The Suite Life (28 page)

“Yeah, well”—Alec smiled—“the kicker is the investors don't have to make any money. It would be great if they did, but even if they don't, they can use the write-off. It's a win either way.”

“If you say so.” I shrugged

“I do. And no matter how it turns out, you'll get some great experience, so it's a win-win for both of us.”

If you say so.

The next four months flew by for Alec, but not so fast for me, since I was the one who had to remain steadfastly supportive, no matter what mood he was in. Whenever I tried to help boost his spirits when he was down, it didn't seem to have much positive effect, and no matter how hard I tried to help him pause and revel in his success after a victory, his mind was always focused like a laser on his next target. And although he adored our three-year-old daughter, his fixation on having her say hello and good-bye, good morning and good night, to him with a kiss every single time without fail could make it difficult for her (and for me) to feel that love. And though Alec was always playful around Isabella, it saddened me that the time we spent as a family was so limited. For me it was family that put everything else in perspective, but Alec couldn't seem to find that balance.
It was always up or down with my husband, so I rode the roller coaster with Isabella and said prayers of thanks that the highs were more frequent than the lows.

I kept myself busy writing and volunteering at the women's domestic violence shelter and spending time with Isabella. I really wanted to be there for my daughter the best way I knew how, but I was still a bit fearful of who I was and my past and how I would eventually impact my child for the rest of her life. I had to learn to hold back my fears and live more in faith when it came to Isabella. I tried not to bring my relationship with my mother into play. I wanted to do this differently and guide Isabella into the right direction of life. I'd learned a lot from Alma, and my guiding principle was never to be like my own mother, but I often felt like I was flying by the seat of my pants, and that was scary, even though Isabella appeared to be thriving. She was a bright, happy kid who brought me continuous pleasure, and the one thing I continued to love most, and felt truly confident doing, was reading to her at bedtime whenever possible. Seeing her face light up as she crawled into my lap and I opened a book never ceased to thrill and amaze me. Her long dark hair reminded me of mine as a child, before my mother got high one day and cut it all off. I knew Isabella was nothing like her maternal grandmother, although she did inherit my mother's big green eyes and full lips. She was a sweet child who often seemed serious beyond her years. Maybe I didn't have the true mother gene because of my past. But I was sure as hell working on it.

I was thrilled when Alec surprised me with a family trip to Italy in the spring, because it was only when he was miles from work that he truly seemed at peace.

Alec-the-tour-guide couldn't resist pointing out that the name Roma (Rome in Italian) was almost like
amore
spelled backward, and the glint in his eye as he conveyed that information
gave me hope that seeing the sights and eating fabulous meals wouldn't be all we did. And the fact that Giovanni and Filomena would be with us on the trip gave me hope that he would do less drinking and forgo his usual recreational drugs. While I was sad to leave my daughter behind, Isabella would be staying with her aunt Gianna, so I knew that she'd be well taken care of.

On the plane, I sat next to Giovanni, who kept me entranced with his stories about the rich history of the places we'd be visiting. “Growing up in Sicily,” he told me, “was a lot different from the way my own kids, and you, grew up in Brooklyn.”
And my Brooklyn was a lot different from yours.
I urged him to tell me more about his own childhood, which, I realized, was probably a lot like that of my own father, who had also been born in Sicily.

“Well,” he said, “for one thing, we didn't go to any market to buy our fish. We ate what we caught, preferably sardines, which we fried in oil over an outdoor fire. My mamma made the pasta and salad and my sisters baked the bread. Our family's life revolved around cooking and eating, and we all contributed what we could.” I loved hearing him talk, and I also loved gaining some insight into the source of Alec's infinite love of food.

In Giovanni's company the trip literally flew by, and almost before I knew it we were landing. We were met at the airport by Andrea, who would be our limo driver throughout the trip. Although he spoke mainly in Italian, which both Giovanni and Filomena spoke fluently, I sensed just from the tone of his voice that he was a happy and passionate man. He couldn't stop talking about his
bella ragazza,
his beautiful girlfriend, and I couldn't help feeling, as most Italians do, that we're all part of one great big family.

We had lunch at a charming restaurant, seated on a patio surrounded by olive trees, and took the proprietor at his word when he begged us to pick as many olives as we wanted to eat. After a delightful, sun-kissed meal accompanied by homemade
limoncello served ice-cold in Venetian shot glasses, we checked into our hotel and took a long afternoon nap before descending again for another unforgettable meal.

For the weeks that followed, we toured the Eternal City and ate one meal after another, each of them more fabulous than the last. Our travels took us to Florence, and then to Venice, a city of breathtaking beauty that felt like a dream. Every one of us was enjoying the vacation of a lifetime but none of us more so than Giovanni, who was in his element as he paused at nearly every church to pray and sing with the local priests and monks. I was just thrilled to once again be making up for lost time with my husband.

