Second Chances (19 page)

But tonight she was here for a different reason; she was going to set things right the only way she knew how. An elegant writing table stood sentry in a corner of the room, a petite desk lamp perched on top illuminating the intimate space and revealing a small cache of pens and personal stationary. She sat placing a crisp piece paper neatly in front of her and grasping one of the smooth, cold pens between her fingers she began to write.

The words came slowly at first as she struggled to organize the onslaught of memories that threatened to overwhelm her; she had a lot of explaining to do. Though Tim had made it perfectly clear he wasn’t interested in anything she had to say, she hoped and prayed he’d give her another chance. With a feeling of urgency she steered her pen rapidly across the page, the words tumbling down like rain drops. She’d write until she couldn’t until there was nothing more to say, and then she’d personally see that it reached Tim’s hands. Nothing was going to stop her this time.

*   *   *

At Tim and Ben’s apartment, the morning sunshine assaulted Ben’s face and demanded that he open his eyes. Reluctantly, he complied instantly jumpstarting his sleepy brain into a buzz of cerebral activity. Last night at Caesar’s seemed so surreal that he still couldn’t get his head around it. Clearly, their conversation was far from over but getting Tim home before he crashed and burned had taken everything he had. Emotionally spent and physically worn out, Ben had called it a night too.

Pushing off the bedcovers he padded barefoot to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. It was a high-test kind of morning for sure. Pouring two mugs he headed for Tim’s room edging the door open with his foot and peered inside. The room was dark, the shades were drawn, and Tim was still asleep under a pile of sheets and blankets. The bedside clock read 11:00 A.M., a respectable hour for rising.

He placed the mugs on top of a dresser and approached the side of the bed ready to rouse the sleeping dead with a gentle nudge. “Hey Tim. Tim.” No response. He nudged harder. “Time to wake up and face the day buddy.” Not so much as a muscle twitched, maybe he really was dead. Concerned, he bent to check Tim’s breathing and was trapped by the glare of one blood-shot eye.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Making sure you’re still alive.”

Tim’s head felt like a giant battering ram. “Shit, I wish I wasn’t.”

“Thought you might feel that way, I brought you some coffee.” Extending the steaming cup in front of him, Ben waited patiently for Tim to claim it.

“Sometimes you are a God send,” he croaked between grateful sips.

“You’re welcome.” The caffeine was doing its job and being the supreme friend that he was it was time for him to do his. “Tim we’ve got to talk about last night.”

Seemingly unmoved, Ben wondered if he’d even heard him. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Well, for one thing I want to thank you for telling me everything. It’s unfuckingbelievable what you’ve gone through. I know it took a lot for you to tell me.” He perched carefully on the side of the bed worried what he said next would get him kicked to the hardwood floor.

“For another thing I think you’ve got some more explaining to do, to Pashmina and to Amelia.” Tim’s head shot up like a cork. “They both deserve to know the truth too.”

“I bet Pashmina doesn’t have a clue where your head’s at right now. Did you even say anything to her or did you just walk out in typical Tim fashion?” Tim’s head dropped. He’d called that one right. “And Amelia, man if you care about her at all, you’ve got to talk to her.”

Tim looked skeptically at Ben. “I don’t know. I’m so tired of pretending that everything’s perfect but now it’s all fucked up.” Frustrated he pressed his hands to his head, “And as long as we’re being honest, I have to admit a lot of this is my fault.”

“Which means you can fix it,” Ben sipped his coffee giving Tim time to mull it over. “The way I see it you have two choices. You can do nothing and have nothing or anybody meaningful in your life, or grow a pair and show people the real you. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised how much better things are if you’d give yourself a chance.”

“What about my mother?”

“What about her?”

“I walked out on her. Twice.” He grimaced. Saying it out loud made it seem even worse. “I’m not sure that’s something I can fix.”

Seconds ticked by as the two sipped their coffees contemplating Tim’s options. “Honestly I don’t see what other choice you have, especially because you’re the one who keeps walking away. You have to be the one to reach out first.”

