The childhood shows the man as morning shows the day. - John Milton
The three Conlon men sit in silence around the weathered dining room table. The tears have stopped flowing but there's a palpable feeling of healing in the air. Tommy's heart feels lighter than it ever has. There is nothing more for him to be angry about, no emotional Sword of Damocles hanging above his head now. Pops is propped up on his elbows on the table top, staring blankly at the now cold coffee in his mug. No one seems to have the energy to move or even speak. Brendan's cell rings and breaks the silence. He jumps out of his chair to pull the phone out of his phone out of his hip pocket.
Looking at the caller ID he says to Tommy and Paddy, "It's Tess, I'll be back in a minute."
After Brendan leaves the room, Paddy clears his throat and taps his fingers on the table to get Tommy's attention.
"You need anything? " Tommy asks as he takes in his father's face; his color is ashen and the circles around his eyes have darkened more since he and Brendan arrived. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Actually there is, Penny's stuff is still downstairs. I guess it needs to be packed up and I can't make it up and down the stairs anymore. I guess it's obvious that I'm not in too good a shape." Paddy rubs his hand across his forehead, Tommy is surprised to recognize it's the same habit he has when he's overwhelmed or tired.
"I'll take care of it, Pops. Don't worry yourself about it. Do you… you need to lay down for a while?"
"Yeah kid, I think I do. I don't have much energy these days." Paddy tries to stand but can't seem to make the effort easily on his own. Tommy jumps out of his seat and hurries around the table to grab his father underneath his arms and help him to his feet. What he feels mortifies him; the man is skin and bones underneath the layers of shirts and a robe.
Walking his father down the short hallway to the bedroom he reaches around him and opens the door. Steeping inside is like traveling back in time. Nothing in this room has changed, absolutely not a thing. The same flowered wallpaper hangs on the walls, albeit it's coming off in places and is extremely faded. The same color coordinated comforter covers the bed, the same yellow curtains hang in dusty tatters on the windows. Helping Pops onto the bed, Tommy pulls down the covers and props the old man up on pillows after he gets him laid down. Looking around the room he notices that Pops still has the framed photo of the day he married Ma. It's the only thing that isn't covered in an inch of dust on the dresser.
"Tommy, would you mind handing me that bottle of pills?" Paddy asks, pointing to the chest of drawers next to the closet. Walking over to retrieve it, Tommy see's that there are still clothes that belonged to his mother hanging in there. He closes his eyes for a brief moment to stop his head from spinning. Looking down at the bottle he reads the name of the medicine it contains; Morphine.
"I didn't even know they made this shit in a pill form."
"Yeah me neither. I dissolve it under my tongue and then I'm out for a few hours at least. The pain is pretty constant."
"So when you startin' your chemo or whatever?" Tommy reaches the bedside and hands the bottle to his father.
"Ahhh, I've decided not to go that route."
"What do you mean?" Tommy feels his heart sinking, he doesn't like the sound of this. He just got his father back and now he's going to have to face losing him? Fuck that shit…
"Tommy, it's everywhere. It started in my stomach of all places and now its spread. Chemo only improves my chances slightly, as a matter of fact, the doctors advised me that the chemo might kill me because of all the damage I did to my body by drinking."
"Well there's gotta be something else right? I see those commercials all the time about curing cancer without chemo, what's that place called… Cancer centers or…" Tommy's pacing now, stuttering as he tries to make sense of how unfair all of this is.
"Tommy, look at me." The tone of his father's words stops him in his tracks. There is a tenderness contained in those four words that he can't recall ever having heard in his Pops voice. Paddy motions for Tommy to sit on the edge of the bed and he complies. Tears sting his eyes, threatening to overflow the dam of his lower lids again. He sniffles and looks at the ceiling until he feels sure he can keep from crying again. "I'm an old man, I've lived my life and while I have regrets about the things I should have done or done differently, I'm not afraid to go. Not now, anyways."
Tommy raises an eyebrow as he looks at his father, not really knowing what he means by the last sentence.
