Chapter 10
When Romano stepped off the plane he instantly felt the sunlight again. In an instant, he felt like he had seen the sun for the first time in a whole year. Rome's sun wasn't exactly like Spain's, but it was close, and any warmth felt better than none. There seemed to be no warmth like that in his hometown. Sure, there were a few nice landscapes, if one is taken by such things, and there are nice people, like Victoria, and even Alfred, who Romano had come to know as his only true American friend.
Alfred was so different than Romano. Alfred was an "All American Boy" who liked football, and alcohol that comes in cans packaged together in sets of six. He liked action movies and was sometimes overly-assertive of his opinions, which would fuel the two friend's arguments. And yes, they argued a lot. This bickering was what simply made their friendship work, in Romano's opinion, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Romano could say anything to Alfred and never fear what the other's reaction would be, because Alfred certainly said whatever came to his mind and, even if he completely objected to Romano's point of view, Alfred would just argue it out with Romano until they were too tired and ate junk food together late into the night. And yes, Romano had gained memories of waking up on the floor in Alfred's dorm with a pizza box as a pillow, the taste of hamburgers in his mouth, grease and garlic in his hair, all while cuddling a box of donuts. But, as much of a slobby, annoying, and arrogant hamburger bastard Alfred was, he was Romano's slobby, annoying, and arrogant hamburger bastard, and he was his best friend. And Romano's new best friend seemed to have one of the biggest heart's Romano had ever known.
Alfred took Romano in at his lowest point, and helped him feel a little better. He never pushed him to be happy, he just listened and tried to soften the blows brought on by the pain of being apart from where he felt happiest, where he felt most at home, even though Spain, and Francis, and Antonio technically weren't his home. It was a strange type of reverse home-sickness that Romano was dealing with, that even he didn't understand the depths of at times, that Alfred soothed him through. Alfred didn't ask him to justify anything. He didn't judge him. He didn't even try to make Romano "see the bright side" like others might have. He just listened as Romano told stories about Spain. He just listened as Romano ranted on and on about how miserable he was in America, how miserable he was without the people he loved, on nights when he would storm into Alfred's dorm room, a bottle of whatever wine he could get in his hands on, already drunk enough to let himself go into detailed descriptions of exactly what he felt, that he would never let out when sober. On those nights, Romano would drink and drink, a part of him cursing his high tolerance to alcohol that never let him lose himself enough to just forget everything before his bottle ran out. When he was done and in as much of a drunken state as his body would allow, he would crawl into Alfred's bed and cry into one of the pillows. Alfred just sat with him, gently put a hand to his back, and rubbed circles on it until Romano calmed down enough to fall asleep. Alfred would always greet Romano the next morning with his perfect smile, some aspirin, and a bucket. Romano knew that only a true friend would deal with all of that mess.
That's why Alfred was the first one that Romano called.
"Hey, buddy! I didn't see you in class today! You skipping?" Alfred asked, a joking tone to his voice.
Romano smiled a bit.
"I guess you could say that." Romano took a deep breath. "Look, Alfred, I'm in Rome right now. I just wanted to tell you so you didn't worry."
"You're where?!" Alfred, obviously shocked, asked.
"I'm in Rome. Francis called me and told me to come immediately. Look, I don't know exactly how long I'll be here. I don't even know the situation, but it seemed urgent."
"But exams are in two weeks!" Alfred exclaimed.
"I know. I'll try to make it back before then." Romano's voice dropped to a very serious tone that Alfred knew he only used to convey something much deeper.
"I need to be here right now." Romano said in that tone.
Alfred nodded. Realizing he was, indeed, still talking on the phone, he vocalized his reassurance.
"Do what you have to do, buddy." There was a pause before Alfred spoke again.
"Do me a favor and try to let yourself be happy, just while you're there, okay? Good luck, Romano."
"Thanks Alfred." Romano hung up.
Right after Romano put his cell phone away he looked up to see a familiar red convertible in front of him. He had been standing in the parking lot outside the airport, the hot sun drenching him in sweat, as he was dressed far too warmly for the weather in Rome. Romano planned on hailing a taxi and checking into a hotel nearby, but, judging by the site in front of him, it seemed his plan had changed.
