Author's Note: Here's the final chapter in this series! Fair warning that this one ended up being much longer than the other chapters. The couples are also written in a different order than the previous two parts, as I wrote them in chronological order of when they reconnected this time around.
I would strongly recommend reading my story, "Father, Forgive Him" before reading this part so that you can more fully appreciate some of the conversations that take place.
Chapter 3: We'll Find a Way of Forgiving
Diesel wasn't the same person after that night. He couldn't be.
Losing Mamie, after watching two boys who had been like his brothers die, had been the wake up call he finally needed to start turning his life around. He just wished it hadn't taken so much violence and destruction to open his eyes.
A week after the rumble, after watching Riff get laid to rest, Diesel got a job at the auto repair shop near his apartment. It was grunt work, but honest work.
Mamie didn't want to see him, but he left notes for her on the fire escape outside her bedroom window. He told her all about his new job and promised her that he and the Jets were done with fighting. He told her how much he missed her. Most of all, he told her how sorry he was.
"I'm nevur gunna stop trieing ta mak it up ta you," he often wrote. His spelling had always been horrible.
Mamie never responded, but the notes were always gone whenever he went to drop off another one.
It was two months after the rumble when Diesel discovered a small note resting under a rock on the fire escape when he went to drop off one of his messages. His heart had sunk, thinking Mamie was finally starting to ignore his letters, until he opened it up and recognized Mamie's delicate handwriting.
Will you meet me at the park? She'd included a date and time underneath.
Their first meeting had been awkward, stiff. Mamie had kept her distance from him, which had made the dull ache inside his chest sharpen into the piercing agony he'd experienced for weeks after the rumble. But she had agreed to see him again, just to catch up.
For the next couple weeks, Diesel and Mamie would meet whenever Diesel had time off from work, always in a public place like the park or a diner. Their conversations became easier, more comfortable as time went on. Mamie even started to laugh with him again, like she used to. He still loved her so much, but he knew he didn't deserve her love. He never pushed her for anything more than her friendship, knowing he'd be lucky to have that.
That's why he was shocked when Mamie appeared at the auto repair shop one morning, tears brimming in her eyes as she found him bent over the hood of a car.
"Mamie? What's wrong?" Diesel asked worriedly, grabbing a rag in an attempt to rub the grease off his arms.
"I…I miss you!" Mamie exclaimed, her chin wobbling as she looked up at him. "I know I said that I would never forgive ya, but I…I want to!"
Heart hammering in his chest, Diesel dropped the rag he had been holding and slowly began to approach her, not daring to believe that what she was saying could actually be true.
"Mamie…"
"What yous did…it was so awful," Mamie breathed out, a few tears trickling down her cheeks. "But I can see that ya've really been tryin' ta change. I've been readin' yer letters an'…I believe ya. I believe yer tryin' ta be better." She stood before him, twisting her hands nervously. "An', despite everythin', I never stopped lovin' ya," she confessed.
Mamie's words brought Diesel to his knees. He fell down before her, wrapping his arms around her waist and weeping into the front of her dress. "I'm sorry, Mamie, I'm so sorry!"
"I forgive ya," Mamie sobbed, holding onto him as he clung to her. "I forgive ya." She slid to the floor to meet him, the two of them clinging to one another in the midst of the auto repair shop.
"I love you, Mamie," Diesel whispered, his tears making tracks through the dirt that coated his face.
"I love you, too, Diesel," Mamie said softly, kissing his tears away. "I never stopped."
Ice had thought he knew what emptiness was, but he'd never felt as empty as he did in the wake of the rumble. There were nights when he still woke up in a cold sweat, the memory of Riff's death haunting his dreams. He could still feel the weight of Tony's lifeless body resting on his shoulder as he and the others carried him into Doc's.
In his deepest moments of grief, he always reached out for her, only to be slapped with the realization that she wasn't there.
The memory of Karen's eyes, filled with such disgust and disappointment, was like a knife in his chest. He had let her down. He had let himself down. He couldn't even forgive himself, so how could he ever expect her to forgive him?
Ice tried to push the pain away, throwing himself into working odd jobs around the neighborhood. With Riff gone, the other Jets were looking to him now for guidance, for direction. Without their girls, they only had each other to cling to in the midst of their grief and confusion. Ice wanted to set the example he'd failed to set that night. No more fighting. No more causing trouble for the Puerto Ricans. No more stealing or pranking.
He'd pass the malt shop some days, just to catch a glimpse of her. There were times when he thought she knew he was there, but she never looked at him. He missed her so much, but he knew he deserved her rejection.
When Diesel and Mamie got back together, Ice started to wonder if maybe all hope with Karen wasn't completely lost. One day, he plucked up the nerve to walk inside the malt shop and take a seat at the counter.
Karen ignored him for as long as she could until her boss finally nudged her in his direction with a scowl.
"What do ya want?" Karen asked icily, not meeting his eyes.
"I really miss ya," Ice said softly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her hand.
Karen glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I know ya hate me. I don't blame ya," Ice told her. "I hate me, too. I just wanted ya ta know that I'm workin' every day ta be better. It ain't gonna change what happened or what I did, but for what it's worth, I am sorry. I wanna be a better guy." With that, he got up and left the malt shop, determined not to bother her anymore.
A week later, on his way home from working at the docks, Ice just happened to catch sight of her in the dim glow of the streetlight, closing up the malt shop on her own. "Karen?" he called out softly, not wanting to scare her.
Karen turned to look at him. She didn't smile, but her expression wasn't as cold as it had been. "What are ya doin' here?" she asked.
"I was just on my way home from the docks. I been workin' there some days," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked around at the dark, deserted streets. "Can I walk ya home?"
He expected her to refuse, but to his surprise, she nodded her head. They walked in silence for a few minutes, tension thick in the air. "Mamie's been tellin' me about what yous have been up ta," Karen finally said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Yeah?" Ice murmured, his mouth feeling a little dry. "Funny about her an' Diesel, huh?"
"She always adored him," Karen replied, tugging on her sweater lightly. "I remember what that felt like," she added, her words cutting him to the quick.
"Me, too," Ice said softly as they came to a stop in front of her apartment building.
The two of them were quiet for a long time, just staring at one another. "If ya want…I don't mind if ya walk me home some nights," Karen began slowly, biting her lower lip awkwardly.
So for the next few weeks, whenever Karen was working the night shift, Ice would walk her home on his way home from work. Their conversations began to flow more naturally, the way they once had when they'd been able to bare their souls to one another.
"Good night, Ka," Ice said one night, the first time he'd used the nickname in months. Without thinking about it, he leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek, then froze. "God, I'm sorry. I don't know why I—"
He was cut off as her lips met his, her arms sliding around his neck. He could feel her tears, wet and salty against his cheeks. Or maybe those were his tears.
"Karen, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Ice breathed against her lips, just grateful for the opportunity to hold her in his arms once again.
"I…I forgive ya, Ice," Karen whispered back, burying her face in his neck as she held him. "I forgive ya."
Every time Skink saw Sorella around the neighborhood in the weeks and months following the rumble, he wanted to cry. He missed her so much.
Their eyes had met on the street once. She'd been out with Tat, Gussie, Maxie, and Sweden. He didn't know if she'd known he was there, but she'd turned around suddenly and their eyes had met for the briefest of moments. Maxie was the one who had grabbed her arm, scowling at him as they had all hurried away.
