Addendum 6.7 – "Savor the Veal 'pt. 4'"

May 1993 – Brooklyn, NY

The squealy whine of the street door hinges welcomed Tony and Angela out of Pitkin Avenue's gray grit and into the damp cement blocks of Mrs. Rossini's stairwell. An involuntary crinkle to her nose went gratefully unnoticed as he made sure the heavy door he'd held open clicked shut.

"Ugh," Tony gurgled in disgust. "Idiots still peein' in here? Don't they know this is where people live?"

Angela gave him a small smile, choosing to focus on the still-audible voices of the little girls jumping rope outside, and held out her hand.

He didn't often so harshly distance himself from the stark realities of his home city, and it reassured her. She wanted to grow, too. Just because something is normal doesn't mean it should stay that way.

He took her hand, and they both used each other instead of the handrails to steady their ascent. He was walking noticeably slower than usual and gripped her in clammy determination.

"I haven't been this nervous to walk in here since I was foolin' around in St. Louis," Tony breathed.

Angela squeezed his hand tighter. She was going to be there for him, but this was hard for her, too.

She didn't like thinking about all he'd told her. Even if there was freedom for them both to grasp in the light of truth – the same light that had revealed her own indiscretions - it still hurt.

A lot.

The last three years, forever marked by that dreadful afternoon when she'd watched Tony's guilty face tell her all she'd needed to know about Kathleen, now seemed like a lapse of minutes. Returning to the scene of a previous crime seemed to jolt her with the timeless limbic prod of similarity, and she shut her eyes against the sting.

But she wanted a different ending. She wanted to square up to both of their pasts with only an allegiance to the future, and she wanted to do it together. Fortunately, their clammy hands were still holding fast.

"Tony, we're here to set you free, not to keep punishing you. I'm with you."

She'd tried to catch his troubled eye, but he didn't let her.

He did, however, pull up her hand and kiss the back of it, and as they continued their solemn climb to only the 2nd floor, she accepted the best he could give.

Tony was clearly trying to keep calm, as he had been all day - as far as Angela could tell, leaning fully into this new sense of responsibility they were both endeavoring to trust. But nothing had been easier since leaving the medical records window at Kings County that morning.

After a solid 10 hours of 100 percent dreamless sleep with the warmth of each other's souls finally in reach, she'd called her office, checking in but staying out, and she and Tony had taken in a quiet morning of eggs, juice, and coffee, finally making their way to the hospital.

She supposed the clerk was as helpful as he could be, but that wasn't much.

"Look, even if we kept detailed records past six years, it sure wouldn't be twelve. The death certificate is all we got."

Tony's head had dropped to his chest, and Angela had leaned into the conversation separated by the swung open, top half of the wooden, customer service door.

"But 'cardiac arrest'? It doesn't say why."

The clerk shrugged, "That's the blanket term they use, lady. Either this 'Dr. Savoy' didn't know, or he didn't wanna bother writin' more down. The bottom line is, her heart gave out."

Angela had looked over at her precious fiancé's beaten face.

The clerk must've noticed, too, because a nervous empathy finally seemed to break through the open door, "…If you really needed to know for a blood relative's health history or somethin', sometimes the NCHS gets the info from Vital Statistics, but the program isn't always funded, so…" he shrugged again.

More maybes.

Putting her hand to Tony's shoulder, she'd steered him away, "Thank you for your help."

The clerk had nodded and motioned to the next person in line, and Tony and Angela left the window with about as much as they came.

"'doctor didn't care enough… I didn't care enough…"

She'd squeezed his shoulder as they'd walked through the heavily sanitized hallways.

Every inquiry was costing him, and Angela was about to suggest they consider it a stalemate when he'd offered the courageous possibility that Mrs. Rossini might remember something.

Tony needed closure, and as scary as this was, nothing was scarier than permitting the brutal banshees of guilt carte blanche on the rest of his life.

"Let's go," she'd smiled.

Now, as they reached the top step, Tony let go of her hand and grabbed the stairwell door.

He wasn't saying anything. She wasn't saying anything.

The stagnant hallway air was musty and thick, its dust mostly visible near the harsh fluorescent lights, but that didn't seem to be the reason neither had breath to speak.

It took several seconds of standing in front of Mrs. Rossini's door before his fist popped up and knocked with surprising confidence.

They heard Mrs. Rossini's muffled New York accent from directly below the peephole, "Tony!"

The woman's exuberance continued after she unlatched the multiple locks and pulled them both inside.

"What are you two doin' this side'a town? Why didn't you call? I'd'a made veal!"

Giving a little chuckle, they both hugged her gratefully and started to answer at the same time.

"Mrs. Rossini-"

"Hey, Mrs. R-"

She waved them off, "Ah, well. I have torta al limone! Sit, sit!" and then bustled to the kitchen.

They obeyed and weren't alone fifteen seconds on the squeaky plastic of her immaculate couch before she was back in the room, deftly balancing saucers, utensils, and cake.

"Would you like coffee?" she hurried, setting down her items.

Tony dove in while Mrs. Rossini started to cut the dessert.

"Uh, no, no…."

He's so nervous. Angela's broken heart squeezed his knee.

He briefed a glance back at her and cleared his throat.

"Uh, Mrs. R…"

Mrs. Rossini looked up to him as she handed Angela a piece.

"Mrs. Rossini," he tried again, still holding his breath, "do you remember- this is gonna seem a little outta left field, but-"

She smiled at him, again, clearly not understanding his hesitation.

"But- uh… do you remember what Marie died of?"

There was an understandable pause to the room, but then Mrs. Rossini let out a disbelieving laugh, "What?"