Francis didn't hesitate to run up to Romano and engulf him in a hug. It had been so long since he had seen Romano. He kissed him on the forehead and held his shoulders as he backed away a little to get a look at Romano. In just one year, he had changed so much. He grew a little. Romano was still rather short, but he was a bit taller than he used to be. Romano's face and body had gotten slightly bigger, too. Francis blamed this on the American diet he loved to criticize. It seemed the infamous "Freshman Fifteen" couldn't be avoided by any American teenager, even Romano. Despite that, though, Francis couldn't help but note that Romano was still handsome. He had Roma's good genes that allowed his slight weight gain to not take away from his charming features. Romano still had those wandering eyes, that endearing hair flip, and that expression that was unique to Roma and Romano. Romano still had Roma's wonderful something, but, most importantly to Francis, Romano still had that thing about him that made him Romano. That made him, still, Francis's younger brother.
"Mon petit frère, you're gorgeous." Francis said with a sentimental smile as he held Romano's face in his hands. Without dropping his delicate, yet long fingers from Romano's jawline, Francis said, "Let's go. Zhere's a lot to be said."
Without any further explanation, Romano got in the car.
They rode on a silent car ride throughout the streets of Rome. Romano tried to imagine it like his first ride through Spain, but simply couldn't. It wasn't that they were in a different country, with different people, and different areas to explore, because Romano believed that Rome would have given him that feeling of pure wanderlust if the car ride he was on took place a year ago. He tried to have that movie moment again, but it was like the world wouldn't let him. It was like his very being wouldn't let him. He knew better in that moment of certain things. He knew better than to be completely relaxed because of the way that Francis gripped the steering wheel. He held it tightly and firmly in his hands as his eyes were intent on the road. He was wearing one of his signature flowy, pink shirts, but Romano couldn't help but imagine the way Francis's muscles tensed underneath the garment. While Francis's right leg controlled the peddles, his left leg stayed dangerously still. When Romano's eyes finally made it to Francis's face, he noticed a look he had never seen before. Francis was a good bit older than Romano, but, for some reason, whenever Romano saw him or thought about him, Francis was a young, strong, and smart man to him. He always had an ageless beauty about him that caused one to think of him as a sweet little boy one second, and an older, wiser man the next. But, on that day, Romano saw age for the first time appear on Francis. Romano doubted it was because of a year passing, because the amount of aging Romano saw was beyond what would normally happen in a year's time. Francis had dark circles. His usually flawless skin had an almost discolored hue. But it wasn't the physically describable things that caused the most aging. It was the elder's expression. Francis wore his worry, depression, grief possibly on his face.
'What happened this past year to cause that?' Romano wondered.
Romano was soon led into a large, older looking home, that he just knew was Roma's. It was a nice home located on a hill overlooking a small market area below, a stunning location. The house itself was a handsome type of run down. It had tall, tan walls that seemed to be peeling with age. Vines grew up the side of the house, and, as Romano stepped closer, he noticed an over-grown garden resting at the house's side, toward the back. The garden had more weeds than actual flowers, from what Romano saw, and parts were covered by stones. It looked as if it had been years sense anyone tended to it, and, if they had even tried to work with it, some person just decided to just lay stones down to keep the endlessly growing weeds somewhat controlled, instead of taking the time to make it beautiful again. Yes, Romano truly believed it was once a gorgeous place. It covered a large area, but not so large that it would be impossible to handle, or one might've thought. The weather was nice, so he figured that plants would grow well in the spot. Rome was warm, but the garden was slightly shaded by a small balcony right above it. Romano then thought about whoever might've gone out on that balcony, when the garden was beautiful. He figured it must've been nice.
'If only someone cared to tend to the garden.' Romano thought, before a more haunting realization occurred to him.
'What would cause the garden to stop being cared for?' Romano's mind them took him to even more haunting of places, as he came to conclusions that probably explained things. It had become painful for him to think of Roma's past. Those thoughts were the chains that locked him in America. He would tell himself constantly that it would be good for him, too, staying and having the traditional life his parents and everyone else convinced him to live, but, genuinely, he knew that Roma was what, really, kept him there. Roma sacrificed himself for Romano to have that life. Romano couldn't let that go to waste.