One of Skink's cousins worked for the Sanitation Department and offered to help him get a job there. With all the other Jets scrambling to get their lives together in the wake of Riff's death, Skink had taken him up on the offer. He knew he had to change. He wanted to be better than what he had been. He wanted to be a man who deserved Sorella, though he doubted he ever would be.
It was at the market a couple months after the rumble that he ran into her on her own for the first time. They'd both been equally startled, Sorella clutching her basket a little closer to her chest, which had made his heart ache. His sweet Ella. He scared her now. That was what he had become.
"How are you?" Skink asked, keeping his distance so as to avoid upsetting her.
"Fine," Sorella replied quickly, staring up at him uncertainly. "How are you?" she asked, out of polite instinct.
"Fine," Skink nodded, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.
"I…I heard ya got a job with the Sanitation Department," Sorella blurted out, blushing slightly.
"I did. It's pretty hard work," he responded, chuckling slightly. "But good work. I'm tryin' real hard ta turn things around." He paused for a moment before adding, "I'd like ta be someone you could be proud of one day."
Tears glistened in her eyes as she cleared her throat, lowering her head. "Good luck, Skink," she murmured before hurrying off.
After that day in the market, he began seeing her more frequently. She was on her own so often that he started wondering if she was making it a point to stroll the neighborhood by herself on the off chance that they would bump into each other. But no, that was just wishful thinking.
Or so he thought until Diesel casually asked one day, "Ya seen Sorella around the neighborhood lately?"
"Sometimes," Skink nodded, glancing over at his friend curiously. "Why?"
"Mamie said she's been askin' about ya," Diesel told him, raising his eyebrows.
The next time he saw her, he wasn't so afraid to talk to her. He asked her to lunch, which she accepted. It hurt to spend time with her and know that she wasn't his anymore, but he soaked up any and all time he could spend in her presence.
Over time, her laughter came easier and her smiles grew brighter. She genuinely seemed happy to see him whenever they spent time together. While walking her home one day, Skink turned to her, a serious look on his face. "Sorella, I really am sorry. I know sorry will never be enough, but I want ya ta know that if I could go back an' change everythin', I would. I'll never not be ashamed o' what we did."
"Oh, Skink," Sorella replied softly, reaching out to gently touch his cheek. "I…I forgive you."
"Sorella…" Skink breathed out, unable to believe his ears.
She smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around him. "Call me Ella," she whispered, kissing him slowly.
Big Deal felt very lost in the weeks following the rumble. In one night, everything he'd thought he'd known, everything he'd held dear, crumbled around him. He'd lost Riff. He'd lost Natalie. He'd lost a part of himself. He didn't know how he would do it, but he knew he needed to change.
He missed Natalie so much. She had always been his guiding star, the one who pointed him in the direction he needed to go and gave him the confidence he needed to be able to go there. He needed her now more than ever, but he had betrayed her. He had hurt her. He had hurt so many people. She had been right to reject him, to turn away from him. He didn't deserve her.
After Riff's funeral, following the lead of the other Jets, Big Deal started looking for a place to work. It wasn't easy, considering honest labor had never been something he'd sought out before, but he tried. A-Rab's uncle ended up offering him some work at the club that he owned. It wasn't much—usually just lugging boxes, sweeping the floors, or working security in the evenings—but it was something.
When Mamie finally took Diesel back, Big Deal was happy, but not altogether surprised. Mamie had always been the gentlest and most forgiving of the girls, at least where Diesel was concerned. But when Karen and Sorella forgave Ice and Skink as well, Big Deal began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that Natalie could forgive him, too.
He tried calling her a few times, just wanting to hear the sound of her voice again, but she hung up on him every time. The last time he called, it was her 12-year-old brother who answered the phone.
"Leave Nat alone! She cries every time ya call here," he'd said angrily, before slamming the phone down himself.
Defeated, Big Deal swore he would leave her alone after that. He didn't want to hurt her any more than he already had. That's why he was so surprised when he received a phone call one day and heard a familiar voice on the other end of the line.
"I know ya've been tryin' ta call me," Natalie said, her voice even sweeter than he remembered it. "I…I wasn't ready ta talk ta ya then, but I think I am now. Would ya like ta meet for coffee?"
He would have agreed to meet for a root canal if she had asked. The two of them met the next day at a nearby diner, each of them filling each other in on what they had been up to. There was an awkwardness in the air that had never existed between them before, but she ended their time together by saying, "I'm happy for ya, David." She was the only one who ever called him by his real name. "It seems like yer doin' well."
"I miss ya, Natalie," he told her honestly, just grateful for any time he was able to spend with her.
She was quiet for a moment. "I miss ya, too," she said softly, so softly he almost could have missed it.
They started to talk on the phone regularly after that. He updated her on how his job was going and told her about the ways that he and the Jets were trying to change for the better. She always offered him encouragement.
"I really am sorry," Big Deal said one day, knowing he could never say it enough times to make up for what he had done. "What we did…what I did…I was like an animal an'…well, I'm just really sorry."
"I know," Natalie replied quietly.
Natalie's forgiveness came softly and sweetly, which was just how she was. Big Deal was walking her home one afternoon after they'd gone out for coffee again, when she'd suddenly turned and looked at him.
"David," she said, their eyes meeting as he turned his head to look at her. "I just wanted ya ta know that I know ya've been tryin' ta turn yer life around an' be better. I see it. I can see that ya really are sorry for everythin' that happened an' I'm…I'm proud of ya."
"Thank you, Nat," Big Deal murmured, her words meaning more to him than she could ever know.
"An', David?"
"Yeah, Nat?"
"I forgive ya."
For Little Moly, life could never be the same after the rumble. Though he was one of the youngest members of the Jets, he felt like he had aged fifteen years over the course of that one terrible night. Death had never seemed like a real possibility until that night, until he'd watched Riff and Bernardo die before his very eyes. And there was no unseeing that, no going back from that.
There was no going back from what they had done afterward either. Even in their grief, even in their anger, Little Moly knew there was no excuse for what they had done to Bernardo's girl. Valentina had been right. They'd done nothing but disgrace themselves and dishonor Riff's memory.
And Sweden…his sweet Sweden hadn't even been able to look at him after that. Her arms had always been the place where he found comfort, but he lost the right to call them his that night. He missed her so much.
He often saw her around the neighborhood, usually with some of the other girls, while he was working. He was too young to find a job in construction or on the docks like some of the other Jets were doing, but he'd managed to find work as a delivery boy, which meant that he was frequently on the move all over town.
His heart had skipped several beats the first time he realized that one of his deliveries was to Sweden's apartment. Since she lived with her grandparents and they were having a harder time getting around, they often had things delivered.
He'd been at a loss for words when she'd opened the door, and evidently so had she. She'd simply snatched the package out of his hand and slammed the door in his face. He knew he deserved it, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
In the weeks that followed, he had to make several more deliveries to her apartment. Her reception was always chilly, but eventually she stopped slamming the door in his face. On a couple rare occasions, she even wished him a good day.
One day, when he was making deliveries in the middle of a rainstorm, she offered him an umbrella from her apartment. "I don't want ya ta get sick," she said, biting her lip.
That small opening was all they had needed to slowly begin communicating again. They began spending more and more time talking to each other in the hallway outside her apartment. Sometimes, when she knew he'd be coming, she even made him lunch or gave him a thermos filled with coffee. It felt good to be the recipient of her smiles once more.
