Addendum 6.8 – "Savor the Veal 'pt. 4'"

May 1993 – Fairfield High School, CT

Jonathan bumped his backpack higher up on his shoulder and looked up to the harsh afternoon sun.

"Yo, Bower!"

Scowling, Jonathan slowly turned around to an empty soda can colliding with his forehead.

"Toss that in the trash for me, will ya, buddy?"

Pulling the waist of his girlfriend closer, the older boy laughed and received affirmative high-fives from the cluster of mates around him. The whole lot of them laughed their way over to their cars, leaving the young sophomore to stare down at the dented can.

A distant reverberation of thunder brought Jonathan's head back up, and he watched dark clouds roll in from the north. Kicking a few pebbles off the concrete, he dragged himself through the muggy heat toward the line of lowerclassmen-laden busses.

Just then, a blue pickup with a rental sticker flashed up to the curb, and the window cranked down.

"Jonathan!"

Jonathan squinted into the cab for a few seconds as the shadowed figure came into view.

"Dad? …Dad!"

"Get in, buddy."

Jonathan yanked open the handle, "I can't believe you came!"

Michael smiled widely as Jonathan clicked in, "Yeah, I've been itching for a real hike. But come on; let's go to Louis' first. I'm starving!"

A grinning Jonathan nodded while Michael gunned the gas past student parking.

Michael's shockingly well-demarcated forearm showed a tight hold on his burger while his other hand plucked a small bunch of fries.

"So, what's this club you're trying to get into again?"

Jonathan stopped slurping his Pepsi and popped his eyebrows up excitedly, "National Honor Society! And I got in; it's just the ceremony."

"A ceremony? To join a club?"

"Well, it's kinda selective. It's actually a pretty bid deal… Mom was in it!"

Michael shrugged sarcastically, "Well, hey, if that's how you become a 'good citizen'…"

Jonathan's gaze flickered to his food, and he took a tiny bite.

Unaccounted for seconds rolled by, and, recalculating, Michael landed on a new topic. "You uh… you like your burger?"

Jonathan's timid eyes eventually found their way to his dad's. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, we love Louis'."

"Who's we?"

"Me and Tony and Mom and Sam and Gran-"

Michael lifted his Pepsi glass, "I get the picture."

More seconds stretched through his lengthy gulp until Jonathan let out a nervous laugh, "Yeah... You know, Tony told me this funny story about this place and Mom once."

Eyelids halfway down, Michael twirled a lonely fry into his ketchup, "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jonathan laughed a bit more genuinely. "Yeah, I guess her prom dress fell off, falling down these big stairs or something, and the guy took her here afterward." He dipped some fries into his milkshake, still chuckling.

A smile started to creep up Michael's face, "No kiddin'?"

"Nope!"

The smile was turning slithery, "High school, no less…"

A still oblivious Jonathan looked off into the distance of memory as he chewed, "No… no I think it was college."

"Come early, come often…" Michael rolled his eyes and finished his drink.

"Huh?"

Michael plunked his cup down and shoved the burger into his mouth, "Nothing."

But he continued to mumble angrily to himself as he chewed, "-Can't believe how many times we came here… Always said it was her fuckin' favorite…"

Jonathan stopped staring at his musing father and made a nervous glance at his watch.

Michael noticed.

"What's the matter?"

Jonathan looked up, "Oh, nothing. It was just getting late, and we're already kind of a ways away."

"From what?"

"Home."

"Your bedtime's in the afternoon?"

"No," Jonathan sneered defensively, but at his father's challenging shift in eye contact, he bowed back down. "I just have homework and stuff..."

"I thought you had to have good grades to get into this club. And I flew in cuz you asked me to. You can't spare a few hours for your dad?"

Jonanthan looked back up, "I do! And ye- yeah, I can, normally. I just… finals are coming up. And we're already-"

"I wasn't even gonna take you on a hike around here. This suburban shit is for city folk. I flew in my gear!"

"Gear?"

"Climbing gear, Jonathan!"

"For what? What's wrong with what you're wearing?"

"We're not playing in the woods, son. You could do that when you were a toddler."

"W-Why are you ma-?"

Michael leaned closer, "I wanted to take you on an actual hike. With elevation, steep rocks. I want you to learn how to climb - up a fucking mountain, something Goddamn useful for once."

"Dad, I just-"

"-Get your stuff. Let's go." Michael snatched up his trash and threw it away.

Michael drove Jonathan home in silence and put the car in park.

Releasing a long sigh into the windshield, Michael started softly, "Look, Jonathan… what do you say we hit an easier trail this time? I've been wanting to give Bear Mountain another go, anyway."

Jonathan didn't answer, and Michael looked over at him, crinkling his nose, "Why don't you go put on something you're allowed to get dirty? …God, you look like a Gap ad."