"Romano! Come inside! We 'ave s'ings to do!" Francis broke Romano out of his thoughts with a loud, authoritative, and almost annoyed voice.
Romano turned around, a bit surprised at Francis's tone. Francis never lost his cool, and up until that moment, Romano doubted the man could get angry. He was always easy going before, and, though he was an older brother figure, Francis never tried to assert it with such force. Romano knew not to take the new scolding personally, because, though he wasn't sure of the extent of what had happened to him, he knew he must've been under a lot of stress. He couldn't help but notice the lines that formed around his mouth and eyes as he spoke.
'What happened?' Romano, again, wondered.
He was led into the house by Francis, who also carried his suitcase. The interior of the house was a bit nicer than the outside, but, still, obviously needed some work. It had high walls that were covered with plaster and painted an almost rosy, tan color. Romano could tell, even from far away that the beautifully colored walls needed a paint job and other projects to fix the many cracks, holes, and scuffs from wear and tear over the years. As he walked behind Francis up the wooden stairs he noticed how badly they creaked and how the wood was scratched up in many places, and desperately needed to be dusted. As he continued his observations of the home he was walking through, he couldn't help but notice the thick layer of dust that covered almost everything. The whole house was a beautiful mess, to be honest. It had stunning bone structure, with it's elegant walkways engraved with patterns on the walls bordering them, with it's old fashioned iron locks on every door, with it's beautiful pieces of antique wooden furniture with the dust and sadness from never being used, never being admired, that attempted to taint its beauty. Attempted.
He was soon led into a room two doors down, the on the left of the hallway of the second floor. He stepped in and started to take a look around when he heard a thump on the floor beside the bed. Romano turned and realized it was Francis loudly setting his luggage down, probably to intentionally snap Romano out of his daydreams again.
"Come on. You can look later." Francis simply told him before walking out, expecting Romano to follow.
It was like he had become a different person.
Romano soon found himself walking toward another wooden door at the end of the hall. Before he could go in, Francis stopped him.
"Look, 'e's not doing well. Let 'im talk ze most and be gentile. Be friendly."
Romano nodded, ready to go in before Francis stopped him once again. This time, he pulled Romano into an embrace and leaned in to whisper in his ear.
"You know zhat you are also 'is grandson?"
Romano looked up into Francis's tired eyes. He let his thoughts of Roma that he carried through the past year, of always keeping his grandfather in his mind and heart as he pushed through his studies, of always feeling connected to his family there, attempt to diffuse through himself to Francis as he spoke.
"Of course I know." He told him.
With a small, knowing smile Francis sent Romano on his way.
Roma was different. When Romano had first seen him, he was a loud, cheerful, fun man, who, like Francis, rarely showed his age. As Romano entered the dusty, lightly sunlit room, he knew that man was gone, or, at least, leaving. The man that Romano saw on that day was much older. He looked tired, not just physically, but mentally as well. Roma made it appear like his whole body weighed a thousand pounds, but, looking at him, Romano knew Roma would be lucky to even weigh a hundred pounds. His tan skin had faded to a dull yellow and it sagged in a few places, probably adding to the weight. Nonetheless, Roma gave a slight smile, probably the biggest one he could give, as he saw Romano enter the room.
"Romano! My amazing grandson! I'm glad you could make it. Come, sit." Roma told him with a weak, hoarse voice. Romano carefully sat on the edge of the bed.
"How is school?" Roma asked, as if talking to his American grandson was a common occurrence.
"It's been going well. I made this crazy friend named…" Romano then stopped what he knew would be the beginning of him talking too much. He remembered what Francis had just told him and decided to let Roma do most of the talking. But there was one thing Romano knew he could talk about, no, that he needed to talk about, with Roma.
"I met this woman. She's about ten years younger than you are. Her name is Victoria. I noticed she…" before Romano could finish, Roma's voice stopped Romano's talking.
