For the duration of the drive out to Loganville Nicky has been passed out asleep in the backseat. Despite his earlier restlessness, the whole travel ordeal has worn him out.
Jesse hasn't said a word since she clammed up on the plane. Sonny is starting to get worried about her.
They pull up onto the road of a small, private cemetery. The crunching of the gravel beneath the wheels is somehow comforting, soothing, familiar. They've come every year since she died. This year Mother's Day is on May 12th again, the exact same date that God took her away.
"Hey little buddy," Sonny calls out to his son in the backseat.
Nicky wakes up slowly, wipes his eyes, and yawns. "Where are we Daddy?"
"We're here to visit your mama."
Nicky looks perplexed. Sonny surmises that he was probably too young the last time they had been out here and has no memory of it. But then he remembers what his son had said. I've seen you cry. In Georgia. Is it still okay to cry in Georgia? So Nicky does remember something of their last visit here.
"There's no one to visit. Mama's not here," Jesse says vacantly and shoving open the car door she gets out, stepping into the balmy heat. She slowly walks the path to her mother's headstone. It's part of the ritual they go through every year.
"Jesse, wait up," Sonny calls. "Come on, Nicky. Time to get out of the car."
He does and follows his father down the path. Except unlike his father and sister he is humming happily and running in circles as he makes his way along it. They catch up with Jesse and then walk down together. They are silent except for Nicky's humming.
When they reach the grave Sonny's breath catches in his throat. This is the only time of the year he lets himself think of her – really think of her. The rest of the year he has to stay strong for the kids. He crosses himself and then settles on the grass in front of her headstone while Jesse silently sits down beside him. Nicky runs up to the headstone, putting his hands all over it, tracing the letters.
"Oooh, what's this daddy?"
"Nicky, don't touch that." Sonny snaps. He follows with a stern, "Come over here".
Nicky's forehead creases as he looks back at his daddy. He doesn't understand why he's in trouble now. He only knows that he is. He waddles with his head down towards his father and sits next to him, on the opposite side of Jesse.
Once his children are on either side of him, his wife is resting in the ground beneath him, Sonny can finally let go. He cries quietly as he lets himself remember her, lets himself miss her. Remembering the joy he felt as they were falling in love, caring for Jesse together. How beautiful she was, how sparkling her blue eyes were when she would tell him that she loved him. Stroking her soft golden hair as she lay on his chest and they watched TV after long days at work. How their toes would find their way to each other in the middle of the night and they'd wake up with their feet tangled together.
She had been comfortable enough to talk to him about her fears. He had been the only one she trusted to get that close to her heart. He was careful with it. No one else had been. She had been damaged when they met but determined to live life on her own terms. Not as a woman needing to be rescued, not as a victim, not as someone needing guidance, but as a tough, strong woman who could whether almost anything and survive.
But she didn't survive giving birth to their son. He sighed deeply as the tears stopped. It was not the first time he felt it. The resentment towards his own son. He crossed himself. The guilt he felt over this was overwhelming. After returning from Georgia he would always go to mass and the confessional more often, praying until he could put these feelings behind him - at least for a while.
He looks down at his son who is actually sitting quietly for once, picking at some blades of grass, looking content. Sonny becomes angry just watching him. Why did he have to lose his wife to bring this child into the world? What was the point? Supplanting one for the other. In Georgia he felt it – the hatred for his own son, sitting innocently by his side. And he hated himself for feeling that way.
Unable to look at his son a second longer, he turns to Jesse. She sits beside him, not a single tear shed.
They had always given such comfort to each other over the years, here in Georgia. Both grieving for Amanda together, coming out on the other side of it, ready to go home and put it behind them. At least for another year.
Something is different this time.
"Hey, Jess . . . "
She doesn't look at him, but instead looks down at her hands. "He needs a mama, you know."
"I can't . . . " Sonny starts but can't finish.
"I was his age when Mama went to heaven. Do you remember?"