"I think I've held on as long as I have because I wanted the chance to say what I did today. This isn't something that happened recently you know, I knew I had it when we were at Sparta," Paddy pushes back into the pillows but never takes his eyes off of Tommy, "You know, you look like your Ma when you do that, you know, scrunch your forehead and raise that eyebrow."
Tommy feels the blood drain from his face, his stomach ties itself into a hard knot. He knows Paddy is trying to lighten the mood by comparing him to his mother but all he can think about is when he threw a cup of casino tokens in Paddy's face and told him to get the fuck away from him.
"Whatever you're thinking about just stop it right now; the things in the past need to stay there Tommy. You had every reason and right to be that mad at me and hate me. Don't go looking for reasons to be upset, let all that shit go. I'm not dead yet and I want to enjoy the time I have left getting to know you again, getting to know Brendan and Tess and my granddaughters too. I won't ask for much, I don't have any right to expect anything."
"I never hated you Pops. It would have been so much easier if I did," Tommy whispers hoarsely. It's more than he can handle and he finds himself crumpling onto Paddy's side, pushing his face into the worn comforter that he remembers watching his mother hang on the clothesline once a week. There is no sound to his angst, just the wracking, heaving of his chest as he lets go of hurt that was buried soul deep. He never hated Paddy, as hard as he tried to he never achieved it. Instead he suppressed all the self-loathing and doubt about himself and covered it over with anger. He refused to concede that deep down he'd always wondered what was so wrong with him that his own father hated him. He couldn't admit, until now, that in the depths of his psyche he'd felt that something was so inherently wrong with him that he'd been the reason Paddy drank and beat his family. All these years he'd really believed that it was all his fault.
Paddy puts his arms around Tommy's head and soothes him as best he can. Tommy listens to Paddy's labored breaths and it breaks his heart. There's nothing that can be done for his father and now he's doomed to watch cancer take him too, just like his Ma.
Tommy sits up and wipes his face; he's embarrassed by the emotion and the fact that he's cried so many times today. Grabbing the pill bottle from where it lies on the bed he opens it and hands a tablet to his father. Paddy nods his thanks and uses a trembling hand to shove it underneath his tongue. Leaning back into the pillows he closes his eyes. "Thank you god for my boys, thank you god for another chance." he whispers.
Tommy hears shuffling at the bedroom door and turns to see Brendan standing there. His brother motions for him to come outside the room.
"Pops, I'll be here, if you need anything just yell." Tommy says close to Paddy's ear, not sure if he's fully awake any more.
Paddy nods his head with his eyes still closed. The medicine has slowed his breathing already and he seems on the edge of sleep. Tommy stands and heads out of the room, following Brendan into the living room.
"Tess is coming with the kids and Heather, they're bringing some pizza and Philly's. I don't know about you but I could eat a shoe right now."
"Brendan, I think you should know that Pops…"
"I heard. I didn't mean to eavesdrop but I couldn't help it."
The two men stare at their feet and suddenly Brendan pulls Tommy into a tight embrace. They don't say anything, there are no tears; the two of them just support each other there in the living room of their childhood home. After a few minutes Tommy lets go and pats Brendan on the back.
"So Pops also told me that Penny's stuff is still in the basement, wants me to take care of it. Could you lend me a hand before the girls get here?"
"Anything you need Tommy. Anything."
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The basement was pretty much the same as Tommy remembers it. It's dark, dank, and musty; not a very welcoming place. It was never somewhere he spent much time as a kid. He actually never came down here back then unless he was bringing up laundry for his mother or retrieving something for her or his father. Tommy looks to the left of the stairs and sees the door to the spare room. It had been a catch-all kind of place back in the day, it had held old clothes meant for Goodwill, trophies that overflowed from the shelves in the living room and Tommy's bedroom, sporting equipment and other miscellaneous things had also been stored in here. Tommy guesses that now it houses all that Penny Denton had owned in this world. What the fuck is he going to do with it; why is he so scared to open that door?
Looking back at Brendan to make sure he was still there behind him, he grasps the knob and turns it, opening the door into the room and flipping on the light. Tommy isn't sure what he was expecting but it isn't what he sees before him.
