Vincent D’Antoni turned the corner from Central to 3rd street trying not to be nervous. It wasn’t like he and Fiona were a newly minted couple or anything. And, technically, Fiona would probably marry him even if her father said ‘no’. But Vincent was still old fashioned. He wanted to ask traditionally. And John Reinhardt was also a bit old fashioned. He may have been the happiest of everyone when the internet and television stations went out. It didn't affect his job much, as the cannery and the city power station were in the same building … and now the cannery was mostly no more and John was in charge of the whole power station.
John Reinhardt was home from work at a glorious time when the house was empty. He had been looking forward to this. He changed out of his work clothes into an old pair of jeans and a red flannel shirt and headed to the garage which was also his workshop. He had salvaged an old boat and was in the process of restoring it. It was a relaxing hobby, Stripping and sanding and painting. Simple tasks that brought him great joy. Today he was sanding the exterior bow to stern. He cracked a beer as he walked in and set it on his metal shelf of tools after taking a long sip. The garage door was open and he began rough sanding the bow by and finding his rhythm as he leaned into the task.
Vincent passed Mrs Norris’s house, but she wasn’t out waiting to glare at passerby. Soon after passing it, he heard the sound of sandpaper and soon approached the open garage door of the house. Looking casual, he walked until he was just outside of the garage proper, then cleared his throat out of nerves, but did not speak … waiting to be noticed.
John paused his sanding and looked out, hearing a noise. He grinned as he noticed Vincent and then looked around him, clearly expecting Fiona too "Hiya.....just you?" A moment of concern crossed his face. Was his daughter hurt or unwell? He stood all the way up and brushed his hands together after setting the sander on the edge of the boat.
Vincent noticed the concern and quickly tried to put the man at ease. “Just me. Fiona’s home making sure she’s current for the college once she’s accepted.” he tells her. They probably wouldn’t get in and start classes before the Fall term. He pauses a moment. “I was hoping to talk to you…” he begins, partly wanting to get it over with before he chickened out. He clears his throat, but no words come out.
John visibly relaxed a little but was very curious now. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned his side into the boat, not trying to tower over Vincent and intimidate the guy. Did the kids need money? Currency had been less of a thing during the break from the world but now maybe things were changing. He pondered without questioning and then wanted to try and make Vincent comfortable enough to open up. "Sure...hey wanna beer?" It was the quintessential icebreaker after all. He stepped away from the boat ready to head to the fridge.
Vincent wasn’t much of a drinker. He knew he could with parental consent and he was pretty sure Darcy, his mom, would allow it. “Yea.” he replies, making to follow John inside of the house. “I could use a drink.” he understands a little better the times his father would say that when he was under stress. Then again, his father drank almost constantly. But Vincent knew … he was not his father. But he could use something for the butterflies in his stomach … they felt like bats.
John grabs his own beer still in progress and leads the way. "Slow progress on Patsy anyway. You ever sail Vincent?"" He steps into the kitchen and opens the fridge, passing Vincent a beer. It's a twist off cap but not an easy one. John settles himself into a stool around the kitchen island leaving the one beside him open for Vincent if he wants it.
Vincent follows and takes the beer. “Patsy? Oh .. yea the boat.” he realizes as he struggles a bit with the cap. He dries his hands and tries again as he answers. “Never, sir.” he replies as the cap comes off and he almost fumbles the bottle. He sets it on the counter and blows out a calming breath. He wasn't this nervous yesterday when he asked Fiona to marry him, but John Reinhardt was her father and he respected him a lot. But he realized that he might not make it through this. He takes a tentative sip of the beer, swallows and stands at the counter. “Mr. Reinhardt.” he begins. “I wanted to talk to you about Fiona.” he doesn’t realize how formal he is being. Usually it was John.
John frowns a little and then chuckles “Mr. Reinhardt? Vincent, what the hell? You haven’t called me that since...” An idea visibly crosses his mind and his eyes pop as he slams down his beer “Is Fiona pregnant?!”
Vincent jumped when the beer hit the counter. “No!” he nearly shouted. “No, si … John. We’re very careful about that.” he blew out a breath. “I love Fiona, John.” he finally just outs with it. “I came over here because I wanted to ask you if it was alright by you if I married Fiona.” he blinks and swallows. “I almost asked on my birthday, but I chickened out. Figured it was enough when Fiona announced we were going to live together. But we’ve talked about it and she was surprised I wanted to take the name Reinhardt instead of her taking D’Antoni, but … “ he realized he was rambling and swallowed audibly. “We love each other and we want to get married.” There. It was out. More than he’d planned to say initially, but it was out.