Skink was the one who told him that Sweden had been asking Sorella about him, about everything that he was up to lately and what the Jets were doing. Now that he was back with Sorella, Skink encouraged Little Moly to invite Sweden to come to the park with them, as a double date of sorts.
To Little Moly's surprise, Sweden accepted. "Only 'cause Sorella's gonna be there," she explained.
They began spending more time together after that and Little Moly fell in love with Sweden all over again. He knew she'd probably never feel the same way about him again though, which ate at his heart terribly.
One day, a few months after that night when she'd told him to leave and never come back, Little Moly arrived outside her apartment, no packages in hand.
"I didn't think we'd ordered anythin'—"
"Ya didn't," Little Moly said, shaking his head as he stared at her. "I just…I needed ta ask ya somethin'. Do ya think…do ya think ya could ever forgive me?"
Eyes widening, she stared at him for several minutes without saying anything. Some sort of realization seemed to dawn on her, some private revelation that came to her in that moment. Suddenly stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, tears springing into her eyes.
"I already have."
Balkan had always known how much he loved Tat, but he never realized how much he had taken her love for granted until he lost it. The sound of his sweet Tat screaming, "I hate you!" had haunted him every night since the rumble.
But the truth was, he deserved her hate. What he had done that night…what they had all done…he was filled with shame every time he thought about it. He had tried to justify it at first, at least in his own mind. They had just lost Riff. It was Bernardo's blade that had killed him. Bernardo's girl was just there to make more trouble. If they couldn't punish Bernardo for what he had done, then they could at least punish his girl.
The sight of Tat lying on her bed, weeping, had slapped the sense into him. As much as he may have hated Bernardo, the truth was that he hadn't meant to kill Riff. And his girl hadn't been looking to make any more trouble. He and the Jets had just…they'd just been looking for a reason to take their grief and their pain and their anger out on someone else. And now Tony was dead, too, because they had acted like animals.
"Velma asked me how we woulda felt if the Sharks did ta Grazi what we did ta Anita," Mouthpiece had told them all solemnly. No one had said a word, all of them too ashamed to even imagine such a thing.
As much as he loved her and as much as he missed her, Balkan knew Tat was better off without a loser like him. He vowed to stay as far away from her as possible.
He wasn't as strong as he'd hoped he'd be though, and eventually he began finding reasons to walk past her uncle's bakery, wondering if he would be able to catch a glimpse of her. It was Gussie he ran into first, however, about a month after the rumble.
"Leave my sister alone. She doesn't want ta see ya," Gussie said coldly, wiping her hands on her apron. "You broke her heart."
As much as he and Gussie had always bickered with each other, he couldn't fault her for looking out for her twin. He had broken Tat's heart, as well as his own, and he didn't deserve to be forgiven for that.
It wasn't until over two months after the rumble that he actually got to see her again. He just happened to be passing the market where she was running errands with Sorella and Sweden. He'd stopped in his tracks immediately, struck by how beautiful she was. Without stopping to think better of it, he'd approached her, just wanting to be close to her for a minute.
She'd been startled at the sight of him, her cheeks turning pink as she stared up at him.
"Hi," he said slowly, not knowing what else to say but knowing that he needed to be near her.
"Hi," Tat replied cautiously, glancing over her shoulder to see if Sorella and Sweden were nearby.
"I didn't mean ta bother ya. I just saw ya over here an' I wanted ta…" His sentence trailed off as he gazed down at her. God, he missed her so much. "Ya look good, Tat."
"So do you," she admitted, lowering her eyes and staring down at her feet. "I heard ya started workin' at one o' the construction sites," she said slowly, clutching her shopping basket tightly.
"I did. Me an' some o' the other guys," Balkan nodded, fighting the urge to reach out and take her hand in his.
"That's good. I'm proud o' ya," Tat replied, the words seeming to slip out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Um, I…I have ta go," she added hurriedly, quickly moving away from him.
When the girls started slowly offering their forgiveness to some of the guys, the other Jets started holding out more hope that their girls would forgive them, too. No one wanted to actually admit it, but they were a mess without their girls. Balkan, however, refused to let that hope rise within him. Tat was too good for him and he knew that now. She shouldn't forgive him and she shouldn't take him back.
It was raining the night Balkan happened to pass by the bakery, only to find Tat on her own by the curb, wrestling with a large garbage bag that had burst open.
"Tat! What are ya doin'?" Balkan had exclaimed without a second thought, rushing over to help her. "Where's Gussie?"
"She's sick, so it's just me tonight," Tat told him, brushing the raindrops off her face as she continued to try to retrieve all the scraps of garbage that had spilled everywhere.
"Leave it, Tat, I'll take care of it," Balkan told her, gathering up wet garbage as he did so.
"Ya don't need to…"
"Tat, please, let me do this for ya," Balkan insisted, their eyes meeting as the rain continued to fall around them.
"Fine, but I'm helpin'," Tat finally said, the two of them working for the next several minutes to clean up the mess that had been made.
When it was all done, Tat tried to get Balkan to come into the bakery to warm up. "I'll make ya some coffee," she told him, both of them soaked to the bone.
"No, I should go," Balkan told her, shaking his head.
"Balkan…"
He wasn't sure how long they stood there in the rain staring at each other, or who moved first, but suddenly she was in his arms and their lips were meeting in an explosive kiss, filled with months of desire and longing.
"No," Balkan finally said, reluctantly distancing himself from her. "No. I'm nothin' but bad news, Tat. Nothin' but garbage that's gonna bring ya down."
"That's not true!" Tat cried, trying to get closer to him, though he held her at arms length. "Yer a good guy, Balkan."
"No, I ain't! Ya know I ain't. What I did—"
"I forgive ya," Tat told him, her tears joining the raindrops that were dripping down her face.
"What?" Balkan exclaimed, unable to believe what he was hearing.
"I forgive ya," Tat repeated, taking advantage of his sudden lack of defense and stepping closer to him. "I love you."
Balkan, who usually hated showing his emotions in private, let alone in public, wept on the street that night as he took Tat into his arms and kissed her in the rain.
Snowboy knew that he could never really love Gussie the way she deserved to be loved until he found a way to remove the hate that had burrowed its way inside his heart. He wasn't sure when it had taken root exactly, but that night after the rumble, he knew he had been consumed by it. And it had destroyed him.
He'd said and done awful things that night. Every time that he tried to look back and reflect on what had happened in Doc's, he cringed in shame. Then he would remember the look of horror and disgust on Gussie's face, the pain that had flashed in her eyes when she'd pulled away from him, and the wounds in his heart would all reopen afresh.
She had been the best thing in his life and his own selfishness and cruelty had pushed her away. Snowboy knew that even if Gussie never forgave him, which she had every right not to do, he had to find a way to atone for his actions somehow.
After that night, per Ice's direct orders and an unspoken agreement on the Jets' part, there was no more troublemaking for the Puerto Ricans. But Snowboy took it a step further. He still had plenty of things that he'd stolen from the PRs' stores, some things taken for necessity and some taken just for the thrill of it. Though he didn't quite have the nerve to face the storeowners themselves, he left the items he'd stolen outside their storefronts, including signs he'd torn down in the past few months.