"Marie. I- I don't remember what the doctor said was wrong with her heart… do you?"

Mrs. Rossini sat down to finish cutting his piece and watched herself use the knife to bring it to the next plate, "Uh… well, I don't know, Tony..."

Her voice was softer now, but somehow, still as insistent as always. "I thought it was a heart attack, but she was at the post office when it happened. They called her the ambulance."

"Oh, that's right…"

Mrs. Rossini nodded, "Yes, thank God, I had Samantha with me when it happened. Poor thing would'a been scared to death."

Angela chimed in, hopefully, "So you don't remember anything specific the doctor said?"

Mrs. Rossini sucked some powdered sugar off her finger and sat down with a slice of her own. "Oh, I don't know- what's with all the questions? You two look so serious!"

Tony swallowed and finally braved a look at his second mother, "I've been thinkin' about how it all went down back then, and uh- I'd really like to know. The hospital records didn't go back that far."

"The hospital? You two went all the way in there for this? Tony, if you've been fine for this long-"

"I haven't been fine, Mrs. R! I need to know what happened!"

"Tony." Mrs. Rossini forced what might have been classified as a laugh, "What good does riflin' through the past do? That was a terrible time. You don't need more pain."

Tony sighed and looked away.

Mrs. Rossini rushed through the uncomfortable silence, "What you need to do is focus on your future. I finally got some relief last week when you called, sayin' you'd come back to us - where you belong - with your family, people who love you-"

Tony looked up that same defeated face again.

She pointed toward Angela, "And now all you've got to do is finally marry Angela and make an honest woman out of her."

"Mrs. Rossini!" Tony belted.

Angela looked down as Mrs. Rossini held up her hands to Tony's furious defense, "I didn't mean anythi- …You know how much I adore Angela!"

"Angela is way more honest than me!"

That's not true.

But Tony sped ahead, "That's why I'm here! I want to know what my lies did to Marie."

"Lies?" Mrs. Rossini scrunched her nose, "What lies? You didn't do anything. You weren't even here!"

Angela held her breath longer than Tony did before he answered with whatever oxygen he had to spare, "…I- I wasn't tellin' Marie the truth back then."

Mrs. Rossini's face changed for just an instant before her whole posture retreated into her own plastic-covered chair, and she shook her head down at her cake. Stabbing a large hunk, she shoved it in her mouth and spoke before finishing, "This is nonsense. Good folks don't go stirin' up-"

"Mrs. Rossini, will you please-"

"No!" Mrs. Rossini swallowed roughly and plunked her little piece of hand-painted Sicilian finery onto the coffee table in front of her. Standing up, she hovered over the scene.

"I don't wanna hear it! You don't need to go diggin' things up, Tony. Move on with your life." She shot another palm out to Angela. "Be happy with Angela! She's good for you …and you're a good boy."

She smiled down at him with such determined nostalgia, it seemed to Angela almost evil. "…You're my good Tony."

Tony sighed again and rose, reaching out for the polyester florals of Mrs. Rossini's sleeve. "Mrs. R, you've always been there for me and my family. You've been a good neighbor… but I wasn't so good-"

She waved him off again, "You were a good boy!"

Angela stood up with them and spoke quietly, "Mrs. Rossini, do you know what Marie died of?"

Mrs. Rossini tossed her hands in the air, "Oh, for God's sake! Even the doctors didn't know!"

Tony squinted at the older lady, and she immediately bent over to pick up his plate of untouched cake.

"Mrs. R., please-"

She didn't look at him as she put his plate back down and brought her own to the dining room table. Taking a visibly deep breath, she turned around where she stood and smiled over at Angela. "Eat your torta, sweetheart; put some meat on those bones!"

Angela sighed and sat down again.

Tony followed, leaning weighty elbows onto his knees.

Mrs. Rossini added her own exhale to the frustration in the room and walked back over to Tony, putting a solid hand on his shoulder. "Tony, you're as good as a son, to me. Heck, even my Joey didn't stick around. But you? You were always a good boy…"

She shrugged, "And who hasn't told a few fibs? Let it rest. Let her rest. Marie was good to you, and you were good to her. You two were a sweet couple… a good memory for this neighborhood, even if it was too short. No one knows why her heart quit on her. But it wasn't you, cuz you were a good husband. I know bad husbands..."

She took a few moments to quiet herself, absently rubbing Tony's shoulder as she stared into the distance. "Bad husbands spend 38 years tellin' their women how much they like their scaloppine… and then wake up one morning and say they want someone else."

Her kneading got harder and deeper until Tony cringed, but she didn't seem to notice.

"You never did that to Marie. Everybody knew you two had a good thing goin'."

She stopped kneading and then patted his shoulder comically, "You two didn't leave much to the imagination."

Tony rolled his eyes along with his shoulder.

Straightening, Mrs. Rossini let out a flippant breath, "Forgive yourself for whatever little thing you did, and know she would want you to, too. Wouldn't she? Of course, she would."

Tony shook his head, still not looking at her, "Mrs. Rossini, I-"

"You're not like Joe, Tony. If anyone had a right to keel over dead, it was me. But that didn't happen. Marie's heart stopped with no cause to you. Sometimes bad things happen. But that was a long time ago, and you've got another good thing goin' now."

She tossed a nod to Angela, "So, go on. Focus on your future and win one for the rest of us, why dontcha?"

The question wafted unanswered as Tony looked to Angela, who held his stare in the beseeching void.

Picking up her plate, Angela started to eat.

"This is delicious, Mrs. Rossini. Really delicious."