"She looks like your mother doesn't she?" Roma asked, deeply thinking about what Romano might tell him next.
"Yes. Well, not so much anymore, but, in a photo when she was younger. She looked almost identical to a picture of Mamma that Francis showed me."
Roma nodded his head like the wise old man he had truly become.
"I suppose you want to know about her, then?"
"Yes, actually. If you don't mind telling me."
"No. Not at all. It needs to be said before it completely goes unspoken."
Romano wanted to ask what that meant, but he knew that that would deter Roma from the conversation they were about to have, the one Romano desperately needed to have.
"I think you've already figured out that she's your Grandmother." Roma stated as he looked up at Romano for an answer. The small nod was all he needed to continue.
It was a rainy day in November when Roma Vargas saw the person that would change his life forever.
Roma was twenty-seven years old. He was a handsome young man with brown, curly hair, and eyes that were a more golden hue of hazel. He came from humble beginnings that allowed him to end up in the current job he was working the moment he saw her. He worked in a small, yet classy restaurant, and his current role, at the time, was a bit undefined, as he found himself simply stepping into whatever positon was needed. If they were low on cooks, he proudly wore the chef's hat. He wasn't afraid to bus tables, and he adored conversation, so, naturally, his days as a waiter were his favorite. But on that day, he found himself using his acquired strength from previous, more strenuous, jobs, as he lifted boxes, upon boxes of product and carried them in through the restaurant's back door, the rain drenching him in the process.
Even though he was all the way at the back of the restaurant, even though he was up to his nose in boxes that had to be carried in, even though a part of him continued to get onto himself for only wearing a simple white t-shirt and a pair of jeans that day to work, causing the cold air and water to bite is skin and leave him shivering as he tried to hold the product steady, he saw her. With one glance, he knew who she was. She was his boss's, the very owner of the restaurant's, daughter. With one glance, he also knew that he had fallen for her.
She had the most beautiful silky black hair he had ever seen. She was of medium build, and had light, rosy skin, which differed very much from Roma's olive tone he had acquired from many years of working outside in Rome's blazing sun. These features were the perfect backdrop for the most gorgeous eyes he had ever seen. They were a deep violet, and the rain that day seemed to illuminate them beautifully, making them shine and sparkle like crystals, like two perfect amethyst stones. He knew she didn't usually come to the restaurant, as she was usually busy with her studies that her father liked to brag about her excelling in. Beautiful and smart, Roma really liked that.
"Hey, I'm going to take a smoke break. I'll be right back." Roma quickly told the other employee helping him. Roma didn't smoke, his fellow comrade knew this, but he also knew that Roma was one of the most hard working people there, who deserved a break, so he let him go.
He quickly walked in through the back door and rushed to the front, forgetting about the fact that he worked in a rather fancy establishment, with nice flooring, tables, and glass wear. It was the type of place that elegant men and women dressed in their best clothes to dine in, and would always end up with a bill containing more zeros than Roma had ever seen in his life. Yes, Roma definitely wasn't thinking as he carelessly darted to the front door as the young woman made her entrance, knocking over three trays the waiters were about to deliver, and soaking the nice, carpeted floor, all while wearing an old, sweaty t shirt and faded, paint-stained jeans, that even had a hole in the knee from previous jobs he had had to wear them to.
All he was thinking about was the girl in front of him.
She gave him a small smile when he finally made his way up to her, and immediately he threw on the charm. He gracefully took her coat and hung it neatly on the nearest rack, taking such good care of it, as if it was very expensive and important (and, to him, it was. It was certainly worth more than he could afford, at least). He then began to introduce himself.
"Ciao! I'm Roma Vargas." He said with his characteristically charming grin, before his almost goofy expression turned warmer.
"May I have the honor of leading you to your table?" he asked before he took her hand and began to lead her.
"Roma! What are you doing?!" An older, more sophisticated man yelled at Roma. It was his boss. The owner of the restaurant, and the beautiful young lady's father.
Roma quickly dropped his hand and tried to hide the disappointment on his face, along with the slight blush that he developed.