Jonathan's face flushed, and he looked down again. Slowly opening his door, he got out and braved another look to his dad, "Did you talk to Mom yet?"

"About what?"

"Going hiking."

"Trust me, son," he scoffed bitterly. "She won't want to go."

"No, I mean, she's back from Iowa. I have to see if I can go."

Michael narrowed his eyes, "I'm your father. I'm saying you can go."

Letting out a tense, little, "Okaaay…" Jonathan shut the door.

"I go outside," Jonathan's defiant little voice pricked their bubble of silence.

As slowly as the truck rounded its way through the muddy dirt parking lot of the Bear Mountain trailhead, a distant reply followed the few moments it took Michael to register Jonathan's reference.

"Yeah, nice tan, Snow White."

Jonathan glared over at his dad, but Michael didn't seem to notice.

Pulling into an empty spot, the rain plunking more noticeably onto the truck now that the engine was off, Michael shook his head, "You used to be outside all the time. Diggin' up good shit for your pets to eat… doin' real stuff."

"Yeah, well, now I like making money, getting good grades, baseball... I'm working a lot. Most of our preseason is on an indoor turf. We just started on the field a couple weeks ago-"

"Plastic grass…" Michael mumbled under his breath. Gesturing toward Jonathan's arm, he continued to pick, "You planning on taking those bitty twigs to the majors or something?"

"No! I just like it! And when I was in gymnastics, I could do 16 pullups!"

But Michael was just getting going - "But not anymore, huh? Now you're gonna fart around, spending hours learning the stupidest shit that has nothing to do with real life-"

"I study, too! I'm going to apply to Yale!"

Michael shook his head, "College…"

"Yeah, college! A good one! I want to be a stockbroker. My portfolio is already-"

At that, Michael's disgusted laugh broke in, "Your grandfather would be very proud."

Jonathan's face momentarily lost its pleading frustration, "Grandfather?... Yeah, he was a banker, but that's not why-"

"Not that grandfather. Your other grandfather. My father. You do have two parents, you know!"

Jonathan's wide eyes of innocence fell open, "I do?"

Michael turned a slow smirk over at his son and answered quietly, "You are definitely your mother's son."

But Jonathan wasn't having it.

"What else would I be!? I haven't seen you since 6th grade! You pulled me out of class to tell me you were going somewhere again and didn't know when you'd be back! I had to go cry in the bathroom! … But hey, I did get a couple postcards! Is that what was supposed to remind me to 'get outside' and be like you? Why would I want to do that!? If it weren't for the fact that you didn't stink, you'd look homeless!"

An evil smile curved into a dark whisper, "I am," before a bitter chuckle proceeded from Michael's deeply weathered features.

"Damn, son. You're better than your mother. I always knew she was angry, even when she pretended to be all sweet and nice." He popped his eyebrows up and pointed at Jonathan, "But you- you had me fooled. I had no idea all that rage was in there."

A brief, mocking clap from Michael morphed into complete fury on Jonathan's face.

"Why are you like this? You really think you can be gone all the time, and it doesn't mean anything? Of course, I'm mad! You took away my dad!"

The snark instantly left Michael's face, but with nothing for his open mouth to say.

"Oh, forget it!" Jonathan simultaneously unclicked his buckle and yanked open the door handle. He was out in the pelting rain before Michael could say his name.

Tony slumped in through the front door, still remembering to hold it open for Angela. They'd had a quiet ride home, but she felt the need to broach and stopped in the doorframe, "I wish today had gone differently."

With a small shake to his head, he slowly moved them inside and shut the door, "No. No, you were right. There is a limit to family, what they can handle, what they should know about you. You can't count on everybody to stick by you through everything... It's good I know that now." His dead shoulders shrugged, "I need to be careful what I tell people; like you are."

Her heart broke at his defeated sincerity. The vivacious life that had always powered through him, constantly nurturing her toward opening herself up, had met its match. She didn't want him to lose that. She didn't feel brave enough for that lifestyle, but he'd always been living, breathing hope that maybe she was wrong.

Wishing she could pump that same life back in him, she tried, "Mrs. Rossini loves you, Tony, but she's been through a lot."

"Yeah, I know. I just thought… I thought nothing could make her not be on my side." He shrugged again, "I thought she'd always have my back, no matter how stupid I got… I thought she'd give me a hug – maybe a smack upside the head - and help guide me back, ya know?"

"Just because she can't right now, doesn't mean she wouldn't want to."

"What difference does it make? She won't, or can't - she can't handle the thought of me messing up like that. I have to be careful what I tell her now." He finished quietly, "I didn't know I had to do that."

Angela's eyebrows twisted up as she listened to her very own fear commandeer her fiancé's mouth.