John just stared with an unreadable expression for almost two full minutes. He had worked himself up about the pregnancy idea and then immediately felt like an idiot. Of course they were careful. It took him some time to digest what Vincent was actually saying. Once that sunk in he let out a big breath and then just started laughing. Catching his breath he took a swig of his beer and then set it down more gently. John reached out and cupped Vincent’s shoulder and gave a look of sincere tenderness, fatherly tenderness “Vincent...” He exhaled. “I know how much you and Fiona love each other. You remind me of Colleen and I. Thing is...you asked her and she said yes. You don’t need to ask me. I appreciate the consideration. We don’t own our kids. They just come to the world through us. I know I was a hard ass at first and I’m sorry about that. I want Fiona to have love and happiness and I know she does with you.” He laughs again now “Did you say you wanna be a Reinhardt?” He eases the hand off Vincent’s shoulder and rubs his chin “God help you kid...”
Vincent is a little nervous about the laughter, but as John speaks, he physically relaxes. “Thank you, John.” he replies. “I guess I am kind of old fashioned. I asked her on bended knee.” he doesn’t mention that he was naked. “Besides, if Giovanni even thought I hadn’t spoken to you…” he adopts the stereotypical Italian mafia accent. “I’d be sleepin wit da fishes.” Then he chuckles. “Of course I want to be a Reinhardt. Being a D’Antoni….” he didn’t speak much about his father or even his life with his father to anyone but Fiona really. But he was starting a new life with Fiona. As a Reinhardt. Maybe he and John had much more in common than they’d ever thought.
John grins "Well we can't have you at the bottom of the pacific now." He leans in, folding his arms in front of him and resting on the elbows "Being a D'Antoni? Do you want to talk that through before putting it behind you? Shit comes back you know....especially when you have kids."
Vincent opened his mouth to say no, he wouldn’t like to talk it through before John finished the sentence. But John mentioned kids. His kids … with Fiona. And he didn’t ever want his shit coming back on him. He closes his mouth and inhales, exhales and then takes a deep drink from his beer. Then he takes the beer to the stool beside John and sits, setting the drink in front of him. “My mom used to drug my father. Just a couple of over-the-counter antihistamines in whatever he was drinking. One to calm him down, two to knock him out for a couple hours and three to knock him out all night if he was bad enough. She started doing it because I ran into their bedroom when he was …” he tightens his jaw and one hand on the counter forms a fist. “Raping her. He stopped … and knocked me across the room. Broke my nose. I was nine. He’d never broken anything before that. Mostly just beatings I’d have to wear long sleeves for.” he clears his throat. “Mom always got between us and took the hits for me.” he blows out a breath. “But she couldn’t do that after she died.” he tightens his jaw again and runs a finger down the condensation on his glass beer bottle. “I fought to come here. Not in like arguing my case, which I did do. I mean it came to blows. He agreed to move here I think because I wouldn’t stop fighting. Not for the last thing my mother wanted me to do.” he pauses and closes his eyes. “Well that, and I pulled a knife on him.”
John listened to Vincent with intense presence. His jaw set as he went on and then clenched a minute later. You could see the pain in his eyes, pain for the kid's experience and the pain of old wounds. He knew this tale all too well. His gaze dropped to follow the finger Vincent traced down his beer bottle. He sighed heavily and nodded after Vincent finished "I'm so sorry. My old man was cut from the same cloth. It takes everything in your being to stand up to it...I know. My mom tried to protect Mike and I too...and got the worst of him. I'm not sad he died, relieved actually. But it stays with you Vincent. You ever...uh...talk to anyone...I mean like a professional?"
Vincent nods, as he listens. “I was so jealous of you and Michael when your Dad died.” he remembers. “Mom sent me to Mr. Singh after I moved in with her. I told him about all that and how, even after we moved here he didn’t stop.” he bites his lip. “Fiona knew, but she didn’t KNOW .. if that makes sense. I didn’t tell her the frequency or anything and, it was later in the year, so hiding the bruises didn’t raise anyone’s red flags.” he snorts a laugh. “Remember when Adum Brate came by because of all the women Gino was grabbing? Fiona told me that if it got really bad I should come here and she’d make it OK with you.” he chuckles. “I told her no .. but I also told her I didn’t want her coming by my place any more than you did. Gino thought Fiona was …” his jaw pops because he clenches it. “If he’d touched Fiona I’d still be in prison.” he growls. “But in the end, I went to live with mom and he left the island and got a Cross Canada warrant on him, so he’s probably in prison for raping a woman … the day my mother died.”