He started working with Balkan and a few of the other guys, getting hired out to work a few different construction jobs around the city. Before Riff's death, he never would have thought about getting a job like that, but a lot had changed since they'd lost Riff. Everything had changed.
He missed Gussie with every fiber of his being, but he knew she didn't want to see him. Even if he managed to run into her, she wouldn't want to talk to him. And how could he blame her? Why would someone like her ever want to be associated with a guy like him after what he'd done that night?
Snowboy kept his head down when some of the girls began forgiving the Jets, not daring to get his hopes up about a future with Gussie. Even when Tat forgave Balkan, he refused to let it change anything in his mind. He adored Gussie, but even he could admit that she was much more hardheaded and stubborn than her twin sister. Just because Tat had found it in her heart to forgive didn't mean Gussie would.
His suspicions were confirmed when Balkan told him, "Gussie's apparently mad at Tat for forgivin' me. Can't tell if it's the forgiveness in general she has a problem with or just the fact that it's me bein' forgiven." He rolled his eyes.
"She has a right ta still be pissed off," Snowboy said, defensive as always when it came to Gussie.
"I know, buddy boy," Balkan replied, sobering as he put a hand on Snowboy's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know ya miss her."
"She ain't never gonna look at me like she used ta, but it's my fault," Snowboy said sadly, trying his best to accept that reality.
As much as Gussie drove him insane, Balkan knew how much she meant to Snowboy, and so he began to pass information about what Snowboy was up to to Tat, hoping she would find a way to relay the information to her sister. Snowboy didn't know he knew, but Balkan made sure to include the fact that Snowboy had been returning all his stolen merchandise to the Puerto Ricans.
It was Gussie herself who finally approached Snowboy first, accompanying Tat when she went to bring lunch to Balkan at one of his job sites.
"I wanna talk ta ya," she told him, as blunt and to the point as ever.
Dumbfounded, Snowboy just followed her, the two of them walking a few feet away so that they could have a tiny bit of privacy.
"Is it really true what ya've been doin'?" Gussie demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Returnin' all the stuff ya stole back to the PRs?"
Startled, Snowboy stared down at her. "How did ya know that?" He didn't think anybody knew about that.
"Balkan told Tat an' Tat told me," Gussie told him, as if it was obvious. "Why've ya been doin' that?" she asked, her stern defenses weakening slightly as her curiosity slipped through.
Snowboy rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "'Cause it was shitty that I did that, takin' all that stuff. Especially since I didn't even need most of it. I've done a lot o' shitty things," he said, the two of them sharing a knowing look. "Just tryin' ta make up for some of it. I know I'll never be able ta make up for all of it," he added quietly.
Gussie was quiet for a few moments, just staring at him. "That's decent of ya," she finally said, their eyes meeting again.
"That means a lot, Gus. Comin' from you," Snowboy said sincerely.
She seemed suddenly overwhelmed. "I gotta go," she told him quickly, hurrying off to find her sister and get out of there.
After that day, however, Gussie began to accompany Tat more often whenever she came to bring Balkan his lunch. They'd talk whenever she stopped by. Snowboy just enjoyed getting to see her again.
"I've really missed ya, Gus," he told her one day when he and Balkan decided to walk the girls back to the bakery. Balkan and Tat were far ahead of them, too busy mooning over each other to pay much heed to what he and Gussie were doing.
"I've missed ya, too, Snowboy," Gussie replied hoarsely, suddenly turning her head as tears began to leak out of her eyes.
"Oh, Gus, don't cry. Please don't cry," Snowboy begged, feeling guilty once again.
"How do ya expect me not ta cry?" Gussie demanded, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I miss ya, damnit! An' I swore I wouldn't forgive ya, but then ya go around tryin' ta fix things an' fix yerself an' make everythin' better, an' I go ahead an' do it anyway!"
"What?" Snowboy asked, stopping dead in his tracks on the sidewalk. "Gussie, what did ya say?"
"Oh, ya heard me! I forgive ya, ya idiot!" Gussie snapped through her tears, trying to wipe them away quickly, but it was no use. They were falling too fast.
"Gus," Snowboy breathed out, taking a tentative step closer to her.
"Ya gonna stand there or ya gonna kiss me?" Gussie asked, tipping her face upwards.
Laughing like he hadn't laughed in months, Snowboy cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
Numbers had never been one to dwell on the past or get caught up in regret, but regret was practically all he had been able to feel since the rumble. He regretted not talking Riff out of buying that gun. He regretted not doing more at the rumble to somehow prevent what had ended up happening. Most of all, he regretted what he had done afterward. He and the Jets were no saints, far from it, but he knew they had crossed a line that night in Doc's. Graziella had told them that Riff would be ashamed of them, and she was right. He was ashamed of himself. He knew Maxie was ashamed of him. He couldn't erase the memory of their breakup from his mind.
Now he knew why he never used to dwell on regret. It was bitter as hell.
Like the other Jets, Numbers threw himself into making a new start, working odd jobs where he could find them. Sometimes he worked on the docks, sometimes on construction jobs, sometimes he even worked with Big Deal and A-Rab at the club A-Rab's uncle owned. At first, he did it mainly as a way to keep his mind off things. He knew if he dwelt too much on that night, he would go crazy. If he thought too much about losing Maxie, he would lose his mind. So he threw himself into working. Over time, however, he found that he actually liked it. It felt good to put in an honest day's work and have money in his pocket that he had actually earned with his own two hands.
Whenever he saw Maxie on the street, she would turn her face and hurry away from him. It shattered his heart, but what else could he expect from her? He had shattered her heart that night, so it only seemed right that his heart be broken, too. He missed her though. More than anything.
A few months after the rumble, on his way to work, Numbers happened to catch sight of her standing outside a corner store, a cigarette perched between her lips as she fiddled with her lighter. It was clearly jammed.
"Need a light?" Numbers asked, approaching her carefully. He already had his lighter in hand.
The cigarette nearly fell out of Maxie's mouth as she looked up at him, the touch of a scowl on her lips. "Stupid thing won't work," she muttered, tossing her lighter back into her purse. "Sure ya have time? Don't have ta run off ta play with the Jets?" she asked sarcastically.
He deserved that. Even when they'd been together, he'd put the Jets before her a number of times. "I'm on my way ta work actually," he told her, leaning forward to light the cigarette she held out to him, clenched between her lips.
She took a puff, gazing up at him. "I did hear from some o' the girls that yous have been workin'," she admitted, crossing her arms as she continued to smoke.
"Never thought the day would come or that I'd be sayin' this, but I actually like it. It feels good ta do somethin'…I don't know…kinda worthwhile. Ya know?" he asked, watching her.
"Yeah," Maxie nodded, her eyes meeting his. They gazed at each other for a couple minutes, so many unspoken thoughts and questions passing between them.
"I should go," Numbers finally said, reluctant to walk away from her, but knowing there was nothing left for them. He had ruined what they'd had.
"Numbers?" Maxie called out as he started to head towards his job site. When he turned, she asked, "Ya gonna be around later? Maybe we could go for a walk or somethin'."
So they'd started going on walks together in the evenings, catching up and getting to know one another again. He tried to show her all the ways he was working to change, not just with words, but with his actions. She listened whenever he got caught up in his grief, remembering Riff and all that had been lost.
"Grazi's havin' a real hard time. Sometimes it helps when we just sit an' listen," Maxie explained, gently squeezing his shoulder.