"I'm sorry, sir. I was just…" Roma started.
Before his boss could grow any angrier at him, a voice stopped the commotion all together.
"He was just leading me to my table." The young lady confidently told her father. Roma was happily surprised. He was finally able to hear her sweet voice.
'And, did she just stick up for me? To her own father?' he wondered.
"Yes, but look at the scene he's caused!" The man angrily turned to Roma.
"This will come out of your paycheck." He firmly told Roma.
Roma was saddened by this. He really did need the money, but, despite this, there was still a big part of him that didn't really care, that thought it was worth it just to see the boss's amazing daughter up close, to touch her hand, to hear her voice.
Roma then heard her voice again.
"But, father, it was really my fault." She told his boss.
Roma was shocked at this. She really was helping him out. Her father wasn't buying it, though.
"How is any of this your fault? You didn't soak the floor or break the glass wear." He asked, his anger rising in his tone.
"Well of course not! I just caused the accidents. You see, I called him over in a hurry to get out of the rain and seated. He was simply being a good employee. If anything, I think you should reward him for attending to my needs so quickly, on top of that, the service was simply phenomenal." She said this with a smile in Roma's direction. He instantly lit up and smiled back, before, again, turning to his boss as he began speaking.
"I guess I can let this one slide. I have other things to attend to." He looked toward his daughter.
"Just behave yourself." He firmly told her. Without losing his expression, he turned to Roma.
"And you, get back to work. If that product is soaked I really will have a reason to cut your pay."
"Yes sir." Both of them simultaneously said. Before parting, Roma turned to the girl.
"Thank you." He told her with a gracious smile.
She smiled back.
"Victoria." She said.
"What was that?" Roma asked her.
"That's the name to ask for when you visit me after school during the week. I always go to the library when class ends at four. I assume you know where the school is?"
"Yes." Roma said with a happy, surprised, and endearing expression.
The following Monday, Roma eagerly stepped foot on the school's campus. He came a few minutes before school ended so he would have more time to find the library, because he certainly did not want to be late. He quickly found it though, which caused him to actually be the one waiting on Victoria instead of having her wait on him. He preferred it that way, anyway, though.
He didn't even have to ask for her when he instantly saw her walking through the doors. She was wearing the same heavy coat from just a few nights before, when they first officially met, and her eyes were simply unmistakable.
"Victoria!" he called. Suddenly, he realized that he was, indeed, in a library and that he would have to keep it down. Embarrassed, he puts his hands over his lips before grinning as he took them away to mouth a "Sorry," to Victoria, and putting his hands back up.
She just smiled and made her way up the stairs, where Roma had spotted her.
When she finally made it to him, she grabbed his wrists to bring his arms down to rest at his sides as she whispered to him, "It's okay. I come here enough to truthfully tell you it happens all the time."
Roma smiled. She still hadn't let go of his wrists. Taking this opportunity, Roma gently shifted his arms to free them, and rearranged them to where his hands held hers.
He looked at her and whispered a, "You look so beautiful today." to her.
She blushed at this.
They ended up finding a seat on a sofa that was slightly distanced from the main parts of the library. They were in a location where they could more freely talk without getting shushed by a, to Roma, "scary librarian who feeds off the souls of simple, pasta loving, Italian men."
They talked about each other. She found out about his past, and he found out how boring his life was compared to hers. She was going to be a law student, who didn't mind her studies, but always felt her passions were elsewhere.
"What is it you love to do then?" Roma asked.
She hesitated before speaking.
"I like art." She told him, her head hung low, not daring to look at Roma.
"I think that's wonderful!" he happily told her.
She perked up at this. She gave Roma the prettiest smile he had ever seen, and, before he even had time to admire it, threw her arms around his neck. She pulled him into a deep hug, and Roma was the happiest he had ever been in his entire life. The moment was somewhat cut short when he realized she wasn't just hugging him, but his shoulder was damp. She was crying on his shoulder.
"Hey. What is it?" he calmly asked her, trying to soothe the one he already cared so much about.
Victoria then looked up at him.