Less than thrilled Tim had to agree. “You’re right. I’ll do it.” A mariachi band boomed loudly in his head and he wanted to cry. Lesson learned he’d never drink tequila again. “I’ll call her……first thing tomorrow.”

“Amelia too,” Ben reminded, leaving him alone to ride out the misery of his hangover. “Let her in or let her go, your choice.”

*   *   *

A quick glance at his watch showed it was 8:05 A.M. Too early to call Pashmina? Or maybe too late. He wished he could turn the clock back that he could have a do over. He’d rather be anywhere but here with clammy hands and a dry throat working up the courage to call his mother. Tim glanced at his watch again, 8:06. He picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice answered on the third ring.

“Pashmina?”

“Yes, who’s this?”

“Tim,” he answered offering his surname as an afterthought, “Smith.”

A heavy silence followed and he wondered if taking Ben’s advice was a good idea, even the best lawyers can make mistakes. But this wasn’t about Ben. “I hope I’m not disturbing you calling so early?” Minus any assurances to the contrary, he forced himself to continue.

“To be perfectly blunt I’ve been a total prick.”
Idiot!
He slapped his forehead apologizing for his crudeness, “I’m sorry. Talking to my mother is still pretty new to me.”

Pashmina’s tender chuckle sounded in his ear. “I know how you feel, I haven’t exactly mastered parenting myself---obviously. Maybe we can help each other.”

The nervous tension knotting his shoulders eased and Tim relaxed slightly. “Sounds like a plan to me. Would you like to have lunch some time to talk about it, like maybe today?” He waited eagerly for her to answer.

Pashmina’s heart ached and she closed her eyes against the joyful tears welling inside them. Lunch with her son, was there anything better? She pictured a future full of special moments, memories created, celebrations, occasions, his wedding, and grandchildren. There was so much more in store for both of them but lunch was a very good place to start.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” she answered emphatically. “Noon? There’s a café across the street from the Dewes building, do you know it?”

“Yep, I’ve been there plenty of times. I’ll see you there at noon.” Three hours and forty-five minutes according to the clock on his computer. An eternity. He couldn’t wait that long.

“Pashmina, I just want to say that I’m really sorry for the way I treated you it was a mistake. I was a jerk but that’s not me.” Not anymore at least. “I’m starting to realize that you only get what you give in this world and up till now I’ve been pretty stingy. I swear I’m going to do my best to change that.”

She shushed him anxious to set the record straight. “No,
I
put us in this situation, it was my mistake. I never should have let you go. I thought I was being selfless and giving you a chance at a better life, but it was selfish and stupid. Believe me if I could go back and make everything right I would. I’m just so grateful for this second chance.”

That was it in a nut shell, no more dwelling on the past or mourning what was lost. It was time to put it all behind her and move on. “Tim, do you still have the St. Barbara medallion I gave you as a baby?”

He fingered the gold disc hanging from his neck. When he was ten, one of the other kids had tried to rip it from him prompting a beating that left the would-be thief black and blue for months. It was his medallion, a gift from his mother, and a promise that she’d be back for him one day.

“I have it.”

She smiled. “I’m glad. From now on she and I will always be with you. I love you Tim. Always and forever.”

The lump in his throat made it hard for Tim to answer. It was like speaking a foreign language, saying the words he’d never said to anyone before. “I love you too, Mom.”

“See you at noon?”

“Definitely.”

*   *   *

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was a picture perfect day for a funeral. Bright sun suspended from a cloudless cerulean sky, its warming rays poking gently at the gathering below as a mild breeze whispered soft and cool through the canopy of surrounding trees. Standing on the lawn, lush and green like a spongy carpet, Tim’s toes itched to be free from the squeezing confines of his black leather Ferragamo’s.