Numbers felt grieved at the thought of Graziella struggling. She wouldn't see any of them, but he knew Riff would be disappointed that they weren't looking out for his girl.
One night, while he was walking her home, Numbers felt overcome with shame and regret. "I'm sorry, Maxie. I'm so sorry. Ya were right when ya said ya've forgiven me for so much, an' I don't deserve ta be forgiven for what I did that night. But I won't ever stop sayin' I'm sorry 'cause I am. I really am."
"Oh, Numbers," Maxie murmured, looking up at him as he fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Numbers, I really thought that I could never forgive ya for what ya did. I didn't want ta forgive ya. But holdin' onto anger, holdin' on ta bitterness, it just eats ya up inside. I'm startin' ta see, after everythin', that forgiveness is the only way ta move forward." She took his hands in hers and waited until he met her eyes. "I forgive ya, Numbers."
Knowing he didn't deserve such grace from her, Numbers broke down crying. Maxie immediately wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as he clung to her.
"I love you, Maxie," Numbers whispered into her hair. He had never stopped.
She squeezed him tightly as she whispered back, "I love you, too."
Yer a disgustin' pig! Mack's words had been echoing in Tiger's mind every day since that night. Only animals do what yous did!
She was right. He had been a pig. An animal. No, worse than an animal. Animals, at least, had no real sense of right and wrong. But Tiger did. He'd known what they were doing that night was wrong. He'd felt it in his bones as they'd pinned Bernardo's girl to the floor. But he hadn't cared. He'd been so filled with grief and rage and hate that he didn't care who he hurt in his wake. He'd hurt Anita. He'd hurt Mack. He'd hurt himself.
Every day, when he looked in the mirror, Mack's harsh accusation rang through his mind and he didn't try to fight against it. She had been right.
Tiger didn't know how to go about making things right. There were some things that couldn't be changed. He couldn't bring Riff or Tony back. He couldn't undo what he and the Jets had done that night in Doc's. On his darkest days, he wondered if he really was completely beyond all hope.
His neighbor owned a butcher shop in the neighborhood and he ended up giving Tiger some work there. It was all menial stuff—sweeping the floors, cleaning the counters, hauling boxes, making deliveries. But he threw himself into it. His grandmother had passed away when he was small, but he remembered that she used to tell him that even the smallest jobs mattered when they were done with care. She'd told him and his cousins that the most boring work could even be offered up as a kind of sacrifice for other people. Tiger wasn't sure if that was true, but he knew his grandmother had been a good woman, and so he offered up even his most mundane tasks as a small penance for the mistakes of his past. He knew it would never make up completely for what he had done, but it helped him from feeling completely hopeless.
When Numbers and Maxie reconciled, Tiger couldn't help but ask Numbers if he had seen Mack or heard anything about her. She and Maxie were best friends and the four of them had been together all the time before…well, before.
"Maxie said she's doin' okay," Numbers told him sympathetically. "She actually got a job workin' as a salesgirl in Gimbels."
Tiger wasn't expecting to see her the day she walked into the butcher shop, evidently having just gotten off a shift at Gimbels from the way she was dressed. Tiger tried to hide in the back, but his neighbor suddenly called, "Constantine, take the girl's order, will ya? I'll be there in a minute."
Swallowing nervously, he'd had no choice but to step up to the counter. She looked shocked to see him, dropping her purse with a clatter. Her lipstick, change purse, and several other items spilled onto the floor, rolling all over the place.
"Let me help ya," Tiger said hurriedly, running around the counter. He snatched up her lipstick tube and keys, dropping them into her limp hand.
"I wasn't expectin'…I didn't know ya'd be…" Mack had been at a loss for words, staring at him. Without another word, she'd turned and practically ran out of the store, fleeing from him.
Tiger didn't know why he'd expected anything different, but her reaction had hurt like hell all the same.
He was attempting to accept the fact that Mack would never be a part of his life again when she'd suddenly appeared in the butcher shop again one day, looking more prepared this time.
"I'm sorry about the other day," Mack said slowly, looking at him warily.
"Ya don't need ta apologize ta me, Mack. For anythin'," Tiger told her.
"I wasn't expectin' ta see ya here. I didn't know…well, Maxie ended up tellin' me ya got a job here. That's good," Mack said, chewing on her lower lip. He knew that was a nervous habit of hers.
"I heard ya got a job at Gimbels. That's good. Very grown up of ya," Tiger replied with a slight smile.
"I think all o' us had ta grow up that night," Mack said quietly. Clearing her throat, she blinked back the sudden emotion sheening her eyes. "Anyway, I gotta pick up some things."
After that day, Mack started stopping by the butcher shop more frequently. Most of the time, she was picking up something for her family, but there were times when she would throw something random onto the counter, almost like an afterthought. Almost like the purchase hadn't been her main reason for coming in.
Whenever she had particularly large orders, Tiger would volunteer to help her carry them home. That was one of the perks of being a delivery boy. One day, as he was walking with her towards her apartment building, he realized she was staring at him.
"What is it?" he asked, looking down at her.
"Nothin'," Mack said quickly, shaking her head. "It's just…yer different. Since that night, I mean," she added slowly, biting down on her lower lip again. "Ya just seem…lighter. Less angry."
"I'm tryin' ta be," Tiger said softly, adjusting his hold on her packages. "I'm ashamed of what I did, Mack. Ya were right when ya called me an animal. It's what I was."
Mack closed her eyes at that, evidently reliving that night the way he so often did. "Tiger, I—"
"I know ya can't forgive me, Mack. I don't expect ya to. I don't deserve that," Tiger told her, coming to a stop with her outside her building.
"I did think I'd never be able ta forgive ya, Tiger," she said softly. "I thought…I thought yous would never change. But…I was wrong." She looked up into his eyes, warmth glowing in her own. "I do forgive ya, Tiger. I do."
Neither of them paid any mind as Tiger dropped her packages to the ground, wrapping her in his arms as they held one another tightly.
A-Rab had been angry for as long as he could remember. Maybe it was something he had picked up from his old man, who'd angrily beat on him and his ma until he'd died the miserable death he deserved. Maybe it was something he'd picked up in his childhood, living in a city that seemed to be overrun with miserable people always looking for ways to take their misery out on each other. Whatever it was that had made him the way that he was, A-Rab knew he was an angry guy. And that anger had finally reached its boiling point the night of the rumble.
It was only in the wake of it all, sitting on the fire escape outside Dot's bedroom window, that he finally allowed himself to feel something besides anger. When he did, it was like the floodgates opened and he realized why he'd clung to anger for so long. Anger was easier to swallow than grief, than shame, than pain and sadness and regret. He'd felt all those things and more as he'd sat on that fire escape, weeping for all that had been lost that night.
Dot had been the brightest spot in his life. They may have bickered like cats and dogs, but he loved her. She was the one person who centered him, the one person who could help him see through his constant haze of fury. But she couldn't stop him that night. And his anger, his uncontrollable, blind rage, had destroyed them. He had lost her that night, just as surely as he'd lost Riff and Tony, and it was all his fault.
Anger, A-Rab came to realize, was exhausting. It was too heavy a burden to bear. He just wished it hadn't taken such awful tragedy for him to finally realize that. In the wake of that night, just like his friends, A-Rab began throwing himself into the work of changing who he had been, trying to be someone better, someone Dot could be proud of again.