Still sniffling, she said, "It's just…It's just that you're the first one to ever tell me that. My whole life, I feel like all I've been told is "no" and "you must do this instead". And I have to go along with it because that's what was set out for me, you know? I honestly hate it. But, then I think about you. Roma, you're so warm, and funny, and kind-hearted, and just wonderful, but you don't…you don't have half the things I do. I think I hate my life but then I realize that others have it worse and that I really am the 'poor little rich girl' people have made me out to be. I just…"
Before she could say another word, Roma kissed her to get her to just stop. After they broke away, he spoke again.
"That's not true and you know it. Money only pretends to change things, I've found. I've never had anything, but I've never hated my life, but that's because I've always had love and hope around me. Of course you hate your life. I would've hated your life, no offense. Sure, it might be nice to have better clothes, and jobs that didn't leave me aching the next morning, or a better education, but I deal with not having those things because they aren't worth my overall happiness. I hate how the world's changing these days. It used to be okay to be a simple person who loves life and everything around him, even if he owned next to nothing. But now, being poor is like committing a sin. And I don't even consider myself poor! Especially now that I've hit a certain jackpot."
"And what is that?" She asked him.
"It's you." He told her, causing her previous sadness to disappear. She hugged him again, this time, really letting him hold her close as she rested her head in his chest.
"You're more valuable than anything I've ever owned." She muttered into his chest. He caught every word and let himself really exhale and smile as pure bliss overtook him.
They began to meet every week day when Victoria's classes ended. Soon, they realized they were in love.
They had dreams of running away together. They would stay up into ungodly hours of the night plotting their escape. She would break into her father's safe the night of their departure, and get just enough money to start them off, but not to make a big difference, so her father wouldn't suspect that they stole it. She would meet him outside the library after already telling her father about a late night study session with her fellow honor students, where Roma would be waiting for her with a map. At exactly two a.m., they would hop the school's fence and run to the car repair shop Roma also worked at. There, they would steal one of the cars and drive northward until they hit Venice. In Venice, they would quickly leave their car and hop on a boat to whatever country they could get to, and change their names when they got there, making sure to have the same last name so they could live as a married couple and raise their family together. This type of conversation became more apparent as Victoria's pregnancy progressed.
Yes, they certainly did become close as their love grew. Victoria fooled her parents into thinking she was attending boarding school in France, when really, she faked fatally sick when she arrived at the school, was sent home. And she did go home. She went to the closest place to a home she had ever found. She went to Roma.
For about a year they lived a happy life together, like two newlyweds, who eventually, anxiously awaited the arrival of their first child. Roma knew it wasn't going to last. Victoria had one year left of high school, so she would have to return to her parents soon, without him and, somehow, without her child. He wanted to just marry her when she moved in, but that was impossible. So, they made the best of it. They acted like it was never going to end.
Until it did begin to end.
Roma held his two babies in his arms for the first time. Two babies. He couldn't believe it. They were so beautiful. The oldest by two minutes was a little boy who looked a lot like him, and the youngest was a sweet little girl who looked exactly like her mother. He turned to the bed that Victoria was laying on and just smiled at her as he walked toward her and let her hold their children, the one thing that, no matter what happened, would always keep the two soulmates connected. She looked into their eyes and instantly felt a wave of both instant love and regret. She loved these children. She regretted the fact that she would never know them, so she settled for the second best thing.
"Roma." She said.
"Yes dear?"
"Please take care of our babies." She smiled down at them once again. With teary eyes she began to speak again to Roma, to herself, to God or whoever might've been listening.
"Please let them be happy." She said. Her eyes completely filled with tears and Roma came to lie beside her on the bed, taking a baby, the little girl, in his arms.
This is how they slept every night until Roma woke up one morning and saw his two sweet babies staring at him with wide eyes, the little girl looking so much like her mother already, in the place of the love of his life.
Victoria's whole family moved away shortly after. And Roma only ever saw Victoria again through his own daughter.
"I just, sometimes feel like we could've done it, you know? We could've just taken the babies with us, and gotten married, and raised them like we planned. I know it's awful but…" Roma couldn't even continue talking. Hearing his grandfather's sobbing brought Romano back to the present, and he knew he needed to comfort the man.