"Angela, my whole life, my whole neighborhood, was loud and prying, and everybody knew everything about everybody. Nothing was off the table. I knew about Marty payin' his workers under the table. I knew about every kid who scored an early copy of a final exam. I knew about my next door neighbor's fat and healthy baby being born a few months too early… But Mrs. Rossini, she- she always welcomed everyone. Even if she was pissy about it at first, at the end of the day, she'd always say, 'There but for the grace, Tony." Tony's strained voice turned to a plea, "Why is it I'm the only one she can't handle?"

Still with very little to offer, Angela just shook her head. "I don't know," she whispered. "She loves you. I do know that… It's probably because she loves you so much, she can't lump you in with the same thing that broke her heart. She probably still thinks of Joe as a monster for doing what he did."

Tony started to look very scared.

"He really hurt her, Tony."

His tiny voice reached back, "But I need her."

Shaking her head slowly, she ran the thumb of her open palm across his cheek, "She can't right now. …But I'm here."

Tony's face suddenly looked unbearably miserable, "Do you think I'm a monster?"

"Certainly not," she whispered, now more sure of that than ever.

Tony swallowed.

A pause settled between them, and Angela's own eyes started to round out, "…Am I?"

Shaking his head, he squeezed his teary eyes shut and pulled her into a tight hug, "God, no."

She clenched his shirt in grateful fists and dropped one more bomb behind his ear, "She's human, too, Tony. Don't forget that."

She felt him breathe a couple times before she heard, "She's Mrs. Rossini, Angela. That's not human. That's my mom."

"I know," she whispered. "I know. And you're her Tony."

Tony pulled back slowly and looked her square in the eye. "I'm your Tony."

A little laugh escaped her, "Yeah. And I do want you to tell me anything you've got in there." She shrugged, "It helps me remember I can, too."

Squeezing her arms, he nodded, "Good," and took a deep breath.

He let her go and pinched the remains of tears out of his eyes, "So, what are you thinkin' about dinner? I had chicken defrosting, and I was gonna do kebabs, but-"

"What's this?" Squinting, Angela lifted a scrap of taped-on paper from the banister.

Tony sniffed and turned toward her, "Huh?" He shrugged, "I dunno."

Each syllable more enunciated than the one before, Angela read the note aloud:

Mom,

Dad is taking me hiking, I guess. He said I didn't have to ask you.

If you want to come get me or anything, we're going to Bear Mountain. I think it's far away.

Jonathan

"-the hell?"

Tony took the note, "Aw, shit."

"That arrogant asshole. Where does he get off?"

Tony made a long exhale.

"Just flies in out of nowhere and takes my son!"

As angry as she wanted to be, Angela's head started to swell the harder she tried to make sense of the information. Squinting at the paper for a moment or two, something started to swirl.

"What do you think that means: 'If you want to come get me or anything' - do you think Jonathan's in trouble?"

"Angela, if there's anyone who knows the woods, it's Michael."

"But who knows Michael? This note doesn't sound confident or even excited, does it? Do you think he was wanting me to come get him?"

"Angela, we don't even- do you know where Bear Mountain is?"

"What difference does it make!? Tony, my son is begging me to come get him!"

Putting his hands up, Tony stopped an eyeroll and tried to calm her down, "Okay, okay. We'll check it out."

Angela's eyes bugged out at the map on the gas station's counter. "Bear Mountain… It's in Mount Riga State Park. That's like 80 miles away! It's a fucking school night, Michael!"

The clerk stopped staring dreamily at Angela and glared over at Tony, "Yeah, Michael."

Confused annoyance brought her lagged attention up to the clerk. "That's Tony," she said absently, flicking her head to the side.

"Oh…"

Tony rolled his eyes and paid for the map in cash. Eyeing the clerk as he spun Angela toward the parking lot, he led her by the small of her back, "Come on. Let's get started."

Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, Michael glanced down again at the analog clock embedded in the dashboard and let out an exasperated growl.

"Just like his mother. Runs off and expects me to go get him…"

He threw open the door and stepped into the gushing east coast rain. Balling up the now-pointless rain jacket in a flurry, he chucked it back in the cab and slammed the door.

Storming toward the base of the trail, he shook his head back and forth, "Mouth like his mother. Temper like his mother…"

"…Impulsive like his mother. Foolish like his mother…"

At the fork, Michael stopped and stared at the sign.

To the left, an easy grade rose toward the mountain while the right veered away from it.

Glaring in defeat, he shook his head again, "There's no way he went the right way..." Kicking at a rock, he screamed into the sobbing heavens, "Couldn't he get anything from me!?"

Hollering out toward the driving rain, he shouted "…Just cuz this way looks easy now, kid, doesn't mean this bitch don't bite!"

One sloshing stomp in front of the other, Michael started clockwise up the 6 mile loop. "You, in your stupid, no-tread, skater shoes, how are they going to help you!? This is the real world, Daddy Warbucks! You gonna shelter under your 'portfolio'!? …Shit!" Picking up a stray stick, Michael hurled it furiously into the bushes and continued through the slop.