His mother's brother owned a club in the city, so it wasn't too difficult to convince him to give him a job there. He even managed to get some work for some of the other Jets. Watching his uncle work, A-Rab found that running a business could actually be pretty interesting.
He picked up the phone to call Dot so many times, but always ended up hanging up before he could go through with it. She hated him now and he didn't think he was strong enough to withstand her rejection again.
With so many of the guys getting back with their girls, however, the chances of running into her kept increasing. It finally happened one day when A-Rab was visiting Diesel at the auto repair shop. Mamie dropped by to say hello, and Dot just so happened to be with her.
"Oh! A-Rab!" Mamie exclaimed after kissing Diesel hello. "I didn't know ya were gonna be here," she said, surreptitiously shooting Dot an apologetic look.
Dot crossed her arms and refused to even look at him. "I'll wait for ya outside, Mamie," she said coldly, turning to walk out of the shop.
"Dot," A-Rab called out, hurrying after her despite Mamie and Diesel's concerned looks.
"Leave me alone, Gabriel," Dot told him sternly. She only ever called him by his given name when she was mad at him.
"I'm not tryin' ta upset ya, Dot," A-Rab said honestly, raising his hands and taking a few steps back from her. "I just…I just miss ya, is all. I just wanted ta see how ya were doin'."
"I'm doin' fine," Dot snapped, crossing her arms over her chest again. She softened only the tiniest bit at his deflated expression. "I'm fine," she said again, lowering her arms. "I heard ya been workin' for yer uncle."
"Yeah," A-Rab nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "I been learnin' a lot o' things from him. Thinkin' maybe I'd like ta run a place o' my own one day."
The corners of Dot's mouth turned up in the ghost of a smile. "I could see that."
Just as A-Rab opened his mouth to say more, Mamie suddenly reappeared and the two of them were off. He brightened just the tiniest bit, however, when Dot glanced back over her shoulder as she was walking away.
"Mamie says she thinks Dot kinda wants ta see ya again," Diesel told him the next time they saw each other. "I mean, she didn't say it outright—ya know Dot—but Mamie could tell from the things she was sayin'."
After that, Mamie made it her personal mission, with Diesel's coerced assistance, to get the two of them together as often as possible. They went for walks and sometimes talked on the phone. Dot even visited him at work a couple times when Natalie was going to see Big Deal.
They were sitting outside on her fire escape one evening when she suddenly turned to look at him. "I'm real proud o' ya, A-Rab." She'd started calling him A-Rab again instead of Gabriel. "Really. Ya've been workin' hard."
"That means a lot, Dot. Really," A-Rab replied, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "I been wantin' ta make ya proud o' me."
Leaning forward, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Before he could stop himself, he turned his head and their lips met in a brief kiss.
"I'm sorry, Dot. I shouldn't o' done that," he apologized quickly, worried he had just ruined all the progress he'd made with her.
Dot was quiet for a moment before lightly touching his cheek and pressing another soft kiss to his lips. "I forgive ya, A-Rab," she said gently, slipping her hand inside his. He knew she didn't just mean for the kiss. "I forgive ya."
Action was a wreck after losing Rhonda. Diesel and Ice had to stay with him for a couple days after Rhonda moved out of their apartment, that's how inconsolable he was. He took to sleeping on the couch, refusing to sleep in their bed without her.
In one night, he felt like he had lost everything. Losing Rhonda caused him the most regret, however, because that was the one thing that had been completely his fault. He'd behaved like a monster and he'd had to face the consequences of that. That night Rhonda left, when she'd compared him to her abusive father, he had wanted to die. He had always done whatever he had to do to protect her, but in that moment, he had been just another abusive piece of garbage in her eyes. Rhonda was the one who brought out the best in him and he was lost without her.
Ice was the one who pulled Action along with him when he started looking for jobs around the neighborhood. It was thanks to him that Action started finding some work, odd jobs at the docks and some local bars, and even, on occasion, a construction site. But when he went home at night, his apartment always felt cold and empty without her.
She was staying with Mamie. That's what she had told him the night she left. Mamie lived in the same apartment building as Grazi, so he knew she was surrounded by the girls. Once Diesel and Mamie got back together, Action was always begging Diesel for any information he could provide, wanting to know if he had seen her.
"I saw her," Diesel nodded one day, running a hand through his hair. He didn't know how to tell Action the truth of it. "She looked…sad. Mamie said she spends a lot o' time with Grazi. I think she's just havin' a hard time."
The thought of Rhonda sad, and all because of him and his selfishness, broke Action's heart.
"I'm goin' over ta Mamie's for dinner tonight," Diesel told him a few days later. "She said ta invite ya. Rhonda said it was okay."
His heart nearly burst out of his chest when he saw her that night. It was the first time he'd laid eyes on her in over two months. She'd barely been able to meet his gaze as the four of them sat down together. Just moments later, when he asked her to pass the butter, she burst into tears and fled from the table. Action wanted to die. Mumbling a quick "thank you" to Mamie, he hurried from her apartment.
Rhonda was the one to call him at home a few days later. "It was just so hard seein' ya," she explained as she apologized for her behavior.
"Ya don't have ta say sorry, Rhonda," Action assured her, holding the phone tightly as if he was holding her. "I know what I did was wrong. I know how bad I hurt ya."
There was silence on the other end for a few moments and he wondered if she was going to hang up. "I miss ya," she whispered, her voice clogged with unshed tears. "I want ta forgive ya. I just…I just need time."
Time was what he gave her as he continued working, giving Rhonda her space. He desperately longed for her forgiveness, but he knew it could only come if and when she was ready to give it.
A few weeks later, he was startled by the sound of a knock on his apartment door. His heart did a somersault in his chest when he opened it and found Rhonda standing on the other side.
"I forgive ya," she told him, tears streaming down her face as she looked up at him. "I forgive ya," she said again, collapsing into his arms as he opened them wide to her.
Action lifted her up into his arms, weeping into her neck as he held her close, there in the threshold of the apartment.
"I wanna come home," she whispered, resting her forehead against his as he carried her inside.
The weeks following the rumble were the hardest of Baby John's young life. Riff had been his hero. The older boy had looked out for him, protected him, given him a home in the Jets. And how had Baby John repaid him? He'd thrown him the knife that had ended his life. He would never, ever forgive himself for that.
That wasn't all he couldn't forgive himself for. Looking back on it, he had no explanation for his actions in Doc's that night. He'd felt scared at the sight of Bernardo's girl, worried that she was there to discover Tony's location and pass it on to the Sharks. He'd felt anxious when the Jets had started harassing her, prowling around her like the wild beasts they'd felt like that night. He'd been terrified when even Grazi began begging them to stop and the Jets had just ignored her, pushing her to the side like they didn't even hear her. Then they'd thrown her out, Grazi and Velma and…
Tessie. His sweet Tessie. She'd been there with him that night, there to offer him the comfort he so desperately sought in the wake of Riff's death. She'd been scared to be on the streets that night, but she'd come with him anyway. And instead of standing up for her, defending her, protecting her, he'd let her get thrown out onto the street. He'd joined in with the Jets as they'd torn at Anita's clothes, pinned her to the floor…God only knew what else they would have done if Valentina hadn't arrived. Deep down, he knew, but he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to believe that any of them were truly capable of that.
Tessie had seen it all. She'd witnessed their savage brutality as she and Grazi and Velma had beat their fists against the window, begging them to stop. Begging them not to lose their souls on top of everything else they had lost.