John cringes and makes a guttural noise "It's hard not to feel ashamed of where you come from when you've got that kinda asshole for a father. I know. Believe me I do. And if Fiona had told me what was going on we would have let you stay, no questions. I'm glad he's locked up. You can name yourself whatever you like Vincent but you still need to sort it all out. Are you still going to Singh? He's good I've heard. I went to a woman named Mary Henry...off island. Didn't want the people who work for me to....it's stupid macho bullshit I know...but I didn't want to tell anyone I was getting help. Aside from Colleen, who basically would have taken the kids and left me if I didn't...twice. You gotta deal with it before you have kids is what I'm saying. They trigger things in you you didn't even know were there." John clenched his jaw again and his eyes filled with tears "I couldn't control my anger....I thought I was gonna hit one of mine....never did but even the thought scared the shit outta me." John swallowed hard, looking self conscious about his vulnerability.
Vincent sighs deeply and drinks from the beer. “I know you do and I appreciate knowing you would have let me stay but… I had my own macho bullshit, even then.” he licks his lips. “Yea. I still see Singh. The first time was after that fight that got me suspended. When I beat up Joey Piccolo because he told Daisy to get rid of her baby … which is probably what Gino told my mom before her father made them get married. Mr. VanBuren broke it up, but if he hadn’t pulled me off Joey…” he swallows hard. “My temper scared me back then. Not as much now, but then again nothing has happened to test it. I was kind of GLAD when we got cut off, to be honest about it. Playing the harp helps. The music is really soothing, especially now I don’t have anyone telling me what a faggot it’ll make me.” He considers what John’s told him about being afraid he’d hit one of his kids and looks down. “You and I have a lot in common, John. More than I realized. But I’ve always admired you, even when I was scared of you. I’m afraid of that too and we don’t even have kids yet. I don’t want to be my father, and that’s why I keep going to Singh and keep playing the harp. I’d lose everything if I lost my temper … I’d lose Fiona.” as morbid as she is, he knows she wouldn’t really kill him. He blinks hard and clears his throat. He’s noted the tears and emotions in John and they mirror his own. “I know how to hold onto it. The night I left, Gino called Fiona a bitch and I almost threw a pot of boiling water on him. I made myself remember that everything hinged on me not doing anything that would fuck up everything I had here and I didn’t. I just served him, and later drugged him so I could pack and get over to Mom’s place.” he pauses. “He never came looking for me. I guess he was just glad I was finally gone after damn near fifteen years.”
John wipes at his eyes and reaches over and pats Vincent on the arm "His loss Vincent. I'm glad you're on top of it. I wasn't for a long time. I guess with us not being cutoff I could go see Mary again sometime. Hope she didn't retire." He laughs and then takes a long sip of his beer. Then he gives Vincent a wry smile "If you really do want to be a Reinhardt, we have a little tradition among the men. You're underage so we might have to tack it onto the barbecue....."
Vincent shrugs. “It’s only been three years. Unless she was already old.” then he looks intrigued .. “Tradition?” he wonders.
John nodded "In her sixties at least. I'm bad with age though....maybe she's older." John looks apologetic "It's really my Uncle's fault....but there's a bit of a drinking tradition. It can get a little.....well there are really no words. You just have to live through it to understand. Bring a change of clothes maybe.....and a shower curtain laid down on the bed will protect your mattress later."
Vincent shrugs. “Hopefully she isn’t retired … or you could see someone else or …” he chuckles. “Me, you and Michael can get together and bitch about our fathers on a regular basis.” then he blinks at the tradition. “O …. K … I think I can do that. My price of admittance into the family. I’m in.” he considers. “This is one of those things Fiona will never let me live down, isn’t it?” he laughs, but thinks that is worth the price.
John snickers and leans back "Pretty much never. But she knows the drill. Thanks for coming to talk to me. Of course you both have my blessing...you don't have to ask. You're family already Vincent."
No comments:
Post a Comment