Even though he hadn't talked at all, Romano still didn't feel like saying anything, so he just wrapped the old and withering man into an embrace.
Roma calmed down shortly after and pulled away, still gently holding onto Romano's shoulders. He tried to smile but it didn't reach his eyes, which still remained sad and tired. Nonetheless, he gently spoke to Romano in the clearest voice he could muster.
"My grandson, I love you so much, and have ever since I first saw you. I want you to take opportunities, and I want you to be happy." He then leaned in closer and whispered in Romano's ear, "Romano Lovino Vargas. To go to America, to learn, to succeed, to be found, to be loved. Momma and Grandpa, Feliciana and Roma Vargas."
Romano let himself smile a bit. Roma had told him what was written on the back of the grocery receipt that was sent to America with him. Roma, even in his old age, still remembered. He still remembered his love for his grandson, who had recently been lost and found. Sitting on the bed, watching Roma slowly begin to fall asleep, he felt as if he was being found all over again.
Romano stood up and was about to exit the room when a sudden impulse, or even a force of some kind, caused him to stop, turn around, and softly speak to his grandfather, even if he couldn't hear him.
"I love you, Grandpa Roma. It's going to be okay."
Those were Romano's last words to Roma.
As Romano stood in the church in his nice black suit he couldn't help but look around him before the ceremony started. He was curious as to who Roma knew during his lifetime. There wasn't a huge turnout, but there was enough for Romano to know just how loved his grandfather was. He immediately stopped his gaze when he spotted a familiar face across the room.
There, standing on the other side of the church, directly across from him, was Antonio. Antonio's eyes seemed to lock on Romano just as Romano's locked on him, and in an instant, the key was turned and they were walking toward each other. It was like a magnetic force pulled them, because, within seconds, Romano was less than a foot in front of Antonio, and, in half a second, Romano was in Antonio's arms, wondering why he ever left Antonio's embrace so long ago.
They let a few moments pass before they said anything, but eventually, Antonio broke the silence.
"I don't know exactly what to say, Romano…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for your loss…But I'm also sorry you never got to really know him. He was so good. He lit up every room he walked into, and everybody wasn't his friend. They were his family."
Antonio kept his arms around Romano as he pulled back a little, just to lock eyes with him again.
He smiled a bit.
"You know, the man taught me everything I know about the restaurant business. When I was young and just starting out as a server, he would call me every day and ask me how my shift went. If something went wrong, he would tell me how to fix it. Many years ago, before his health began to decline, he would visit at least three times a year. When he stayed he would always come to the Cantina while I was working and give me pointers. He taught me how to cook. After Francis, he was the first one I came out to. I only knew him a few years, but in that time, I really saw him as my Grandpa, too. And that's just the type of man he was. He was everyone's Grandpa."
Antonio's eyes began to water as a few stray tears began to stream down his cheeks.
"I'm going to really miss that man." He told Romano as he pulled him in for another hug.
Romano just let himself be hugged by the man he so dearly loved, even still. He let himself be hugged as he held onto Antonio for dear life, not wanting to lose anyone else anytime soon, not wanting to lose Antonio again.
Then, the ceremony started.
The preacher preached a beautiful sermon, or at least Romano assumed, as his Italian wasn't the best. What made it beautiful, to Romano, was the love in the room for his Grandpa Roma, and the man sitting beside him as Romano became overwhelmed by different emotions, all to have them disappear in sudden instants. The only thing that kept him completely tied to something, that allowed him to still feel something at certain points, was the hand that so firmly, yet, at the same time, delicately, held his.
Then, Feliciano, his little brother, got up to speak.
"Ciao. I'm Feliciano. One of Roma's grandsons." Feliciano said this while trying to smile, trying to be his usual, happy self, but something in him just wasn't allowing it. Not that day. Not at that moment.
It was like Romano could feel Feliciano's tears beginning in his own throat before Feliciano tried to speak again. It was like Feliciano's emotions suddenly weren't his own anymore, as both brothers felt a similar pain that only they felt. That only they shared. Feliciano continued despite this pain.
