Post Farewell to Nick
Angela peered into the hallway from her bedroom doorway and noted the absolute silence of the house. It had been an emotional evening, particularly for Samantha, who paid her final respects to the flawed grandfather she adored. Although Nick's death affected them all, Sam naturally took it the hardest. After a night of pasta, wine, grape juice, stories, memories, and toast after toast to the incomparable Nick Milano, the adrenaline had run high. But once the energy of the evening began to fade, exhaustion set in, and Sam was asleep shortly after they returned home - far earlier than was the custom of a typical fifteen-year-old girl.
When Angela said she was going to tuck Jonathan into bed, Tony had said he was going to prep a French toast casserole for breakfast before turning in early himself.
That had been over an hour ago, but Angela hadn't heard him enter his room across the hall. Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her, leading her into the quiet hall and toward the stairs, where a faint light was visible from the first floor. As she made her way down the steps, she found Tony sitting on the couch, surrounded by papers and photographs from a shoe box on the coffee table.
"Hey there," she said softly to get his attention.
He glanced up as if stirred from a trance. "Angela, hi, is everything okay?" he asked, always concerned for other people.
"Yeah, fine, I just didn't hear you come upstairs and wondered what was keeping you," she explained as she took in the array of photos and other ephemera that was scattered around him.
"I kinda got caught up going through this box of old stuff Bambi sent from Nick's apartment. She said it had my name on it."
Angela took a seat beside him and picked up the first photo she saw. "Is this Sam?" she asked, looking at the tiny baby with brown hair and eyes, propped on a pillow.
Tony nodded and smiled. "Her first formal picture. She was maybe a month old. Marie took her to a little studio around the corner from our apartment."
"She looked like you even then," Angela observed.
"You think? Anytime I look at her, all I see is Marie."
"I've never seen a picture of Marie, so I guess I can't really say."
Tony seemed surprised at her statement. "You've never seen her picture?"
She shook her head.
"Huh, I guess I didn't realize I never showed you one," he said, searching through a pile before handing her one. "This brings back memories," he mused as he handed her a faded photo of himself and Marie in their high school cap and gown. Tony looked young and boyish in his blue robe, and Marie was truly the spitting image of Sam in yellow.
"Wow, I see it now," she confirmed.
"She was so beautiful," he said wistfully, and then picked up another photo from the pile. "Here she is, pregnant with Sam."
One by one they went through pictures of the Micelli and Milano families that Nick had saved since his daughter's death nearly a decade earlier. Because their neighborhood had been so close-knit, there were also pictures of the Rossini family, the Guvanales and Castaluccis, and most poignantly, photos of Tony's parents he hadn't seen in years.
The onslaught of memories eventually caught up with him as he lowered his head into his hands. "I miss them so much." His voice was low and strained, prompting Angela to reach over and grasp his arm in support.
"You've endured a lot of loss for someone so young."
He inhaled deeply and blew out a long breath. "With Nick gone, I feel like my last link to that life in Brooklyn, to my family, has been severed, like all that's left there for me are ghosts of people I loved."
His voice broke and tears streaked his face.
When Angela wrapped her arms around him and pulled him toward her, he welcomed the comfort of her embrace. "I'm so sorry, Tony. I wish I could do something," she said, feeling her own eyes begin to well up.
He held her tight a while longer before drawing back and gently wiping the tears from her cheek. "You do everything, Angela. You're here now. And you gave me and Sam a new home and family."
What could she say to that except the truth? "You brought so much into my home …" then, softer, "into my life."
He lifted her chin until their eyes locked. "Then it seems our lives worked out how they were supposed to."
Amid the scattered chaos of photographic memories, time seemed to stop.
"Will you help me sort through all of this for Sam?" he asked when he felt his composure return.
She placed her hand against his cheek and promised softly, "Of course I will."
He nodded his thanks, "I'm glad I don't have to do this alone."
"Not on my watch," she replied with a smile.
With a last squeeze of her hand and a look of undisguised affection, he picked up a stack of photos and they got to work.