"Yes, sweetheart."
"He needs a mama. One he can remember." Jesse looks over at her brother and Sonny can now see the anger rise in the flush of her face. "I bet he doesn't even know what he's done. And he doesn't care."
He is glad she'sno longer numb, but this . . .
"He took her away from us, daddy!" Jesse practically screams. "He killed her."
No . . . Sonny started to say but couldn't. He felt the same way. Deep down he knew he did. He hung his head. And truth be told, he also blamed himself. As Amanda's mother had said he was responsible for her death. As much as Nicky was. He knew giving birth to Jesse had been difficult for her. If he hadn't pushed to have his own kid . . .
He starts to cry again. Deep soul wrenching tears. Jesse just looks away, her anger returning to coldness. She has no sympathy to spare for her father.
Nicky crawls onto his lap and hugs his father as he cries. "It's okay, daddy. Everything's going to be alright."
His innocent son.
His little boy has no idea how much sorrow his very existence had caused. No matter how much anger they had towards him for living or how much blame he and Jesse wanted to place on him, he was innocent. In his mind he had always known this but his heart had never accepted it. Until now – until his son had reached out to comfort him. Carisi hugs Nicky tightly and for the first time finally allows himself to fully love his son. As he holds his little boy remembers Amanda . . .
She had been calling out for him, their little Dominick, as she was being wheeled into the operating room to die. She had loved her son even though she never even had the chance to hold him. But Sonny had been lucky enough to – all these years. Reminding himself of what his wife had missed out on, he held his son close to his chest, for her, for himself. "Thanks little buddy."
Disgusted, Jesse stands up and walks away.
"Jess!" he calls after her. "Jess!"
She only turns around to give him a brief withering look and keeps walking.
Sonny disentangles himself from his son and tells him to stay put while he stands up and goes after her. She has stopped along the fence at the edge of the cemetery, looking out onto the road where nary a car even passed by. He comes up beside her and just stands there. Even though his every inclination is to try to force her to talk – it had always worked on her mother eventually – he knows that is not what she needs right now. He had needed silence from time to time, especially while travelling here, and she had always respected his need for it - she had always given him space to grieve. It is what he needs to do for her now. Except he wants to stand by her side along this fence as a physical reminder that she is not alone in this process. And that she is loved.
They stand there in silence so long looking out at the barren road that Nicky has grown restless again. Sonny looks back at him. He is making airplane noises with his arms outstretched, diving in between the headstones, barely missing them. He smiles a bit. His son is amusing himself for the time being, not needing any kind of intervention. He can stay with Jesse.
"I hate him, you know," Jesse says when she finally speaks.
"For a while, I did too."
Jesse turns to him, her face in total shock.
"What?"
"Yes," Sonny says quietly, "He took your mother from us. With his very life."
There is silence between them, Jesse still facing her father, him looking away now.
He says quietly, "You are not alone in feeling that way."
She starts crying finally. "I . . . I . . . Oh, daddy, I've been feeling so bad for feeling this way. So evil - rotten. Like God needs to punish me."
"Have you ever talked to the priest about this? In confession or anything?"
"No." She hangs her head and sobs.
"Jesse, baby," he crouches down in front of her and tips her head up. "You might want to try that when we get back. It might make you feel better, okay?"
Nicky has crept up on them silently. They don't even notice his presence until he wraps his arms around Jesse's legs. "Poor sissy. I'm sorry you're crying. I'm sorry."
She looks down at him, stricken, but his adoring gaze never falters. "I love you sissy. I'm sorry you feel bad. "
"He's sorry," Sonny says softly, touching his daughter's shoulder. She cries even harder as she picks up her little brother and holds him to her.
"I know you are little Dominick, I know you are." She holds him fiercely.
And then Sonny envelops both of his children in his embrace so that they can all heal together. As a family.
It is the last day anyone ever calls his son Nicky.
FIN