The other girls may have forgiven the Jets, but they hadn't been there. They hadn't seen it with their own eyes like Tessie had. How could he ever expect her to forgive him after that?
He missed her so much. She hadn't just been his girlfriend, she'd been his best friend. Even before he had the Jets, he'd had Tessie. She'd been his confidante, his conscience, the person he trusted the most in the whole world. And he'd thrown it all away. He would never forgive himself for that.
Despite the fact that they lived across the hall from one another, Baby John had hardly seen her since that night. He had a feeling she wanted it that way. To be honest, he wasn't sure what he would do if he saw her anyway. There was nothing he could say that would fix what had happened, nothing he could do that would make her love him again. Seeing her would only bring him even more pain and regret.
He was too young to work with most of the other Jets, so instead he went back to his old job as a paperboy. It was the job he'd had when the Jets had first rescued him. Sometimes he helped Little Moly make deliveries as well. Every day, he went through the motions, knowing that a part of his heart was missing and he'd never be able to get it back.
He nearly had a heart attack the day, almost three months after the rumble, that he walked into his apartment after a long day to find Tessie sitting at his kitchen table. She looked just as uncomfortable.
"John, there you are!" his mother exclaimed, setting a pot roast on the table. "I invited Tessie over for dinner. It's been so long since I've seen her," she told him, oblivious to all that had gone on since the rumble. Baby John kept her in the dark about most things related to the Jets. It would only break her heart and he would never do that to his ma.
Dinner that night was the most uncomfortable affair of his life. His mother and Tessie were the only ones who talked. Baby John just stared at his plate the whole time, too ashamed to even attempt to look Tessie's way. After facing a torturous round of dessert, his mother forced him to "walk Tessie home," even though she lived right across the hall.
"I'm sorry about that," Baby John told her once they were outside his apartment. "Ya didn't have ta say yes."
"I like yer ma," Tessie countered, twisting her hands in the folds of her skirt. "She's never done anythin' ta hurt me," she added pointedly.
Baby John winced and opened his mouth to say something, but Tessie cut him off.
"I know all the other girls have been takin' the boys back an' forgivin' 'em, but I can't. I just…I can't," she told him, a sad expression in her eyes as she looked up at him.
"I understand, Tessie," Baby John replied sadly, his heart breaking as she turned and disappeared inside her apartment.
Things might have stayed that way between them if it hadn't been for the Emeralds. Though the Irish gang wasn't as strong as it had been since the Jets had defeated them in a rumble, they'd been taking advantage of the Jets' absence from the streets and regrouping. And Baby John had always been their favorite target. Just like that day when the Jets had first come into his life, the Emeralds jumped him while he was delivering papers. Except Riff wasn't there to save him this time. Instead, he managed to stumble his way over to the butcher shop where Tiger was working. Panicked, Tiger had made a few phone calls and soon the Jets had Baby John stretched out on the couch in Action and Rhonda's apartment.
It was Mamie who hurried to get Tessie, knowing she should be there.
"Oh, Johnny! Johnny!" Tessie sobbed, falling down at his side when she arrived.
"Tessie?" Baby John croaked, gazing at her through his swollen eyes and reaching out a bruised hand towards her.
"I'm here," Tessie assured him, holding his hand between both of her own and pressing it to her cheek.
The other Jets remained on the periphery as Tessie nursed Baby John back to some semblance of health, with help from some of the other girls. Once he was able to sit up, the rest of them made themselves scarce so as not to be in the way.
"Oh, Johnny, I was so worried about ya," Tessie confessed, holding an ice pack to his cheek. "When Mamie told me what happened, I just…I just had ta see ya. I didn't care about anythin' else."
"I'm glad yer here, Tessie," Baby John said quietly, brushing his fingers against her hand. "I've missed ya so much."
"Oh, Johnny, I've missed ya, too," Tessie whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. "Today, when I thought…well, when I saw ya layin' here…I thought about how I would feel if anythin' happened ta ya without me forgivin' ya. I don't want that ta happen," she told him, squeezing his hand.
"Tessie, ya don't have ta—"
"I want to. I forgive ya, Johnny," Tessie told him, pressing a tender kiss to his bruised cheek. "I forgive ya."
Mouthpiece's greatest fear came true in the wake of the rumble. He'd always been afraid that he wasn't good enough for Velma and the truth was, he wasn't. Deep down, he had always known that, but now she knew it, too. She'd seen with her own eyes what a worthless piece of nothing he was. He had never deserved her and now he had lost her for good.
That whole night felt like some kind of terrible nightmare that he couldn't wake himself up from. He'd been lost in a haze that night in Doc's, too blind to even register Velma, his beautiful Velma, being pushed out onto the street, crying and begging him to stop all the while. It had only registered once it was too late. He could still taste the tears, mingled with the blood that dripped down his face as Valentina called them rapists. That's what they'd become. That's what he'd become. How could Velma ever love him again after that?
After Riff's funeral, Mouthpiece began working with Balkan, Snowboy, and some of the other Jets on construction sites. For all his lack of a work ethic for most of his life, he actually ended up having quite the knack for it. He was good with his hands and quick to learn. He worked himself to the bone every day so that by the time he got home, he could fall into an exhausted, dreamless stupor. That way, he didn't have to think about the rumble, about what he had done, or about Velma.
He saw her around the neighborhood every now and then. It was hard not to, especially when all the other Jets started getting back together with their girls. He was happy for his friends, though it pained him that Velma would never be his again. The way she looked at him when she saw him on the street made that clear. From what he heard from the others, Velma spent most of her days with Grazi, who barely left her apartment. He felt even more guilt when he thought of Grazi suffering with none of them there to support her. Yet another way they had let Riff down.
He ran into her once on his way home from work with Balkan and Snowboy. They had just recently reconciled with Tat and Gussie and were stopping by the bakery to check on them. Mouthpiece had figured it couldn't hurt to tag along. When they stepped inside, they found Velma at the counter, furtively whispering with the twins, who had handed her a plain loaf of bread. Mouthpiece had paled immediately.
Turning, all the color had drained from Velma's face as well. The twins had stood there awkwardly, as had Balkan and Snowboy, who slowly inched their way over to their girlfriends.
"Thanks, girls. I'll talk ta yous soon," Velma told the twins, clutching the loaf of bread tightly to her chest as she went to push past Mouthpiece. He was too dumbfounded at the sight of her to move out of the way. "'Scuse me," she said coldly, avoiding his gaze.
At an unusual loss for words, Mouthpiece stepped aside, pushing the door open for her. "Ya look good, Velma," he finally managed to get out, looking at her with remorse brimming in his eyes.
She glanced up at him for a brief moment. "I need ta go. Grazi's waitin' for me," she said flatly, turning and hurrying away.
"Bye," Mouthpiece said quietly, too quietly for her to hear.
Any time he saw her after that, it was much the same. She could never really look at him, was always hurrying away. He knew he deserved it. He had hurt her beyond words, beyond forgiveness. He'd always thought he would treasure her for the rest of his days, but his anger and his hatred had caused him to let go of the greatest gift he'd ever had.
The cost of hate, he'd realized too late, was high indeed.
It was over three months after the rumble when he came home from work to find her sitting on the bench outside his apartment building. "Velma?" he asked in surprise, shocked to see her sitting there. It seemed like she had been waiting for him.