There is a twin bed on the far wall, neatly made with what Tommy is positive used to be one of their old bedspreads from upstairs. An arrangement of fake carnations sits on the small bedside table in an old glass with an old flip style alarm clock buzzing quietly beside it. A three drawer dresser is situated underneath the high, tiny window that looks out at yard level. A light blue valance is the only window dressing and fading daylight streams into the small room through it.
On top of the dresser are a few cosmetics and some perfume. A small framed picture sits beside the bottle of Lauren. Tommy walks over and picks it up; it's a photo of a young Penny next to her mother and father. She's wearing that look that tells him the abuse had already started, he can see it in her eyes. It's so clear to him now but he had no clue back then. Now every single person in that picture is dead and soon Brendan, Tess and he would be the only people left to remember Penny. Sitting the picture down he turns to Brendan and shrugs his shoulders; he has no clue what to do or where to start.
"I think I saw some boxes out by the back stairs. I'll go grab a couple and we'll start packing her clothes away."
Tommy nods and turns back to the dresser, opening the top drawer. Inside is underwear and he closes it quickly. He thinks to himself that he'll ask Heather or Tess to pack that drawer. Opening the second drawer he finds shirts; feeling much safer with the contents of this drawer he starts pulling them out and stacking them on the bed until Brendan returns. Making his way to the bottom of the drawer he spies something familiar in orange, white and black. His heart starts racing as he pulls it from the drawer. Unfolding it he turns it to look at the back and see's that it's his old autographed, game worn John LeClair jersey. Even though he'd been born and raised in Pittsburgh he'd never been a Penguins fan, preferring the flyers instead. John LeClair had been his idol, he'd possessed one of the most wicked slap shots in the league and was part of the "Legion of Doom". He was a classic goon but he'd been Tommy's favorite. His Ma had scored the jersey for him for Christmas, the last Christmas they'd spent here in Pittsburgh before running. He'd left it behind because he hadn't been able to find it in the scramble to get out before his Pops got home from work that day. How had Penny ended up with it?
Brendan comes back into the room and drops some empty boxes onto the floor. "Foods here, let's go eat before it gets cold. We've got some time in the coming week to box all this up."
Tommy looks down at the jersey and nods. He hears the running of tiny feet on the floor above them and he can't help but smile. Dropping the jersey on the bed he pushes past Brendan and heads up the steps to say hello to his nieces. The girls smile at him shyly as he emerges from the basement and he feels just as shy as he smiles back at them. Rosie runs up to him and lifts her hand towards him. Tommy looks at Tess, his eyebrow arched again because he's not sure what to do. Tess mimes that he should kiss his nieces hand so he leans over and plants a loud kiss on the top of it. Rosie giggles and turns to Emily.
"See, I told you he would know I'm a princess."
Emily rolls her eyes and turns to her mother. "Ma, I'm staaaaarving!"
"Alriiiight, let's set the table and get everyone together," Tess says, imitating her oldest daughters whining tone. She looks up at Tommy and smiles as she herds the girls towards the bathroom. "Let's start by washing our hands…"
Heather finally appears from around the corner and walks to Tommy's side. "Hey you," she says as she wraps her arms around his waist. "You doing okay?"
"Yeah, I think I am."
As the six of them sit down to dinner, Tommy looks around the table at everyone and thinks to himself that he's in a much better place than he'd ever been able to imagine. He starts to reach for a piece of pizza but Rosie intercepts his hand with her own and looks at him disapprovingly.
"Uncle Tommy, where is your manners?" She scolds him with such a fierce frown that he doesn't have the heart to smile.
"I'm sorry, what'd I do wrong?"
"We have to say Greats."
"Greats?"
"Yeah, we always have to say god is greats at Grandma's house or the food will be no good!"
Tess and Brendan laugh and receive the same scolding look that Tommy had.
"You want my pizza to be bad Mommy and Daddy?" Rosie is furious and she squeezes Tommy's hand for back up.
"You're right Rosie, we're all very sorry. Will you please say the greats for us?"
As they all joined hands and bowed their heads it was the first time that Tommy felt like he really had a family and the first time he felt like he didn't have to stumble through the world all alone. Tomorrow would be the proving ground; if he had the help of these people who sat around the table with him then he could endure it.