was so high pitched I almost sounded like a hyena. “If you only knew. Yes, I stayed and worked in the diner to help keep this place running but I was lost and I did my share of fucking up. Look, I am not blaming you for feeling shitty or taking off, all I am asking is that you don’t forget me. You are all I have now,” I said sadly as I took a mug out of the cabinet. I dipped the tea in the cup and walked it over to Joe.
Joe looked at me with his droopy eyes. “I know, Vick, I’m sorry but that’s why I came home, we have to face this mess together.”
“I know, Joe,” I said walking over to the cabinet to make myself a tea.
“Hey you two,” Marie, my mom’s best friend, walked into the kitchen looking pale. She was about forty years old with shoulder length auburn hair and warm brown eyes.
She came in embraced Joe in a hug then she walked around the counter and gave me a warm hug too. She had been like a mother to us since our mother died. She knew my mother better than anyone.
“You cleaned the house didn’t you?” I asked with an accusing smile.
“Yes, hon, the place was a wreck. I didn’t want you walking into that. I have set things up with the Mueller Funeral Home. The wake will begin tomorrow and the funeral will be held on Saturday,” she explained.
“Thanks so much for taking care of things, Marie, do you know what happened?” I asked, wanting to know how Papa died.
“I’m not certain. Hal came in here to check on him. At first he thought he was just passed out, but then he didn’t have a pulse. Hal called me and we called the paramedics. They came to take him and said it may have been a heart attack. He was probably drinking too much and not eating enough….” Her voice drifted off sadly and she got a faraway look on her face. “Oh, kids, I’m so sorry. We can’t judge his choices though. We all deal differently with grief…” she paused holding her hand over her heart while she stared at us through teary eyes. “If you kiddos need anything just holler. I better get home,” she said, giving my shoulder a light squeeze as she looked at me sympathetically. I hated that look; it reminded me of when Mama died. People in this town stared at me with sad droopy eyes for almost two years. It’s part of the reason I finally felt like I had to get away.
I followed her out to the front door. She knew the reasons for my trip. “He’s really nice,” I whispered to her. She knew I was talking about my biological dad back in New York.
She put a hand up to her heart. “I’m happy for you, baby girl,” she grinned.
“Thanks, Marie,” I said quietly then I turned to step back inside the house. My brother was perceptive and I didn’t want him asking questions, at least not yet. As I made my way up to my room, Joe followed behind me and went to his old room. Being home didn’t feel right. It was depressing. Joe and I would have to decide what we were going to do with this place. The happy place it had once been was part of a different lifetime, now the place held only sad memories. It was the place that both my parents lost their lives.
I went to go lie down on my old bed. With my cell phone in my hand, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at the screen hoping Luc had come to his senses, but there were no missed calls or voice messages. Lying back on the bed made me feel nauseous and the back of my throat burned like fire. As a bout of nausea hit me hard, I ran into the bathroom and heaved over the toilet until clear liquid came out of me. My stomach was empty; I had nothing to get rid of.
Joe came running out of his room and stopped at the bathroom door. “Are you okay, Vick?” he asked with his brows drawn together.
“Yeah, I don’t know, I guess this is too much for me, and I haven’t eaten anything…”I trailed off as I got to my feet.
“I’ll go get you water. I don’t think there’s any food in the house. We may have to go pick something up,” he suggested.