"Hi," she greeted him, rising from the bench and shifting from foot to foot. She seemed nervous, or uncomfortable. "Could ya…could ya maybe sit for a minute?" she asked, indicating the bench she'd just been sitting on.
Nodding, Mouthpiece sat down beside her as she took a seat again. They sat in silence for several moments as Velma seemed to be trying to work out in her mind what she wanted to say. He would have sat there forever, just to be near her.
When Velma finally did open her mouth, what came out of it was the last thing he had been expecting. She started telling him about how Grazi had talked to some priest at the Church of the Blessed Sacrament, how he'd told her that Riff wasn't beyond God's mercy, how Grazi's prayers mattered, how forgiveness was possible even in the most impossible situations. Mouthpiece was silent as she spoke, his pulse hammering erratically in his veins as he tried to determine her purpose in telling him all this.
"An' I guess what I'm tryin' ta say is…ya hurt me, Mouthpiece. Ya hurt me real bad. Ya broke my heart that night," Velma told him, tears coursing down her cheeks at that point.
"I know I did, Vel," Mouthpiece replied honestly, the nickname slipping out as he hung his head in shame.
"After everythin' that happened that night, after everythin' I saw, I didn't think I'd ever be able ta forgive ya," she told him seriously. "I thought it was really over for us. But Grazi hasn't been able ta stop talkin' about this an' it got me thinkin' about it, too. About forgiveness an' all that. Grazi thinks that maybe it's not so impossible. An' if she can think that, with all she's been through, I figured I could try, too."
"Velma, what are ya sayin'?" Mouthpiece asked slowly, not daring to get his hopes up too high.
"I'm sayin'…I'm sayin' that after thinkin' about it for a long time, really thinkin' and reflectin' about it…I forgive ya, Mouthpiece. I really do," Velma said softly, slowly reaching out and taking his hand in hers.
"Velma…Vel," Mouthpiece choked out, a sob bubbling up in his throat as he took her into his arms, her arms circling around him as he cried into her shoulder.
He wasn't sure how long they sat on that bench, his face buried in her neck as her fingers lightly ran through his hair, but it was dark by the time they finally rose, hands clasped together tightly.
"Can I walk ya home?" he asked, gazing down at her beautiful face.
"I'd like that," she told him with a smile.
They all stood outside the familiar storefront, frozen in place. None of them had been there since that night. None of them had dared. Even standing outside now filled most of them with a sense of dread, memories of what had taken place there still fresh in their minds even months later.
"If yous can't face her here, ya can't face her anywhere," Karen said, resting her hand on Ice's shoulder as she gazed around at all the other Jets. Their girls were by their sides, holding onto them the way Karen was doing.
"She's right," Velma nodded, squeezing Mouthpiece's arm gently.
"She agreed ta see yous," Mamie said encouragingly, gazing up at Diesel. "She's finally willin' ta talk."
The boys had been shocked when their girlfriends told them that Graziella was finally ready to see them again, ready to talk to them. She hadn't wanted anything to do with them after the rumble, not after what had taken place at this very spot. Even when their own girlfriends had forgiven them, they held out little hope that Grazi would do so. They knew she was offering them a great chance here and they didn't want to waste it.
Taking a deep breath, Ice, who the others had elected to speak for them, pushed open the door of Doc's and led everyone inside. A hush fell over the group as they saw Grazi, sitting alone at the booth she'd been sitting in that night. She looked pale and even skinnier than usual. From what the girls had told them, she hadn't been sleeping well and was barely eating. Riff would be devastated to see his Grazi, who he had loved so much, grieving this way.
"Hey," Grazi said slowly, all of them watching her carefully.
"Hey, Grazi," Ice said, emotion clogging his throat as he met her gaze. His last words, spoken to her in this exact spot, had been so callous and cold. "It's good ta see ya."
"It's good ta see yous, too," Grazi said, her gaze shifting so that it came to rest on each one of the Jets in turn. Though it was hard for some of them, they all met her eyes as she looked at them.
"Grazi, we—we just wanted ta tell ya how sorry we all are," Ice began, the other Jets nodding and murmuring their agreement. "For everythin'. For what we did that night. For how we treated ya. For the fact that we ain't been there for ya since." He coughed, getting uncharacteristically choked up. Karen reached out and rested a comforting hand on his arm. "We let Riff down that night. An' we've been lettin' him down ever since by not lookin' out for ya."
"We're sorry, Grazi," Diesel said, the same sentiment echoed by several other Jets.
Rising slowly, Graziella began walking around the room, stopping in front of each one of them in turn. She met her girlfriends' eyes as she passed them, knowing how much her forgiveness meant to each of them as well. She didn't fault her friends for forgiving the boys, for taking them back. God knew she would have forgiven Riff anything if she could just have him back again.
She could see the shame, the remorse, the contrition in each of the boy's eyes. She knew from the girls what they had been doing in the months since the rumble, how they had been trying to change, trying to be better. And Father O'Rourke's words had not stopped replaying in her head since that morning at the Church of the Blessed Sacrament.
"It took me a while ta feel ready ta see yous," Graziella finally said, standing in the center of Doc's. "I was so angry for such a long time. But I don't want ta be angry anymore. I don't want ta carry bitterness an' regret in my heart anymore."
The boys were all watching her carefully, unsure of what she might do or say next. Grazi was all they had left of Riff. It was her absolution they needed above all else to feel at peace, to feel right with Riff.
"I'm pregnant," Grazi said suddenly, prompting shocked gasps and wide eyes from the Jets. Their heads spun around to look questioningly at their girlfriends, who all shrugged without apology.
"It wasn't our place ta tell yous," Rhonda told them all firmly.
Dumbstruck, they all turned to stare back at Grazi, some of them eyeing her belly, which had yet to pop. If Graziella was pregnant, then that meant that, even though he was gone, there was a piece of Riff that would still be with them. And that meant more to them than words could say.
"I don't want my baby…I don't want Riff's baby…born into a world with another ounce o' hate in it," Graziella told them, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. "An'…an' I don't want ta live the rest o' my life without yous in it," she admitted, the tears starting to roll down her cheeks.
Everyone was crying now as the Jets and their girls circled Graziella, reaching out gently to embrace her.
"So I forgive yous. I forgive yous," Graziella exclaimed, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "This baby," she added, resting a hand on her stomach. "He ain't gonna have his daddy, so he'll need some really great uncles."
"You got it, Grazi," Diesel sobbed, Mamie dabbing at his eyes with a tissue she'd pulled from her purse.
"We'll be here for ya, Grazi. Anythin' ya need," Ice promised, reaching out to squeeze her hand lightly. Glancing around the room, he knew he spoke for all of the Jets when he added softly, "Thank you, Grazi."
As they all walked out of Doc's, arms around one another and bursts of laughter breaking forth through the tears, Graziella realized that Father O'Rourke had been right. Forgiveness was possible even when it seemed the most impossible. Healing was possible, too.
If there was anything they had learned from that terrible night, it was that life was too short and the cost of hate was too great a price to pay. Somehow, despite everything, they had forged a path to forgiveness. And though things would never be the same, would never be as they had once been, maybe somehow they would be alright.
Someday, they were going to be alright.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this little series! I'd love to know in the comments which couple(s) were your favorite! I write a lot more about them on my Tumblr (riffheartsgraziella), so feel free to check it out if you're interested!