"Grandpa Roma was the most amazing person and grandfather. I like to think that, though he has three grandsons and others who he loved like grandchildren, I feel like I was the luckiest one. He raised me. When Momma died, he was really sad, and yet he still tried to make me happy. I didn't understand that much at the time, but now I understand the pain of losing someone. I loved him so much, but now he's gone. He's with Momma now." Feliciano paused.
"And, now I'm the one left alone." His tears flooded at this as he almost wasn't able to say the words.
"Now I know how bad he must've felt, being alone to raise me. I know how hard that must've been. Because I could never do that with how I feel right now. He was so strong, and all he did was give. He gave and gave until he just couldn't do it anymore. But, because of that, I think we all now have a special piece of him in our hearts, that we'll never forget. I can't ever forget the things he's done for me, the things he gave to me, the things he gave up for me." Feliciano then turned to the casket just a few feet away from him, that held his grandfather's body.
He didn't care if anyone else heard. This was the last physical thing he would see of his amazing Grandpa Roma. He turned his back to the audience before him and gently laid his hands on the closed casket's lid. He pressed his face as close as he could get to his Grandpa Roma, and whispered, "I love you, Grandpa Roma. Thank you for everything you've done for me."
He then quickly stood up as he felt a wave of hot tears hit him, and he ran out of the church. Romano, feeling the same wave overtake himself, ran after his little brother. Within moments, the two brothers were desperately clinging to each other.
Romano spoke first.
"Feliciano, I know we haven't talked much in the past, but I get it. I know we weren't raised even close to the same, but I feel what you feel. We're brothers. I want you to know that aren't alone, okay? We have each other, and we always will. We have the people that are here today, sweating like pigs in their black suits and dresses in that church that, for some reason, doesn't have air conditioning when its ninety degrees outside…um thirty-two degrees in Celsius…and…and…I just love you, okay? I know I haven't known you long, or talked to you much, but I love this family, and I love being an older brother, and I love you, Feli."
Feliciano didn't say much of anything for a while, he just let himself settle into Romano's arms. Finally, he began to stir and said something.
"What was that?" Romano asked.
"I'm hot. Like you said, it's thirty-two degrees out here." He wiggled himself out of Romano's arms. Then, he looked up and smiled at Romano.
"And I said that you're my brother, and that I love you, too."
Romano just smiled at this. He finally looked around to see that the actual funeral was over, and the people were exiting the church, some going home, some staying for the burial. Romano quickly glanced at Francis, hoping he was okay, and was relieved to find him standing with the other person he was worried about, Antonio, and some other man he didn't know. The other man was relatively tall, with pale skin, hair that was practically white, and red eyes. From the way they were all talking to each other, still a bit sad, but with a somewhat lighter aura about them, Romano assumed that they must've been old college friends. That was where Francis originally met Antonio, after all. Romano brought his attention back to Feliciano, and smiled at him once again.
"Hey Feli?" he asked.
"Yes, Romano?"
"We'll always have each other, okay? Anytime you feel alone, you can always turn to me, even if I'm not physically there to turn to." Romano thought for a moment.
"But, you know what? I'm going to try to actually be here more."
"Really?" Feliciano asked, happily perplexed.
"Really. We're family. Family shouldn't be apart for that long."
And Romano meant it. He loved these people. He loved Roma, but was too absent to spend enough time with him. He loved Francis, and Feliciano, and Antonio. He loved Antonio with all his heart, even still.
He looked out to the crowd again and found Antonio, who, once again, caught his gaze. He knew he would see his family more, and, in turn, see Antonio, but would that be enough?
He thought about his life there and his life in America. His carefully planned life with his parents, and Alfred, and Victoria, his grandmother. That brought back another regret, Victoria didn't come. Victoria didn't even know.
As much as Romano hated it, he knew that in another week he would find himself on a plane again, leaving his family behind for the second time. He knew about the pain he would experience all over again, coupled with new pain from his loss, but he had to go back.
He brought his focus back to Antonio.
He would have to leave him again. He would have to leave them all again.
That's when he realized he left his camera in America.