“I love you, too,” I said to an empty room, holding a blue guitar pick.
32
Angelo
Fate had a strange way of laughing in my face.
I had gotten everything I wanted when I no longer wanted it.
I was back in my workshop, back in San Francisco, back in my apartment, and even my neighbor had stopped me, looked at the emptiness of my ring finger, and said, “We missed seeing you,” leaving me to guess whowewere. I’d smiled, thanked her, and then gone on with my day.
But, most of all, it was the text I’d received that arrived when I didn’t want it anymore after hoping for it in the past.
“Been missing you, babe. I’m in the city. Back from another round in Vegas. Can I come over?”
I didn’t respond.
A day later, she texted again. “Still need a green card? I can make an honest man out of you.”
I didn’t respond to that, either.
The ache that entrenched itself in my chest, the signed agreement, and the wedding ring on my coffee table were daily reminders; not only of what and who was missing in my life, but of the fact that I wasn’t giving up on what I really wanted, take what it would take and as long as it would take to get her.
“When will we see your wife?” my brother asked over the phone.
“Give me the phone, Marco,” my mother took over the call. “When are you coming, Angelo? Your brother, Alessandro, is getting released soon. I told him you got married. We all want to meet her. Can you video call us?”
“I don’t know exactly when I can come, maybe for Christmas, but you’ll meet her, promise. She’s not here at the moment, and with the time difference, it’s hard to find a good hour for a video call,” I half-lied, half-wishful-thought.
Instead of forgetting or getting over June, I thought about her more, missed her more, loved her more. But I gave her what she said she wanted, even if it hurt like hell.
I worked, jam-sessioned with Davey, John, and Gil at the club, and lived the same life I’d had before June. But everything felt as gray as a government office wall. Even my coffee tasted like chicory without her.
“We’re ready for production! Great job, Angelo. I knew you’d be my star,” Jerry said when we met to discuss my progress and next steps. “We already have a waiting list. Didn’t want to stress you out, but I’ve already begun taking orders for the pedal emulator.”
This was something I still wanted. In fact, it was the only good thing in my life at the moment.
“You don’t seem happy, Angelo. You’re worried you won’t get the green card?”
“No, I think we passed the interview.”
“Studied hard at June’s, huh?” Jerry patted my back with a sly smile. “She’s not bad to look at, especially for her age. She keeps in good shape. Seems uptight, though.”
I gritted my teeth so I wouldn’t blurt the curse that teased my tongue. Jerry had his moments, for sure. He was sixty-two and his third wife was thirty-four.
“Did you rent her the shop knowing it would be up for sale?” I asked.
“Everything is up for sale, eventually. But no, I don’t play dirty tricks like that on small people. If she were a big corporation, then maybe; but just a person trying to make a living? Never.”
The straightforward answer and his unflinching gaze told me that he was telling the truth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A month after our interview, June’s name flashed on my screen.
My heart hammered like it wanted out of its cage.
“Angelo.” Hearing my name in her voice motherfucking hurt. “You got it! You’re approved. They sent it here. Along with the reminder to submit the I-751 form in two years to remove any conditions on your residence.”