Graveside in the garden that was Forest Hills Cemetery he surreptitiously scanned the small group surrounding it; there was Monte, his iron gaze locked fiercely on the smooth, sleek casket in front of him, as if through sheer will and determination he could bring his beloved friend back to life, and Amelia standing next to him, her arm linked comfortingly through her uncle’s but with so many tears streaming down her beautiful face Tim wondered who was supporting whom. Lastly, there was Ben and Chad standing tall and strong, a pair of protective sentries flanking him or simply two friends.

In the days following Pashmina’s death, he’d felt lost, drifting aimlessly through a fog of shock and pain. He still couldn’t believe she was gone. A slice of bubbling pepperoni pizza appeared magically out of nowhere and suddenly he was ravenous. When was the last time he ate? “Eat,” Ben ordered pulling up another chair and grabbing himself a slice. “It’s Gino’s, your favorite.” Not needing any encouragement he sank his teeth into the heavenly ambrosia almost crying as the delectable flavors of an Italian pie melded in his mouth.

They ate in silence for a time, appeasing their appetites until they were full and Ben asked, “So how’re you doing?” A small pucker of worry had nestled snugly between his eyes and Tim was strangely moved. “Sorry, that was a stupid question, how does anyone feel when they lose their mother.” Seeing Tim wince Ben cursed. “Man, I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot.”

“Don’t apologize. This is all new to me too. Besides, I can’t be mad at the guy who feeds me pizza,” Tim joked feebly.

“Thanks.” Ben sat quietly for a moment before trying again. “I really am sorry about Pashmina. And Chad and I are going to do everything we can to help you through this.”

“Chad?”

“Yeah, he called as soon as he heard.” Ben continued, “You know he sort of knows what you’re going through and he’s never forgotten what you did for him.” Brightening, he threw a light punch to Tim’s shoulder, “Hey, how many people can say that Chadwick Brown picked up their dry cleaning for them?” He nodded affirmatively at Tim’s shocked expression. “Yup, he got your suit, tie, and even had your shoes shined for the funeral. Everything’s in your closet ready to go.”

A lump formed in Tim’s throat threatening to choke him as tears blurred the sight of Ben’s friendly face. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Hey, Buddy, you don’t have to say anything.” He patted Tim on the shoulder. “That’s what friends are for. Besides, you’d do the same for us.”

And Tim knew he would because despite his best efforts to be a totally self-absorbed prick, he’d managed to attract a few visitors to his one man island. He had friends. He just wished it hadn’t taken him so long to realize it.

*   *   *

Masses of people packed the pews of St. John Church spilling into its aisles and arched alcoves. Outside, loyal fans and curious alike gathered in droves creating their own unofficial service while local and national news crews reported live from the plaza, their satellite trucks jamming the curbs of Boylston Street and bringing the sounds of morning rush hour to a roaring crescendo. Angry horns and yelling voices created a dull hum that filled the air but Tim was oblivious to it all.

Statue-like he sat numb equally immune to the presence of the church guests as the blessed saints gazing serenely down upon him from their elaborate stained glass perches encircling the chapel. It was a beautiful church adorned with ornate gildings of gold and ornamental religious icons but all he could see was Pashmina days earlier, waving as she spotted him waiting for her at the café.

Beautiful as always she’d looked different somehow as she approached the crosswalk, her head high, gaze clear, and it was suddenly obvious. She was happy, totally and completely happy. Gone were the ever-present worry lines penciled between anxious eyes; instead ripple-free pools of rich coffee were sparkling directly at him. Even her posture had changed; she stood taller as if some great weight had been lifted from her.

Watching her he felt different too, nervous but excited like all those Christmas morning’s he’d spent hoping against hope that Santa would bring him a family of his own. He smiled broadly, white teeth flashing as Pashmina waved to him again. Santa hadn’t forgotten him after all.

She wore a black and white polka dot dress with a black patent leather clutch tucked under one arm and with her hair piled high on her head she was a vision of loveliness. Slipping on a pair of dark glasses, a final touch of chic, she stepped off the curb eager to reach her lunch date on the other side. Feeling her eyes glued to his face, Tim knew she never saw what hit her.