Thankfully, there was no sign that his hemorrhoids were recurring, despite the richness of our meals, and Alec remained upbeat, willing to embellish the historical lessons Giovanni provided, and always gentle with me. When we got back to our room in the evening and he took me in his arms, he was once more the gentle giant I'd fallen in love with and who I knew was hidden beneath the tough Wall Street titan exterior he showed the world. Since we were never far from a religious painting, a cathedral, a convent, or a monastery, I had plenty of opportunities to say prayers of thanks for these blessings. What I was most grateful for in the end was simply having made love with my husband more in those three weeks in Italy than I had in the preceding three months.

I never wanted our fantasy trip to Italy to end. As I expected, within just a few days of returning to Manhattan, my husband got his game face back on. Gone were all signs of the gentler Alec I'd known in Europe. For my part, I resumed the role of supportive wife and doting mother to Isabella, attended the occasional charity function, the usual luncheons, and visits with my in-laws.

And I shopped.

There was no getting away from spending money, as almost every interaction outside my home involved large quantities of it, whether for a new outfit, a gift, or a charitable contribution. I knew, because Alec had told me, that any check I wrote or any swipe of my titanium AmEx card would be covered without question, and that he knew I wouldn't take advantage of that fact.

On the few occasions over the next year that he asked me if I needed anything, I thought better of mentioning that the only thing I lacked was enough time with him.

Instead I marched on side-by-side with Alec and cherished my attachments to my daughter and to Giovanni, which made everything worthwhile. Spending time with the people I loved was what mattered to me the most. So when Giovanni called me in early July, inviting me and Isabella to lunch in his Wall Street office so that we could discuss his idea for Isabella's fourth birthday party, I counted the hours until the day arrived. I had decided I could talk to my adopted father as I would to a priest and had just been waiting for the right opportunity to broach the subject of my concerns about his son, my husband.

“How's my little princess?” He beamed when we arrived, sweeping Isabella into his arms, cooing, “Who's the prettiest little girl?” while she giggled with pleasure. Isabella loved her grandpa, and also loved dressing up. On this occasion she really did look like a princess in a delicate green silk dress that matched her eyes and the two big bows in her hair.

Tucking her into the crook of his arm, Giovanni settled at one end of the overstuffed leather couch opposite his desk, while I sat in a matching armchair close by.

“I'm thinking the Bronx Zoo,” Giovanni began.

“That's a wonderful idea!” I beamed.

“We're all going before they open on her birthday,” he continued. “The monsignor up at Fordham owes me a favor, and the zoo butts up against his campus. Apparently, someone
connected with it owes the good priest, so what goes around comes around.”

I shook my head in amazement. “I swear, sometimes it seems as if my life is make-believe.”

“Well, believe it, Samantha. I'd do anything for my family.”

“I know that,” I said.
The time is now.
“And there's something I think you could do for me, Dad.”

“Anything, Sam. Just say the word.”

“I'm worried about Alec,” I began tentatively.

Giovanni reached his free hand across to mine and squeezed. “The crazy pace he's on, right?”

I gazed into his sympathetic eyes and nodded slowly. “I'm not sure it's good for his health or for . . . our relationship.”

“Don't think my wife and I haven't had our share of bumps in the road, especially early on, Samantha. And don't think his mother and I haven't talked about his excesses. But he's a grown man who has to do what he has to do.”
Spoken like a true Italian.
“All we can do is keep praying that God watches over him, and keep telling him how much we love him and that he doesn't have to prove anything more to us.”

“I just wonder sometimes how much more he has to prove to himself.” I sighed.

“Join the club.” Giovanni smiled.

“I didn't mean to spring this on you,” I said in apology.

“Don't be silly,” he said. “That's what parents are for, and you are both my children now.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“So,” he said, “why don't you sneak over for dinner tonight so we can talk more about it. I'm making some sausage and broccoli di rape with orecchiette.”

“That's my favorite!”

“I know, I know, already.” Giovanni feigned insult. “If I learned nothing else about you in Italy, it was that.”

On the way back to the apartment I picked up some fresh flowers and chocolate-dipped strawberries so I wouldn't walk in empty-handed that evening, and I let Alma give Isabella an early bath so that she would be ready for bed and I could read her a story before I left.

My cell phone rang before I'd gotten to the third page.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sam!” Alec screamed as soon as I flipped the phone open. I didn't have to bring it to my ear to hear the rest. “Dad just had a heart attack! I'm on my way to the exchange garage where they're working on him. They said they'll be taking him to St. Vincent's. Sonofabitch!” he raged.

I didn't know what to say. I could barely breathe, let alone think. “I'll be praying for him, Alec,” was all I could manage.

I wasn't at my mother's side when she died, because I was aware the end was near and had been off making her funeral arrangements. No cell phone for Samantha then. I was determined to make amends for that now with the only other parent I'd known.

Remaining as calm as I could so as not to scare her, I explained to Isabella that Grandpa was sick and that I was going to see him. Then I grabbed my bag and ran out the door, pausing only long enough to tell Alma what was going on and that I might be very late returning. She made the sign of the cross as I bolted out the door.

Alec was nowhere to be seen when I arrived at the hospital, and a nurse informed me that no one in the family had shown up yet. He must have missed them at the garage and still be on his way. I told the nurse I wanted to see my father, and she asked me to wait where I was while she checked Giovanni's status.